Ti Amo (Battaglia Mafia Series)

by Mynx, Sienna

  “Things are complicated. We have an ally. Tomorrow there is a meeting in Naples with Giovanni Battaglia. He will be dead before that meeting ends.”

  “Then do it fast! I want Mira and my baby here by Christmas day!” he slammed the phone down. Kei sat in the chair and rested his .45 in his lap. He dropped his head back and released a deep sigh.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Giovanni barely had time for his morning shot of espresso before walking out of the door. He left his soon to be wife in bed asleep. To wake her would only delay him. Every morning he managed to make love to her before they started the day. Now with Christmas near he felt even more nostalgic about their ritual.

  “Buon giorno,” Lorenzo said in a gruff voice as Giovanni slammed the door to the car and reclined the seat. Lorenzo drove around the parked cars in their drive and headed south. Two cars followed with four of his men in each. “Change of plans. I arranged for us to meet near the ruins of Trajan in Benevento. Tourism should be light, enough to keep the meeting civil.”

  “Why there?” Giovanni asked.

  “I can control the meeting when our enemies are unprepared.”

  “You think he’ll fumble because of the change in location?” Giovanni asked.

  “Don’t they always?” Lorenzo chuckled.

  “Perfetto.” Giovanni nodded.

  They travelled in silence along the narrow roads circling the cliffs out of Melanzana. Giovanni’s gaze remained fixed on the clear sky ahead. He couldn’t keep thoughts of Catalina from his mind. Every memory they’d shared as brother and sister surfaced. How could her life be reduced to this? Widowed, pregnant, in love with her stepbrother, the mere thought of it made him sick. Where did he fail her?

  “I hear your thoughts.”

  “Mind the road and not my thoughts.” Giovanni said bitterly.

  “She will be okay, Gio.”

  He closed his eyes. As hard as he struggled to believe what Lorenzo said, he could not. Catalina was sheltered, pampered. She never truly knew or understood the scorn they were subjected to being born Evelyn McHenry’s bastards. His leadership after his father’s death was constantly challenged. The Cammora afforded him the liberty to be his own man outside the traditions of the Mafioso. But he could feel that control fraying over the past two years. Now this family betrayal could ruin his credibility and weaken them all.

  “Listen to me cousin. She’s strong. We should have seen this coming. You and I both knew she had a crush on Domi. We just never admitted to what we saw.”

  He nodded. “True. If I think hard on the past years, I remember her crush, but I never believed he would encourage her.”

  “Have you looked at her lately?” Lorenzo asked.

  Giovanni frowned. He glanced to Lorenzo. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “She’s a woman, Gio, a beautiful, smart, strong-willed woman. I’ve seen the way men look at her. So have you.”

  “Shut up!”

  “It’s true. She’s not a little girl anymore. You have to accept it.”

  “I don’t have to do shit. She’s a married woman. Was! She was a married woman. Fuck! This conversation is over.”

  Lorenzo chuckled. He slouched in the driver seat and continued to speed along the coast. Giovanni again fixed his attention on the void of blue sky ahead of them.

  ****

  They’d started the search before dawn, and it was now close to noon. Dominic had to shower, and then he’d continue to lead the Minettis on a useless rescue mission. He walked out of the bathroom in his slacks, freshly shaven and prepared for the task. It wasn’t easy standing among the concerned brothers knowing how pathetically Franco begged for his life in the end. Maybe that’s why Giovanni stuck him with the task instead of being at his side during the meeting with Bonaduce. Cold bitter resentment swelled in his gut, and he grimaced.

  He felt a presence in the room. His gaze lifted from the floor and connected with Catalina’s. She sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him. She looked lost and broken. He had himself to thank for that. Giovanni was her world and his respect meant a lot to her. What they did forever changed things between them all.

  “Ciao, bella.”

  “Ciao.”

  Dominic tossed the towel he had roped around his neck during his shave. He approached the bed. “How are you feeling today?”

  Her inability to look him in the eye pained him deeply. She kept her head down and her long locks shielded most of her face from view. Dominic sat next to her. He scooped her hair back and placed her soft locks behind her shoulder. “You can’t be in here, Catalina. We agreed to honor Giovanni’s wishes and stay apart.”

  “We need to talk,” she said softly. Even now she had the sweetest, softest voice. One word from her and his convictions wavered. Her head lifted, and she looked at him with sincerity. He stared into her lovely eyes. He’d had many women, known quite a few, but Catalina was by far the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She’d blossomed before his eyes. At seventeen her flawless skin, luscious curves, and thick dark brown hair captured the attention of every man in her presence. Giovanni was blind to it. Dominic never was. He’d even beaten a man on the staff ruthlessly with the butt of his gun for staring at her too long. Now she was here, broken and lost. It was his fault.

  Catalina smiled. “Ti amo, Domi.” She touched his hand then drew hers away. “You shaved. The bruises aren’t as bad this morning. I’m so sorry Lorenzo hurt you.”

  “I’ll heal.”

  She nodded. “You know what I’ve always liked about your face. Your eyes.” She touched his brows. “Under these thick brows, they are so compelling. They have this lowered slant to them.” She brushed the tips of her fingers over his left eye. “And your dark lashes. You have dreamy eyes, Domi. That’s what you were for me since I was thirteen. Dreamy.”

  “Stop.” He removed her hand from his face. “Don’t do this.”

  She placed her hand in her lap. “It’s about the baby.”

  Dominic waited.

  “I lied.”

  “I had to consider that it was a lie. I’m not surprised. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.”

  “Forgive me.”

  “I do.” He kissed her brow, and she eased her arm around his waist to hold him as they sat. “Gio sent Carmine to the store. He brought me back three different pregnancy tests. Three of them. I’m to take all three and bring them to Gio.” She dropped her head and cried. “He wants proof Domi. What are we going to do?”

  “It’s okay.” He pulled her under his arm. Soon he’d be gone, and she’d mourn him. But he knew she’d get over it and possibly move on to someone more worthy of her. “I’ll handle Gio.”

  “No. We have to try. I can stall Gio. I can convince Mira to do it. Did you see how she handled him? She’s really good, and she’s our friend. She understands our love. I’m thinking that we need to start trying to get pregnant immediately. I know I will be able to. I might already be. We didn’t use protection the other night. You never know.”

  “It’s best we come clean with him and tell him the truth.”

  “No!” She snatched away and stood. “You can’t. Gio is not a forgiving man. He’ll punish us!”

  Dominic smiled. “He’ll do that either way. Right now all we have is Christmas.” Dominic brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Share it with me.”

  Catalina smiled sadly and sat on his lap. “And after? After we will be together?”

  He didn’t answer. He kissed her, and she drew him with her when she reclined on the bed. Her tongue swirling over his and her lush curves under him he took liberties he shouldn’t have. But he was a condemned man. There was nothing more to lose.

  ****

  The day was much warmer. Giovanni looked up to the weathered stone steps of the Arch of Trajan. Its arc stood magnificently regal during Roman times and was carved of limestone. The sculpting engraved in the enclave and along the arch depicted victories and sacrifices. All of
it drew tourism into southern Italy. The public setting should alleviate any stress Don Bonaduce had about entering southern Italy. If not, Giovanni didn’t give a shit. He was done with the old man’s interference. And since the last Calderone was now a charred corpse, he considered this meeting only a courtesy.

  Giovanni started up the cobblestone path. Bonaduce watched his approach. He wore a fedora like his father used to wear. His sons were on either side. Giovanni squinted at the men and then cast his gaze over to Lorenzo who also took note of their smug stance. Something felt awry.

  Cheung cursed under his breath. There was no plausible way he could get an accurate shot. The call came too late in the morning for him to properly scope out a good location. The arch was at least forty feet high. It had been preserved and set on display in a roped off park like area that was center to several traffic ways. Many of the hotels or businesses nearby were only three stories high and each would expose him considerably. Cheung finally decided his best option would be along via dei Rettori at hotel Villa Traiano. He scaled the side of the building from the third story window with his sniper rifle strapped to his back. On the flat roof he set up his arsenal keeping low to the ground. The tripod and rifle were in position but the sun shone directly on him, and it meant his lens could cast a reflection. He had to make it quick to avoid being spotted. Cheung peered into the scope. Giovanni Battaglia was a tall broad shouldered man; he should be an easy target. The red crosshairs tracked the Battaglia’s as they parked and exited their vehicles. Giovanni, due to his height, was easily seen among the giants shadowing him. He wore a dark suit. He approached Bonaduce. Cheung fingered the trigger. Bonaduce said he’d draw Giovanni away from his men to give Cheung a clear shot. The chaos would be enough cover for him to slip away. All Cheung had to do was be sure not to miss.

  “Giovanni, come va?” Bonaduce kissed Giovanni on the left then the right cheek.

  “Non mi lamento.” Giovanni greeted Bonaduce in the familiar way. They had gathered before the roped off monument. The early hour left little traffic along via dei Rettori. Still Lorenzo and the others positioned themselves in a semi-circle, scanning the cars and the faces of Bonaduce’s men.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk? Talk?” Bonaduce said.

  “I’m not in the mood for a stroll this morning.”

  Bonaduce touched his chest as if affected. “The bad blood for us has spilled. It’s time to start anew. Have I not shown this by travelling here to meet you? Here of all places.”

  “You understood what Angelo and the Calderone’s did to my family. You inserted yourself in our affairs. I’m not inclined to forget this easily.”

  A sharp flare of disapproval sparked in the old man’s eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched with anger. “How dare you speak to me this way? Your father…”

  “Is dead. I came here to make it clear to you that the only peace between our families is the one of tolerance. I’ve tolerated you for two years. It would be wise for you to do the same.”

  “Did you start the fire? Did you come into my backyard and kill Angelo Calderone?”

  Giovanni didn’t bother to answer. His gaze remained trained on the man and his focus singularly.

  “Careful son, you are crossing into territory the Cammora does not reach. The triangle isn’t yours yet.”

  “It’s mine.” Giovanni shrugged, and then smirked. “It became mine when Angelo met justice.”

  The sun shone brightly over the arch, and Lorenzo looked away from the glare. He checked his watch. Carlo and Renaldo could not fail. The fucker had to be at the Traiano. It was the only place to take a clear shot. His gaze swept the others. His men were at every corner of via dei Rettori, and a few had arrived early to post in the surrounding buildings. He and Giovanni had agreed on this plan. Still, he felt on edge having his cousin’s life in his hands. Would his cousin be as trusting if he knew what his actions had cost Papa Tomosino? He could not fail him or the family again. There would be no more family blood on his hands.

  Bonaduce’s men were oddly situated a distance apart. Two of Bonaduce’s top enforcers faced east, as if expecting something or someone. The narrow street facing Lorenzo and his cousin was sandwiched between buildings, one a hotel the other appeared to be an apartment home of some kind. In the distance was Traiano. He’d visited the hotel on occasion and was well acquainted with it. Had Carlo and Renaldo made it in time? A gleam sparkled from the roof and caught his eye. A reflective glare sparkled again with a slight turn of his head. The odd location of the flare made the hairs on the back of his nape stand on end. The roof was flat, nothing to it, so what could it be? Thanks to the distance he questioned his eyes and his suspicion. Lorenzo glanced back at Giovanni and then to the Traiano.

  Cheung nearly took the shot. The men stepped closer to the arch, and the movement could have caused a misfire. He steadied his aim again and relaxed. Bonaduce kept pacing away. Twice one of the Don’s sons stepped too close to his target, and the old Don was less than discreet in pulling his son away from Giovanni. Time was up. He had to take the shot. Killing a man this powerful and notorious would gain him much respect in the Triad. Giovanni Battaglia led the Cammora with an iron fist. It was time for someone to squash him with one. “Die motherfucker,” Cheung said, and a millisecond before he pulled the trigger, the tall man next to Giovanni shoved him hard in the back. Cheung fired. The bullet hit Bonaduce’s son. The young boy was blown several feet back taking the force dead center to his gut. Immediately everyone dove and Cheung recognized his mistake.

  “Fuck! Fuck!” He grabbed his rifle and ran for the side of the building. He’d have only minutes before all hell rained down upon him.

  “Are you okay?” Lorenzo asked.

  The shove sent him face first to the ground. Giovanni could taste the grit of dirt and blood on his lips. He spat in disgust. He struggled to rise, a bit winded. The noisy wails of Don Bonaduce who cradled his dying son in his arms rattled him. He glanced back and several of his men were engaged in open warfare with Bonaduce’s men.

  “Stay down, Gio! I’ll get you out of here.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Giovanni grunted and glanced at Bonaduce who continued to shout the young boy’s name. He did not seem in fear of another assassin’s bullet. The death shot was meant for Giovanni.

  “We have to go. The polizia are on us. Now, Gio! Now!”

  Without delay he got to his feet and ran for the car waiting for him. His men would deal with the fallout. He couldn’t be caught at the scene. “How close are we to catching the assassin?”

  “Close. He took the shot from Traiano. Carlo and Renaldo won’t fail us. I was right about the location.”

  Giovanni smirked. “Then it goes down just as we planned. Exactly as we planned Lorenzo.”

  “It was risky, Gio. Doing things this way. Fuck! You could have been killed.”

  He cut a glance to Lorenzo as his cousin looked over to him smiling. It felt like the old days when they didn’t care about risks. They just took them in stride. “I’m good as long as I got you by my side cousin.” Giovanni said.

  “Always. Always.”

  Cheung tossed the gun and his arsenal in the trash bin and then hurried to the car he’d parked discreetly on the side of the building. He swerved out into traffic and jumped his lane into oncoming traffic. A quick maneuver kept him from a head on collision with a car, and he swerved back in his lane flooring it hard. He kept a cool head. Cheung had been in tighter spots than this one. He’d get out of Italy under the cover of night and then rethink his plan. Bonaduce’s boy took the hit. How old was the kid? Seventeen, eighteen?

  As he drove off the local road to the main highway, he relaxed on the gas. Soon he was flowing with traffic and confident that the worst was behind him. That was until he heard sirens. His gaze flipped to the rearview mirror. Seven box shaped blue police cars were in pursuit. It couldn’t be. No fucking way they could have found him this quick. Maybe they were in pursuit of someone else? He’d been
too careful.

  When his gaze leveled on the road ahead, he had to brake fast. Cars were all coming to halt before a barricade set up by the Carabinieri.

  “What the fuck is this?” he shouted as the car came to a complete stop. The other traffic was veered away and men with Uzis swarmed his car. Cheung put his hands up. He was ordered out of the car. He eased out slowly. He had nothing on him. Nothing to incriminate him and he was certain he hadn’t been seen. This he could work out.

  Several armed men approached the back of his car instead of him. He watched as the trunk was lifted. The men recoiled gagging, and the one with the gun pointed sharp to his side barked an order at him in Italian.

  “What the fuck is going on? What is it?” Cheung asked in Italian.

  He was marched to the back of the car. The stench greeted him first. Then his vision connected with the ghastly sight of a murdered man, pale white, with dead cloudy grey eyes, fixed on nothing. A corpse? Who the fuck put a corpse in his car?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two days before Christmas the Battaglia home reflected the spirit of the season. Red and green ribbons were decorative accessories along the stairwell. A festive mistletoe hung above each door on the lower levels. And lights were strung up along the halls and every archway. That was her American touch to the holiday. In Italy the season was also celebrated; however, Catalina told Mira she and Giovanni normally waited until Epiphany, which was January 6th, to exchange gifts. It was Eve’s first Christmas with her father, and Mira refused to wait that long.

  And there was another reason why. Franco’s body was found. The killer turned out to be the Asian man she encountered between the Christmas trees holding her daughter. The arrest unfolded on the news. He was handcuffed and led away from a traffic stop. The reporter said Franco Minetti, a Sicilian businessman was found stuffed in the man’s trunk. She and Catalina watched from the second level windows as cars of the Italian police drove in through the Battaglia gates. Men in blue uniforms with berets and weapons strapped to them marched through their home. Summoned below, Catalina gave an Oscar worthy performance and collapsed at hearing the news. Mira made sure to stay upstairs during the visit. She didn’t want to know the details or bear witness to the lies. Catalina was confined to her room afterwards, and Mira stood by Zia’s side as she informed the Minettis that Catalina was too sick with grief to attend Franco’s funeral. Mira found it disgraceful that Catalina refused to give Franco the respect of attending his services. However, she understood. A lie was best believed if only told once.