Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  Ricardo straightened to his full height, knowing he had a battle on his hands. “Buona sera, Mamma,” he said, keeping his tone polite. Regardless of whether she was going to cause trouble, she was still his mother, someone who deserved his respect.

  “It was a good evening until I heard what you’ve been up to,” she said, her voice strong. Even though the men in the family towered over her, she knew how to cut each one of them down to size—with the exception of him. The day she’d ordered the hit on Valentino’s mother had shattered her control over him.

  “I’ve been up to nothing, other than taking what’s rightfully mine,” he replied, referring to his new status.

  Her eyes flashed, his mother the one he’d inherited his temper from. “The title of Don does not belong to you; it belongs to your father.”

  “Who is no longer capable of leading, especially in a time of war, and we shouldn’t be speaking of such things in front of my nieces.” He indicated to the girls. “So, please allow me to settle them into their new room.”

  Her eyes fell on Valentino’s daughters, realization now dawning on her face. Anger bubbled to the surface, twisting her features. The two girls took a step back, obviously scared of her, which they should be, because his mother wouldn’t think twice about throwing them to the Landi.

  “How dare you bring that bastardo’s children into my home!” she yelled.

  “Do not speak of him in that manner,” Ricardo ground out, furious with her for doing so in front of the girls. “Have some respect—”

  “Respect is earned.”

  “Which Valentino has earned tenfold. So, stop dirtying his name for the wrongs of your wayward husband.”

  “Don’t speak of your father like that!”

  “It’s the truth. And no matter what you say, my nieces will be staying, and if you upset them, Mamma, I’ll see that everyone in this household knows who ordered a certain hit.” His mother had wanted to keep the hit on Valentino’s mother a secret, especially from their father, who still mourned the woman’s death.

  Her jaw clenched. “This matter is far from over.” She spun around and stormed off, the sound of her heels resounding throughout the house.

  Relieved she was gone; he looked down at the girls. “Whatever you do, stay out of her way.”

  They both nodded, looking like they didn’t want to go anywhere near his mother. He didn’t either right now, although once he settled them into their new room, he knew he would have to face her again. He didn’t enjoy telling his mother to back down. Even the hardest man would find the task difficult, because you were meant to give mothers the world, not to take it from them. Regardless, he would do it, no matter how much it left a bad taste in his mouth.

  He ushered the girls to their room, knowing they needed plenty of rest to face the next day. Once they were tucked into bed, he headed for his mother’s office, something that had once been his father’s before he’d gotten ill.

  Ricardo descended the curving staircase and headed across the lounge, which was kitted out with expensive electronics. The twins had installed a massive television set into one wall and a stereo system that could destroy everyone’s eardrums. They also had every gaming console in production—but only the latest version. The twins, along with Brando, were addicted to gaming, and extremely competitive, their matches often ending in all-out brawls.

  He veered down a passageway, stopping outside his mother’s office. Without a doubt, he knew she was in there, the woman a workaholic where it concerned the family business. And right now, she was probably trying to work out a way to take back control.

  He knocked on the door, hearing more than one voice behind it. He removed his hand as the door opened, annoyed to find Brando staring back at him. His brother smiled wide, looking as though he’d gotten one up on him. Without a word, Brando slipped past, disappearing down the passage.

  Ricardo entered the room, closing the door behind him. His mother was sitting at his father’s desk, watching him with a guarded expression. She remained silent, waiting for him to make the first move.

  “Why were you talking to Brando?” he asked, walking towards her. “He’s a killer, not an adviser. Who’ve you got your trigger pointed at now?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you think it’s you, don’t. I would never kill my own blood, especially not my first born.”

  “I didn’t think that, even you’re not that cutthroat.”

  She pushed out of her seat. “Don’t be insolent with me. Despite what you think, I love you; I just won’t roll over. This is my household, and I will not relinquish control no matter how much you puff out your chest and throw your weight around.”

  “You have no choice in the matter. I’m now the Don, end of story.”

  His mother rounded the desk, giving him a hard stare. “You are not the Don, regardless of what you say.”

  “I am, and if you think you can continue ruling over us, you’re fooling yourself. You don’t have the authority or numbers to be the head of this famiglia. I have everyone but Brando’s vote, and if you’re thinking of trying to manipulate the others, think again. I’m not doing this to spite you; I’m doing it to keep our famiglia safe. And if you work behind my back, it’ll only weaken our armor at a critical time.”

  “I’m not working behind your back!” She jabbed his chest. “You’re working behind mine. This is my household and you will not take it from me.”

  “You can still run the household, just not the business side of things.”

  “Women are not only meant for the kitchen and bedroom.”

  Ricardo grimaced. “I didn’t mean that, I was referring to looking after the household servants as well as being a mother, not a Don.”

  “If I were a man we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “You’re not a man, you’re my madre. It’s in your nature to protect your children, but you’re holding my brothers and me back from fighting as men. We’re meant to be out on the field, not cowering behind our mother’s skirt. We’re all trained to fight—”

  “Brando’s the fighter, the rest of you are businessmen and musicians.”

  Ricardo sneered. “And we all know why you’ve given Brando that role—because he isn’t a Santini.”

  “He is a Santini!”

  “Not in blood. He’s your dead lover’s child.”

  “How dare you?!”

  Her hand whipped out, slapping him across the face. He remained still, not feeling a thing. He’d damaged his nervous system eight years ago, due to taking an experimental drug for his disorder, leaving his body with only ten percent feeling.

  “You can slap me all you want in private,” he said, “but if you raise your hand against me in front of famiglia, I will let them know exactly who Brando is.”

  “He’s a Santini, not a D’Angelo.”

  “You just confirmed what I thought. I didn’t even mention the D’Angelo name, yet you instantly knew who I was talking about. Going on looks, my guess is you had an affair with Jagger D’Angelo’s father.”

  She clenched her jaw, her silence also confirming his suspicions.

  He continued, “And from Brando’s age, my guess is you had the affair to spite my father for his affair with Valentino’s mother.”

  “That’s absurd!”

  “No, what’s absurd is that no one else even questioned his lineage, especially with his golden eyes. It’s like looking into Jagger’s eyes, just eleven years older.”

  She shook her head. “Brando’s a Santini.”

  “You can say it out loud all you like, but it won’t change his biology. I’ve suspected it for years, so I spoke with Jagger a few months back. He mentioned that his father and you were high school sweethearts, but Jagger’s mother stole him from you. So, I put one and one together, and came up with Brando. You married Papà, but you still weren’t over your first love, so when Papà cheated on you, you started seeing Davido behind his back, then nine months later you produce a golden-ey
ed baby. That’s why Papà distanced himself from Brando, because he knew Brando wasn’t his son. It’s also why you dote on him, making up for the fact that Papà doesn’t show him any love.”

  His mother blinked, looking affected by his words, but he continued, knowing he had her on the ropes.

  “Your face tells me it’s all true, but,” he tapped his head, “being me, I could never let something go. After you ordered me to kill Valentino’s mother, I questioned everything you did, as well as any hit that could’ve possibly come from your hand. Now, since you sent me to kill Valentino’s mother, I figured you also sent someone to kill the woman who stole your love—Brando’s father. However, something must’ve gone wrong, because not only was she killed, but Brando’s father was too. Did you have a falling out with your lover?”

  “No! I loved Davido. I would never have intentionally hurt him.”

  “Unintentionally?”

  She clamped her mouth shut, pain now coloring her features.

  He stared at her for a moment, then chills ran down his arms. “You didn’t get Brando to do the hit, did you?”

  “It was an accident!”

  Ricardo’s eyes widened, her words taking him aback. “You ordered him to kill his own father?”

  “Davido wasn’t meant to be there. He pushed his wife out of the way, taking the bullet for her. Please don’t tell Brando, it’ll destroy him if he knew who Davido was.”

  “I won’t tell him as long as you allow me to do my job without interfering.”

  She nodded, not even hesitating for a second.

  Ricardo continued, “Also, get him to back down, because I’m sick of him challenging everything I say and do.”

  “Brando has a mind of his own, he wants to be Don.”

  “He listens to everything you say, so tell him.”

  She nodded again, her face devastated. Ricardo wanted to give her comfort, but knew she would reap his sympathy, and right now, he needed to do the job of a Don, not a son.

  “You can leave now,” he said, heading for the desk. “I have work to do.”

  She turned around. “You may hold this information over my head, but regardless, if you hurt anyone in the famiglia, I will take the role of Don off you.”

  He pulled out the desk chair and sat down. “I would never hurt them.”

  “You may not want to, but when you go into a rage, you don’t always know what you’re doing.”

  “Again, I would never hurt my famiglia.”

  “You hurt Brando. I’ve seen his bruises.”

  “That’s controlled fighting, and he usually instigates it.”

  “He feels every punch, whereas you feel nothing,” she said, referring to his condition.

  “All the more reason why he shouldn’t challenge me.”

  “But what happens when you have an episode?”

  “My IED is under control. My medication has been upped, so rest assured, I won’t harm any member of this famiglia, and in Brando’s case,” he sneered, “I won’t seriously hurt him.”

  “You won’t hurt him at all!”

  “Again, that’s up to him.”

  “No, it’s up to you,” she snapped. “You’re not to touch any of them, Brando included, and if you stick to that, I’ll never challenge you again.”

  He turned his attention to the computer. “What’s your password?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I’m finished with this conversation; now please give me the password for the computer.”

  “You are rude and insolent.”

  “And still waiting for the password.”

  She exhaled loudly. “It’s Golden Eyes.”

  He grimaced. “I should’ve known.”

  “Are you jealous of your brother?”

  “I’ve nothing to be jealous of, only pity for his lot in life.” He keyed in the password. The computer booted up, numerous folders filling the screen.

  “Ricardo.”

  He looked up at his mother. “What?”

  She grimaced. “As you know, we’re criminals, so don’t be shocked with what you find on there. It was all done for the famiglia.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

  He looked back at the computer, now curious as to what she’d been up to.

  5

  Pedro Landi watched his soldier fight against the Black Viper in the training center, fascinated by the woman’s abilities. Physically, the pair weren’t evenly matched. His soldier towered over the woman, looking like he could snap her in two. But before he could blink, the Viper whipped around, striking the man with a round-house kick so brutal that it sent him crashing to the floor. She raised her foot to strike again, which Pedro knew would end in a kill, bloodlust written across her face.

  “Basta!” he hollered, telling her it was enough.

  She lowered her foot and turned to Pedro, bowing in respect. It was the second time he’d met one of her kind, the other occasion only a few days ago when he’d hired their bomb expert to kill Don Santini’s illegitimate son. The Black Vipers were a sisterhood of assassins and spies, mercenaries who hired out their skills for an exorbitant rate. They were also renowned for their beauty, and the one before him certainly lived up to expectations. Although she was of average height for a woman, five-seven at the most, her features and physique were anything but average. The shape of her face was chiseled to perfection, her kohl-rimmed eyes smoldering, and those lips ... they spoke of hot nights and ecstasy under the sheets. His gaze lowered down her body. She exuded raw power in every line and curve of her toned physique. Sì, she made his mouth water, but he also knew a Viper had a nasty sting, and this one looked fatal.

  He nodded at her, beyond impressed with her fighting skills, because the soldier she’d felled was a seasoned fighter. Marco had survived a number of wars, yet had fallen under a woman half his size. Though Pedro didn’t hold it against the man, because it didn’t matter how big someone was, the Vipers could cut them down to size. The women were deadly fighters, trained by the Black Russian himself, a vicious killer without a shred of empathy.

  “Well done,” Pedro said, walking up to the woman. “That was quite a show. Though, I’d prefer you didn’t try to kill my men.”

  “My apologies,” the woman said, her voice accented. She was of Egyptian descent, her black eyes mesmerizing.

  He dismissed her words with a flick of his hand. “No need to apologize, I’m just grateful you’re here. I was very pleased with the last assignment’s outcome.”

  “Our bomb expert always gets her target.”

  “She certainly did. I was driving nearby at the time and saw the explosion.”

  “We have a woman for every task, which is why I was sent for the Santini assignment. I’m the best at infiltration. I’m also the Viper with the most kills.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second, and as with the last assignment, I will wire half your payment to your bank account tonight. The other half will go in once the assignment’s completed.”

  “And what do you want me to do precisely?”

  “To find out where the Santini are hiding the Rossos, as well as to kill Sergio Rosso, his wife Anna, and their children—”

  “Children?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “It would be if I had morals.” The woman smiled wide, her black eyes shining brightly. “Though, I’m curious, why innocents?”

  “Everyone on this island knows if they kill a member of my family, I will kill all of theirs—no exceptions. The Donatelli and the Rossos sealed their fates when they murdered my daughters.” He breathed out, pain gripping his chest. “Also, if a whole family is wiped out, there’s no one to take revenge.”

  “There will be, considering you’ve just ordered the death of a woman with Santini blood, not to mention her children. The Santini will come after you.”

  “That’s why you will also kill the Santini, that is, after you extract the information I require.”

  S
he nodded. “How am I to infiltrate their household?”

  “Ricardo’s personal maid has gone missing,” he smiled, knowing exactly where she was—in a watery grave. “One of my contacts has set up an interview for her job, of which you will get.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “It’s not so straight forward. Salvatore Santini hires the staff, which means you must keep everything strictly professional. You also need to downplay your looks. Wear bland, sensible clothing to the interview and absolutely no makeup. He’s married and very moralistic when it comes to women. If you attempt to seduce him, you’ll be escorted from the premises, like the other two women I sent in.”

  “I’ve turned the most loyal of husbands.”

  “I can assure you, your charms won’t work on him. Like all the Santini, women flock to him, but unlike his brothers, he ignores all of them. The man’s a truly dedicated husband. He’s known his wife since he was a child.”

  She nodded. “Noted. What’s the job description?”

  “Cleaning the house and bathing Ricardo Santini.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “He has someone cleaning him?”

  “Sì. A number of years ago he almost died from some bad medication. As a result, he lost feeling in ninety percent of his body. This means he cannot do many things we normally take for granted. His maid told us everything in the hope we would spare her life. Of course we killed her, but she gave us vital information that you’ll use.” He handed over a sheet of paper with the maid’s duties, shaving Ricardo one of them. “So, when the time’s right, you can slit his throat without him even knowing.”

  ***

  Bianca woke in a soft bed, not knowing where she was. She didn’t recognize the floral wallpaper or the mattress beneath her or the... Her eyes went to the leaf pattern framing the ceiling, something she did recognize. The previous night’s events returned. She’d ran to the Santini compound, where her old lover lived. She hadn’t wanted to come here, but the choice had been taken out of her hands. The Santini were the only family willing to protect her after the D’Angelo Don had thrown her out of her home due to his fiancée—the sister of the man Bianca had accidentally poisoned.