by Sunniva Dee
Isaias stops my hand calmly. He doesn’t need to say anything. There’s pain in my brother’s stare. Fear for those he loves. We’re in this together, he and I, and neither of us wants what our father pushes, the longevity of an organization that thrives off the misfortunes of others.
I let my hands fall. “What’s next? Randolfo will fucking annihilate. We’ll get him back. It’ll be a blood bath, and for what? If we win, Il Lince will keep it up, adding more ‘lucrative’ opportunities to his repertoire. Before we know it, the Nascimbeni will be to blame for all kinds of crap, down to the goddamn heroin flooding people’s veins in this city. I can’t stand this.”
“Gioele, he’s getting older. Soon, he’ll have to select an heir who can take the organization in a better direction.”
“That heir will not be you, and in case you forgot: it sure as hell won’t be me.”
“I’m aware.” His hand is on my shoulder again, easing my anguish. How is he so calm? Dude’s been my hero since I was little. He always has everything under control.
“There’s so much wrong with our family,” I say.
“There is, but we need to focus. This is when we step up, when we do our best, okay? You’ll do it for Ma, for Gabriela, the twins, and for Silvina.” He sends me a look I meet steadily. I’ve got nothing to hide from him anymore.
“I’ll do it for all of you,” he continues, “for Tatiana, and more than anything, I’ll do it for Ariadna. Not a single person of the Nascimbeni loyals has as much to lose as we do, and no one will be as exposed to Randolfo’s cruelty the way we will. You good with that?”
“No, I’m not good with that. We don’t have a choice, though.”
“Right. Go grab the girls while I get some fire power into your car. I don’t want Ariadna to see.”
“D’accordo, fratello.”
The Nascimbeni family home, a five-acre horse ranch at the back of Hidden Hills, looks as peaceful as always when we roll up its long pepper-tree alley. On the sides, simple white fencing keeps our horses in.
Our seven-thousand square foot house holds ten bedrooms, two of which Ma still keeps at the ready for me. Our backyard has a large, kidney-shaped pool surrounded by a waterfall, palm trees, and authentic-looking AstroTurf. If it weren’t for the dry Southern California air, it’d pull off the illusion of a tropical island.
Silvina and I get out of the car and step into my mother’s arms on the porch. Choking on her fear for us, she pulls my forehead down to kiss me over and over. “Goodness, baby boy! You have to be careful.”
“I know, Ma.”
She drops me to drizzle kisses over Silvina’s face too. “And you, baby girl! What were you thinking?” The question is rhetorical.
“I’m sorry, Zia Carola.” Silvina blinks through Ma’s love barrage, which is accentuated by mms and little puffs of I-can’t-believe-this.
Isaias’ car doors slam shut in the driveway, and Ma’s small frame lets go of Silvina to bustle down the porch steps with her arms open.
“Ariadna, mio cuore. How long it has been! Your daddy is a bad, bad man to keep you away from your nonna,” she complains. Ariadna giggles and entwines herself with Ma in an embrace that’s become utterly familiar over the years.
Behind them, Isaias waggles his brows. “Ma. We were here on Tuesday. That’s only three days ago.”
“But you didn’t even get to sleep over, did you?”
“I had school, Nonna.” Ariadna grins. “I’m off now, though. Daddy says I can stay for a while.”
“Oh, yes, yes. You’re staying for a while, now. I’ve made ricotta cookies, Biscotti Regina, and Pignoli already. We’re bringing them to the bunker.”
Ariadna makes a show of licking her lips thoroughly. “What about the Pesche?”
“Oh, yes.” Ma winks. “How could I forget the peach cookies for my tesoro? Such a sweet-tooth you are. We’ll make them together in the bunker.”
“Yay! They’re Zia Silvina’s favorite too.” Ariadna finds Silvina’s hand and holds it up for her grandmother to see. “Looky, we painted our nails. Same color, see?”
“Che belle!”
“You are beautiful,” I murmur, my gaze sliding from Ariadna to Silvina and staying there.
The entrance to the bunker is behind the waterfall. Hidden under tree roots and Astro-Turf, the lock yields to the fingerprints of only a handful of Nascimbeni family.
Ma walks ahead of us, chattering brightly with her grandchild like this isn’t life or death. I admire her strength; I doubt I could have removed the stress of the situation for Ariadna the way she does now.
It never ceases to amaze me how thorough my father was with this bunker. He started construction on it when Ma was pregnant with Isaias, and it was finished by his first birthday. The steel steps taking us into the bowels of the desert dirt are narrow. Spiraling downward, we hit the ground fifty feet below the pool. Here, a mudroom leads to double metal doors and reinforced walls. They keep us outside until Isaias lends his eye to the iris scanner and the doors glide open.
“How old do I have to be to do that, Nonna?” Ariadna pleads.
“Oh, I’ll talk to il nonno for you. If my tesoro wants to scan her way in, my tesoro gets to scan her way in.”
“Ma.” Isaias sends her a look.
“What? He can give her access. It doesn’t mean she can exit on her own.”
The first room is a hallway with clothes hangers and shoe racks on both sides. The bunker is flooded by daylight lamps and has more bedrooms than the main house, made to accommodate all famiglia wives and children.
At the moment, the living rooms, the bar, and the kitchen teem with loyals, all of which came here blindfolded. They’re roaming about, inside gates only Nascimbeni famiglia can open. A small boy runs over to Ariadna, chattering in Italian. She nods and goes with him to whatever it is he wants to show her.
There are so many memories down here. I’ve physically fought Il Lince, calling him names, causing him disgrace in front of his associates. I’ve been thrown into my bedroom, having the door locked from the outside until he left and Ma was in charge. My worst time was as a thirteen-year-old, with Isaias here and Il Lince too. In Ma’s words, “You were driving me crazy! The three of you took up so much space with your egos and all that testosterone, the rest of us had trouble breathing.”
Well, that’s never happening again. I’d rather die on the outside than get locked up in here again.
“Ready?” Isaias asks under his breath.
I nod, my stare straying to Silvina. She’s helping Ma pack away shit in the kitchen.
“Go say goodbye to her.”
“Do me a favor?” I ask, and my brother lifts an eyebrow in question. “Tell her to find me in the dog park.”
For a second, he stares at me, and I know what he’s thinking: Risky. What if they see you? I give him a shrug, because I’m beyond that. We’re going out there against the Santa Colombini, and it could be the last time I see her. I don’t want her to remember me as the love who didn’t say goodbye.
I stalk to the dog park, an area at the far end of the bunker. In contrast to the rest of this shelter, it’s small, low-ceilinged, and crudely excavated. It smells of earth, sometimes animal excrements, if the owners haven’t been good at cleaning up. Today, the dirt walls exude the faint hint of iron and sulfur that to some extent infuses the whole bunker.
This dungeon-like room is scarcely furnished with two benches for the pet owners, and a fire hydrant, which Gabriela jokingly brought down here a few years ago. Then, there’s a miniature bath tub for the dogs to play in.
I’m lucky; no one’s here yet. I take a seat on one of the benches and don’t look up until my love hesitantly steps inside a few minutes later.
I rake my eyes over Silvina. Shake my head. My feelings for her never change, but for her, it only takes minutes with the fam
ily for her to withdraw from me.
Here she is, long, dark-dark hair shiny over a shoulder and eyes like wells. She’s afraid I’ll make her cry. She’s afraid I’ll make her happy.
“I just wanted a hug from you before I leave.” My voice breaks a little, and I don’t know why this upsets me. “We had a good time coming here.”
Silvina lowers Hyacinth, Ma’s little Chihuahua, to the ground, and cautiously, she takes another step into the room. She keeps her eyes on the dog, who’s sniffing the fire hydrant. I want her to keep moving toward me. I can’t always be the aggressive one. Not when I don’t know what’ll meet me out there.
“It was a one-off. I was scared I’d lose you.”
“And now you’re not?” I’m curious. Maybe it feels unreal for her to be in the bunker when I’m not.
She tightens her arms over her chest like she’s cold. “Should I be?”
“I don’t know, Silvina.” I laugh softly. “Isaias and I are meeting up with Dad and Zio Cosimo at the Malibu pad. I honestly have no idea where we’re going from there. Guess he wants to be on the offense.”
Her stare could kill, and it makes my heart feel bigger.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” I say.
“Yeah, you do! You could stay here with us.”
“Right, a grown man hiding behind his mamma’s skirts.”
She storms toward me. I catch her as she stumbles, as her breath hiccoughs like it snagged on the uneven ground too. Then, she’s in my arms, tight, close, right where she belongs with her nose nestled under my ear. She’s sobbing, already having lost me, and I press my love against me, assuring her that she hasn’t.
“It’s just another raid. We’ll be out of there in record time.”
“But it’s the Santa Colombini! That’s not how it works.”
I push a lock of hair away from her face, nuzzle soft skin with my lips until I find her ear. Then, I cover it with my mouth and breathe warmth against it. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind, Ina mia. I’ll be back.”
“You can’t decide that. You’re not God. All we can do is wish and pray.”
“If you love me, I’ll make sure to be the one opening the door for you once all of this is over.” I smile; it’s such a pretty thought.
“Don’t be silly.”
“About what? Opening the door for you?” I joke.
The huff she emits is staccato and sounds like an involuntary snicker. “Do you know how strange you are, Gioele di Nascimbeni?”
“Humor me. What am I silly about?”
“About the love. I love you, always.”
“Like the earth and the sky, or like famiglia?”
“Like so much more than famiglia.”
I can leave in peace now. With Silvina’s love fresh on my ear, I can go to war for a cause I don’t believe in.
13. COSIMO
GIOELE
I roll my motorcycle out of the garage while Isaias grabs one of my father’s cars. His own ride, an orange Bentley Flying Spur, isn’t as easy to camouflage as a gunpowder grey Audi A5.
Isaias is already on the phone with his hired guns when he hops into the car. My brother is tight with the biggest provider of bodyguards to politicians in the States.
I let him lead us out of Hidden Hills and down narrow canyon roads toward Malibu. We arrive at one of my father’s safe houses without incident. Once there, we find the parking lot behind the unassuming row house full of bikes, vans, and sedans. I hop off my Harley, hang my helmet on a handle bar, and trot inside.
“Fuck me if it isn’t the Nascimbeni crown prince himself,” one of the old-timers bellows. He lifts a bottle of IPA, toasting me. “You left your fancy university for us?”
“You not dead yet, Moroder?” I shout back, making him snicker.
“We’ll see after this, boy. We’ll see!”
“Guys. Listen up,” my father mutters. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. A head shorter than my brother and me, he still exudes authority, and the dozen and a half men in the room instantly quiet, stares flicking to him.
“Cosimo is gone,” he gruffs out with no lead-up.
“Cosimo? No way,” someone says. “I saw him yesterday morning. Wasn’t he dropping off the twins at the bunker?”
“He was. Since then, I’ve had two messages delivered from the Santa Colombini. The last one contained this.” With a stone-face that in no way reveals the love he feels for his brother, he unwraps a handkerchief. It holds my uncle’s ring finger, complete with his wedding band.
“What the hell? Why?” Fuck, Silvina can’t learn about this. We need to find him, asap. For Silvina, for Zia Paula, for Gabriela, for the thirteen-year-old twins.
“He wants your cousin.” There’s a flash in my father’s eyes as he says it. It’s dark, promising revenge. He’s leaving me momentarily speechless.
“Which cousin?” Isaias’ voice is gravelly.
“Silvina. No word as to what they want with her.”
“What the fuck!” I roar.
Isaias clamps a hand over my shoulder, warning me with a hard stare. I give a small nod, and he lets me go. The Nascimbeni clan is used to vehemence running high, so only Il Lince takes notice of my reaction.
“Jesus Christ. You’re not using her as bait, are you?” Moroder asks.
It’s a bad sign that Il Lince isn’t offended by the question.
“I’m not. That’s why we’re all here. I’m sending you off to find Cosimo. This was the last straw. These cretins are done. They need to be extinguished like the vermin they are, and this time, once and for all.”
I hate the situation I’m in right now. I’m with two of Isaias’ men, a taciturn German, Fritz, and Bully, a more talkative dude with the same burly build as Fritz. Bully snaps peanut shells nonstop, scattering them inside the van we’re in. Not that I care about the mess he’s making. It’s the constant chomping that drives me crazy.
“How long ’til they’re here?” he asks for the fifth time.
“I don’t know. They’re Colombinis, so it’s not like we can time them. Our intel could even be wrong,” I say.
“And what’s our job here? Are we jumping their van?”
“No, we’re following them,” Fritz breaks his silence to remind Bully.
“Right, so no fire, then?”
“Correct. We’re not opening fire, because then we can’t follow them anymore.”
I exchange a glance with Fritz. Mine says, can you believe this guy? while Fritz holds the blankness of a Secret Service agent. I want to slam my forehead against the dashboard.
“There. White van!” Bully’s bag of peanuts drops to the floor as he points.
“Yep, that’s it. Go.” I snap my fingers to Fritz, who picks up speed, taking the canyon curves at a safe distance. We let a Toyota in between us, keeping a close eye on the Colombini van. They take off through the Magual mountain pass, in the direction of the reservoir.
“Isaias,” I say into the phone. “We’ve got them.”
“Cool. Send me directions, and we’ll back you up.”
It’s already dark. The asphalt disappears in favor of what looks like a one-way dirt road. The van in front of us lugs forward, and with no other vehicles on this road, we need to stay behind.
We turn off our headlights, which makes Fritz cuss under his breath in German. Between his teeth, he mixes in some English too, letting us know in no uncertain terms that it’s fucking ridiculous to drive when “everything is schwartz.”
“At least, the road doesn’t fork, so it’s impossible to lose them,” I say.
“Nu-huh, look,” Bully replies, “It’s forking up there.”
“Fuck. Which way did they go?”
“I have no idea.”
I’m about to text Isaias that we’re taking the left road, th
at he’ll have to take the right one to cover our bases, when Colombini lights interrupt the darkness between the trees. For the first time, my team and I share a grin.
The right road takes us up to a small water reservoir. A bridge crosses it, and on the other side, there’s a shack-like building where the Colombini van stops.
Got them. Sending you a GPS pin, I type to Isaias.
On our way. Lie low until we arrive.
I gesture for Fritz to pull off the road. Once we’re far enough into the ditch to be hidden by trees, I call Silvina.
She doesn’t pick up. Right. There’s no reception in the bunker anymore. A few years back, Il Lince had some mishaps with people escaping through an emergency exit. It’s now completely infallible. Crazy to think that I should feel safe because I can’t get a hold of her. Even crazier that I don’t. I mean, come on. There’s simply no way for an intruder to get into the bunker.
Why Silvina? Why do they want her? How do they even know who she is? I don’t understand. I don’t. I just don’t. Fuck!
“I see movement down the road,” Bully says, tossing an empty bag of peanuts to the floor. “Is it an animal or your brother?”
I groan, subduing my impatience while I call Isaias. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, we’re a hundred yards from your pin.”
“Phew,” Bully mutters, opening another damn bag of unshelled peanuts.
“Can you just—! Ahh, never mind,” I say.
Three minutes later, we’re finally moving again. We’re not taking any chances, bulletproof vests under our shirts and armed to the teeth with Glocks, AK-47s, and heaps of ammunition. We’re seven men, with me being the youngest. I’m as seasoned as most, though, having started in my father’s game too early.
Isaias sends a go-report to Il Lince. When we leave our vehicles and sneak up to the building, I remind myself how I’m doing this for Silvina. On the backside, I make out a closed door; light sieves out around its edges, forming a rectangle against the dark wall. Shadows move behind boxes stacked in front of a small window to its right.
