by Mynx, Sienna
Dammit. In all her anger she hadn’t truly digested what her friend told her. “Fabiana!” she said about to approach the car. Loud shots erupted behind her. Confused, Mira’s head turned to see Giovanni and Lorenzo running full speed out of the villa toward her. Mira froze, not sure of why they were coming after her, she panicked. Was it because she knew about what Lorenzo had done?
She turned and started to run toward the car away from the men in pursuit of her when a bright flash exploded in front of her face, a hot white light that blinded and rendered her deaf by its force. Her body felt as if it were on fire. In a wave of heat she was airborne for what felt like an eternity. She sailed backward then crashed hard. Darkness.
They didn’t have to speak a word to each other. They knew. They knew! Giovanni and Lorenzo ran through the house shoving family members and staff out of the way. The men were behind them, still they couldn’t run faster, and they both tried. They nearly crashed through the door together. Outside in the sunlight the cars were parked in an intricate arrangement making his head spin. Precious moments ticked by before his sweeping gaze located her. Mira was walking toward Lorenzo’s car. He yelled her name. He shouted for her to get away from the car, but didn’t realize he did so in Italian. Her head turned. In that brief moment of recognition, he thought he saw fear in her pretty eyes. He yelled again, with Lorenzo yelling for Fabiana. His Bella shocked him by running away from him. He chased after her but it was too late. The car exploded. She was thrown across the lot and landed hard on her back. The explosion knocked them all on their asses. The roof and hood of the car shot through the air, caught in a bright orange and reddish yellow fireball. Every window of every car in his drive was blown out and shards of glass rained on them. Giovanni, stunned, struggled to rise on his hands and knees. He could hear Lorenzo’s groaning at his side. His head lifted, and he noticed Mira lying still on her back, just four feet in front of him.
He literally crawled to her as Lorenzo called out for Fabiana over and over. Men running with extinguishers rushed the car. Something was wrong with his hearing. It made all sounds a bit muffled at first, and then the noise level skyrocketed sending a piercing pain through his skull. One of his men shouted that the other woman was in the car. His cousin ran for the fire, and they had to tackle him to the ground. He yelled Fabiana’s name over and over.
Giovanni reached Mira. Her eyes were closed, her face red and swollen, her lip bleeding and blood spilled from one of her nostrils. The sight of her sent a shock wave of guilt and grief through him. “Bambina, Mirabella, wake… wake…” Giovanni shook her hard. She didn’t budge. He gathered her in his arms and pressed her face to his chest shouting for help.
“Now, Gio! Take her in now!” Flavio yelled at him. He hadn’t realized that Flavio had spoken to him. Apparently several were trying to take her from his arms and carry her inside. He clung to her desperately, confused. “Listen to me. There may be more bombs, get her inside! Now!”
With the help of another, he managed to rise, and then hold her steady in his arms. He carried her inside past family and others. The women inside of his home were wailing and hugging each other. Several ran over, wanting to take her from him.
“Stay the fuck back!” he yelled at them all, staggering toward the stairs. Eventually a few others swarmed him, and they helped him carry her up and into his room. He had taken a nasty fall as well. The back of his head pounded. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Her stillness was his madness. He pressed his ear to her chest and listened for her heart. He heard the faint beating and nearly wept in relief.
“The dottore is on his way,” Flavio said.
“Fabiana? She dead?” Giovanni asked.
“Yes. Lorenzo drew his weapon outside. He nearly shot one of the boys. They have him restrained in Villa Rosso. The carabineri and polizia di stato will all be here soon. We have minutes.”
Giovanni swayed and one of his uncles steadied him. “Who? Angelo? The Nigerians? Who?”
“Dominic’s on it. Not sure.”
He looked back at Mira. “She alive? Is she alive?” he shouted at his aunt who was checking her. Her heartbeat was so faint he feared it had stopped altogether with how still she remained. The old woman stepped back from the bed saying a prayer. He returned to Mira’s side. He kissed her brow, her lips, but still she didn’t respond. He put his head to her chest and checked for life again. She was strong, very strong. “She’s going to be fine,” he said to himself. “I heard her heartbeat. She’s going to recover.” Giovanni said in a shaky voice.
“Gio?”
“She hit her head, that’s all. She’s going to be fine.”
“We need to talk.” Flavio said sternly. “You need to be out of the villa. Now.”
“Maybe I should get ice for her head…what do you think Flavio? Ice to stop the swelling? Her face isn’t burned, it’s just… the blast just hit her hard. Where is the blood from? Is it a head injury? Does that make you bleed from the nose? I don’t see any cuts…”
He grabbed Giovanni by the shoulders. “We took a hit. Here. In Melanzana. You need to get to Villa Rosso with the men and let me handle things. Now. Before the place is filled with the polizia and we are unable to act. Go.”
“I’m not leaving her!” he roared back, tears glistening in his eyes. “I won’t!”
“I’ll stay.”
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
“Go, Gio. Take care of the family, and I’ll stay with her until the dottore comes. We’ll send for you.”
“That fat fucker Don Calderone is to be brought to me on his knees! Oh there will be war, a war like they’ve never seen, and every man or woman that bears the name Calderone will spill blood over what happened here today.” Giovanni stood. He shook off his shock and focused.
Flavio nodded in agreement.
“I can’t leave her. She needs to see me first when she opens her eyes. I have to tell her that her friend… shit, shit, I can’t leave her yet. What the fuck am I going to tell her about her friend?”
“She doesn’t belong here, Gio, surely you can see that.”
Giovanni looked at him. “What are you saying?”
“When she’s well, she needs to return to America.”
“No. They know who she is. She’s safest with me.”
Flavio sighed. “Giovanni she’s an American. Her friend is a well-known American. Soon the press will get a hold of this. We don’t have long before the world is at our door. She has to go. She doesn’t understand our ways. And even greater still, you can’t do the things necessary if you are consumed with holding on to her.”
Giovanni looked back toward Mira. “I will protect her. She needs me now. We will get through this together.”
“I’ve seen this before, Gio. Your father. Don’t you recall the stories of his obsession with your mother, the war in the families when Evelyn’s father went to Don Chicoli for revenge? How many men, men in your family, our family have lost their lives because of Tomosino’s obsession? You can’t make the mistake he did. She doesn’t belong here.”
He had to consider Flavio’s warning. Things would become far worse, and life with him now would risk her own. Still he couldn’t part with her. Not when her world was ripped apart. She needed him and he needed her.
Mira gasped, her chest heaving, lungs expanding as she took in a deep breath. She exhaled, coughed and sucked down air. Her head hurt so bad tears slipped from her eyes. Someone was at her side. He spoke to her but his voice was muffled, distant. He touched her, and it burned. What had happened? What the hell happened?
“Mira, bambina, Mirabella!”
She couldn’t think, nothing surfaced but the pain in her head, shoulders, back and the hot feel of her skin.
“She’s not responding. Where the hell is the dottore?” the muffled voice bellowed. It was a man’s voice. She blinked and her vision remained a haze of light and shadows. Sweet merciful God was she dead, dying? The person touched her face and she winced. It
felt as if a layer of her skin had been peeled away.
“Bella… please, look at me.”
The kind blue-violet eyes of Giovanni loomed, and suddenly she felt such unbelievable relief. It was a dream! Just a stupid dream. He became clearer and horror settled in. His disheveled appearance jarred her. Black soot was smeared on his face, and his tuxedo shirt was marred with dirt that looked be mixed with blood. Dread engulfed her, and her cloudy memory cleared to remind her of the bitter truth. Fabiana and she argued. Her friend was in trouble. She cried. She needed her and she left her. Then…
“Fabiana!” Mira screamed. “Fabiana!”
He drew her into his arms, and her face was buried into his chest. She clung to him certain that her fear was unfounded. Fabiana had gotten out of the car and was okay. Did she see her get out of the car? Yes! Yes! She was sure she saw her. Didn’t she?
“Fabiana. Fabiana. Fabiana. Fabiana.” She choked out in her sobs. “No!” she hit at him trying to break free. “No!” she struggled and bucked on the sheets until he pinned her down. Another person was at the bed. He spoke fast and hurriedly in Italian. People were all around her. She looked at Giovanni horrified. “Get away from me! You’re trying to kill me! Don’t let him kill me. Please! Please! Get away!”
The other man removed a needle. Giovanni shouted at him in Italian. They were going to kill her. Just as they killed Fabiana. They wanted her dead. “Let me go! Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!”
Pinned to the bed she screamed until she was breathless. Tears flowed and the sting of a needle inserted into her arm released a hot serum in her veins. Immediately the numbing daze she found herself in when she woke returned. Everything faded including the voices until there was darkness.
Giovanni looked down at her in disbelief. She was afraid of him? She called him a murderer?
“She’s in shock. I need you to leave while I examine her.” The doctor said.
“Take her to the ospedale, Gio.” Zia said, at his side. “Take her now. She isn’t well.”
“No. I won’t. It’s not safe.” Giovanni paced, combing his hand back through his hair constantly. “Not until I know for sure what… what happened here, and by who.”
“Let me examine her. We can determine how bad it is. I gave her something to calm her. She’ll rest.”
Before the drug claimed her, her eyes lifted under heavy lids and she looked into his. For a moment there was clarity. It was soon replaced by sadness, regret, and fear. He was right. She was afraid of him. He saw it when she ran for the car, and he heard it in her voice as she shouted he was a murderer. Her long lashes fluttered under her sinking lids and shut. Giovanni leaned in and kissed her bruised, chapped lips. His tears mixed with those now glistening on her puffy red cheeks. He exhaled the deepest sigh of sadness and said a silent prayer that she found a sliver of peace in the tranquilized sleep. It took an inner strength he could barely claim to draw away from her bed. Flavio followed him out.
Lorenzo slumped forward in the chair with his head bowed. Funny, how hysteria could shift from the darkest depths of grief to full on rage. His gaze lifted, but his head didn’t. He tracked Carlo with a steely glare. The boys had relieved him of his gun and knife, but if a man got close enough, any man, he’d snap the motherfucker’s neck. Only Carlo dared be alone with him when he was in this state. Carlo kept pacing in front of him, ready, in case he charged him again. They fought in the room until both of them had bloody noses and knuckles. Lorenzo spat blood on the floor and mumbled curses. He wanted to fight again. Nico and Renaldo waited outside of the door ready to charge in if things between he and his best friend got worse. And they would. He’d make them all pay for caging him like some wild bull. He deserved justice. He deserved… shit! His head dropped lower, and he wept. Fabiana was dead. His beautiful girl, gone, and he’d only had her for such a short time.
I killed her. I did it. My Fabiana is gone.
The doors opened with Giovanni and Flavio stepping through. Lorenzo sat up from his lean and blinked away tears. He smeared the blood and snot from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand across his face and fixed his gaze on his cousin. Giovanni’s tuxedo shirt was covered in sweat, soot, and traces of blood. Blood. He fixated on the blood, then looked down to the back of his hand and stared at the red blood. Red like Fabiana’s hair. Did his woman’s body disintegrate in the explosion? Had she suffered? Were pieces of her blown apart before she knew what happened?
Dominic arrived. His voice broke the tense silence that had fallen over the men. It drew Lorenzo from the trance he’d fallen into. “Flavio, the carabineri want to meet. I told them Giovanni required medical attention from the dottore and could not be interviewed. They are currently interviewing our men and the few family members I selected. Rocco is among them, and Uncle Vito.”
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t join us.” Flavio ordered.
Giovanni went to the shelves of wine bottles in the room. He grabbed one and removed the cork with his teeth. He then paced with the bottle in his hand, never taking a sip. Flavio nodded to Dominic who watched him go and closed the door behind him. Lorenzo closed his eyes and tried to see Fabiana, remember her. She was so vivid in his mind he half expected her to walk into the room. He felt dead inside.
“Porca puttana! A bomb? They planted a bomb in my fucking home!” Giovanni grimaced.
“I spoke to Carmine. The delivery of the car was by one of Marcello’s men, they’ve been known to do work for Gino at times. It was a hit within the Cammora, the Marcello’s are on the side of Angelo Calderone. The Nigerians couldn’t gain this kind of alliance so soon. It has to be Angelo, and from the looks of it he planned the bombing to happen after his visit today.”
Lorenzo wiped his hand down his face and accepted the news he already believed. “How did she die?” his voice croaked.
“The bomb was for you.” Dominic continued. “The women were outside arguing. No one is sure why but Fabiana approached Carmine for the keys and insisted he give her access to your car. She said you okayed it.”
Lorenzo shook his head that he hadn’t.
Dominic nodded. “The argument continued in the car. At some point Mira left the car, but Fabiana remained. One of the boys says he heard the engine turn over right before the explosion. She had to have ignited the bomb when she started the car.”
A thunderous crash exploded in the room. Lorenzo glanced over to see the bottle Giovanni had carried was now smashed to smithereens after colliding with the crimson stained wall. His cousin was on edge too. But no one knew the depths of his pain. His Fabiana was dead and it was as if he’d set a match to her himself. Giovanni ran his hand through his hair that now hung over his brow into his face. He then looked at his cousin and processed the shared hell they found themselves trapped in.
Lorenzo rose slowly.
Giovanni’s vision narrowed and only Lorenzo remained in his sight. “This is the price you pay for betraying our brotherhood, for allowing snakes into our garden.”
“I accept it. I only ask that you grant me one thing. Revenge. I want to do Angelo Calderone myself.”
Dominic threw up his hands and stepped between them. “Wait. We have to first meet with the families. We still have friends in the Cammora.”
“No! No fucking meetings! Did you not see what happened to her?” Lorenzo shouted at Dominic. He returned his gaze to Giovanni. “There isn’t enough of her left to bury. I would gladly die for what has been done to her, but I want justice, revenge!” he choked out.
Giovanni nodded. “Go! Dig up Giuseppe’s stinking corpse and deliver the rot to his mother’s doorstep. Get that bitch Fish is fond of and send him a message as well.”
“There is time to fix this, Gio, to find a way to resolve it peacefully.” Dominic said. “Hear Flavio’s plan first. A meeting with the families for justice. Let the collective decide, and we will know who our allies are.”
“Do as I said. I will make calls to our friends to get you all the manpower you ne
ed. I don’t need a fucking meeting to know who our friends are. We’ll have war, but not the one Angelo thinks. And we’ll deal with the Nigerians too.”
Nico and Carlo grunted their agreement. They walked out with Lorenzo.
“Lorenzo is wrong. We don’t need vengeance when we’re so close to legitimizing this family. I know I speak out of turn and Flavio is your consigliere but I think…”
“However I run this fucking family I decide who lives or dies! Not the fucking Calderone’s! I decide what is just and unjust! Not you or Flavio! None of you are to question me! Lorenzo has paid a price for his sins; he lost his woman today. My Bella lost her best friend. They will have vengeance. Angelo is going to die slow for daring to come into my fucking home and challenge me!” Giovanni grabbed a chair and threw it at the wall. “I want them dead. I want everything breathing with the name Calderone dead!”
Dominic turned and walked out.
Giovanni struggled to capture a breath. He staggered over to his desk and sat down on it so consumed with rage his chest felt like a pretzel knot. After a knock on the door, he collected his composure and Dominic escorted the doctor in.
“How is she?”
“Resting?”
“How is she?”
“Nothing internal. She has some bruising from the explosion. Her skin will be raw, but she’ll heal. I’m leaving this.” The doctor passed over some pills. “She is to take one every eight hours, and no more than three a day. They can be addictive. She’s in shock.”
