Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Did the Donatelli hurt you?” she asked, worried that he’d been in the same house as the Padre, the priest a sexual predator.

  Understanding crossed his face. “Apart from a few punches, they didn’t do much. Andriena wouldn’t allow anyone to go near me,” he said, referring to one of the Donatelli women. “She even stabbed the priest when he tried to get past her.” He smiled. “She’s the sweetest woman, but when she gets all protective she becomes vicious.” Sadness fell over his face. “I wanted to bring her here, but the Donatelli wouldn’t allow it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “Grazie. Anyway, she’s better off without me.” A shadow crossed his face, the expression disappearing a second later. He smiled again, although it appeared forced. “I should go clean up before my famiglia descend upon me.” He took a hold of her right hand and kissed the back of it, then strode off, stopping at the top of the staircase as the black-eyed maid appeared. He took a hold of her hand, kissing it as well. A few seconds later, he was gone, disappearing down the staircase.

  The maid stared after him, Alessandro always worth more than one look. She then headed for Bianca and Concetta. She stopped in front of them, focusing on Concetta. “I’ve been instructed to help with the Don’s care.”

  Concetta moved aside, ordering the soldier to open the door.

  Bianca stepped in front of the maid, blocking her from entering. “This woman took advantage of Ricardo,” she said, not entirely sure whether it was true or not.

  Concetta frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She administered the antidote, then had sex with him while he was hallucinating.”

  Concetta smiled. “Oh, you’re jealous. Well, sorry, Bianca, but I highly doubt she could take advantage of my figlio. If anything, he probably took advantage of her. So, if you’re getting romantic notions of getting him back, don’t.”

  She walked past Bianca and the maid, heading for the staircase.

  The maid smiled at Bianca, her expression smug. She sidestepped Bianca, and entered the room. Bianca turned to follow her.

  The soldier closed the door on her again. “You’re not permitted to enter.”

  “But she did.”

  “She has permission, you haven’t.”

  She let out an angry grunt, then stormed to her room, not knowing whether Ricardo had lied or not. But regardless, she was going to watch that maid like a hawk.

  16

  Something touched Ricardo, rocking him awake. He opened his eyes, pain hitting him all at once. He groaned, his vision going blurry. He lifted a hand to rub his face, but stopped, finding an IV attached to his arm. He went to pull it out, but someone grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked up at its owner, finding Lisa staring down at him.

  “Are you feeling pain?” she asked.

  “Sì,” he groaned. “What happened?”

  “You were shot in your left arm and shoulder; you also have shrapnel wounds and a head injury.”

  Ricardo brought his other hand to his shoulder, feeling a bandage wrapped around it. “It’s burning.”

  “I’ll get you pain relief. Though, you wouldn’t need it if you’d just listened to me about not overusing your medication.”

  “I don’t care,” Ricardo croaked out. “I need my medication. When can I have some more?”

  “In a day or two. I had to administer other drugs when you came in yesterday, so you have to give your body a rest.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “Sì, you were injured during the exchange for Alessandro.”

  “I slept a whole day?” he asked, surprised.

  “Sì.”

  Something important pushed at the back of his mind. He brought a hand to his head, trying to remember why today was so special. Valentino! He went to sit up, realizing it was his brother’s funeral today. He groaned, his head hurting like hell. “Why is my head hurting so bad?”

  “You took a knock to it when the explosion flung you back.” She ran a hand gently over the top of his head.

  “It doesn’t matter; I need to go to Valentino’s funeral.”

  “There’s no need,” Salvatore said.

  Ricardo turned over, finding his brother leaning against the wall by the window. “Like hell there isn’t. I don’t care if you have to wheel me there, I’m going.”

  “There’s no funeral to go to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s no body.”

  “He’ll still have remains to cremate.”

  “No, there’s nothing. Only one body was found in the wreckage. It’s been identified as Valentino’s bodyguard, Niko Gambino. Valentino wasn’t in the car at the time of the explosion.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “No one knows.”

  ***

  Confusion filled the man’s mind. Dried blood covered one side of his head, while his hands stung from burns. He stumbled down the narrow cobbled street. It felt like he’d been asleep for days, his joints and muscles stiff and aching. Unable to walk even one more step, he slumped to the ground and leaned his back against the stone wall. He’d woken up an hour ago, finding vagabond children going through his clothes. He’d startled them away, but it had been too late. The children had cleaned out his pockets, leaving him with no way of telling who he was.

  He licked his cracked lips, aching for a cold drink. A homeless person looked across the street at him, the old woman’s eyes weary. She was dressed in rags, layered on top of each other, and was sitting on a flattened box, hugging a straggly dog, the creature as weather-beaten as she was.

  Her eyes lowered down his body, drawing his attention to it. His button-down shirt was smeared with blood while his dark pants and jacket were burnt in patches, the material, or what was left of it, suggesting he’d come from wealth. He just wished he could remember who he was. He shaded his eyes and looked up at the sun, knowing he needed to get water before he passed out from dehydration.

  He pushed to his feet, wincing at the sting on his hands. His palms were raw, his flesh burnt off. They looked red and angry, probably infected. A vague memory of trying to get someone out of a burning car returned. He couldn’t remember who it was, just knew the person was important to him. Then another explosion had happened, hurling him backwards. He’d blacked out for a moment, then had awoken at the sound of voices. His instincts had told him to run, that someone wanted him dead.

  Worried they were still looking for him, he stumbled down the road. A door opened on his right. He turned to it, startling a woman as she stepped out. She ran back inside her house, slamming the door shut. He banged on it with the back of his hands, begging for water.

  “No mafioso, no mafioso!” she cried.

  He stopped banging, the word mafioso making him pause. He looked back down at his body, his gaze moving to the holster over the silk shirt. There were no guns in the slots, but he knew at one stage there must have been.

  He turned his head at the sound of a police car. He took off, now knowing what he was—mafia.

  ***

  Ricardo headed out of his room with Salvatore, his mind now on Valentino, the pain in his body of no consequence. If anything, it kept him grounded, even felt good in a sick kind of way—better than not feeling at all.

  Lisa ran after him, telling him to get back to bed. Ignoring her, he descended the staircase and crossed the lounge, Salvatore shadowing him. The news that Valentino hadn’t been killed in the explosion had taken Ricardo by surprise. Although it gave him hope, it still left him with a major question: where the fuck was his brother? Ricardo didn’t think Valentino was the kind of person to leave his bodyguard and best friend to burn alive. Someone must have taken him—the culprit of the bomb attack. All the evidence pointed to the Landi, who’d driven past only minutes prior to the explosion.

  Ricardo entered his office and picked up the phone, dialing Pedro’s number. A deep voice answered, disdain tempering it. “Ricardo,” the Landi Don said. “Why are you calling m
e?”

  “I want my brother back.”

  “I have none of your brothers.”

  “Then where is Valentino Pirelli?”

  “Oh, you’re looking for that brother. I thought he was dead.”

  “Don’t play with me; I know you blew up his car.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “Believe what you like, I don’t care. And by the way, if I did have him, I’d post you his head.”

  “He did nothing to your famiglia!” Ricardo yelled, not giving a merda how much it hurt his head. “I’ve also done nothing to you! Yet you attack my famiglia and friends. This war you’ve created should be aimed at the Donatelli, not the Santini or Rossos.”

  “The Rossos led my bambine to the slaughter!” Pedro yelled back.

  “I still don’t believe that, and even if they did, it’s wrong to attack their women and children. Find the culprits and make them pay.”

  “You know my law. If someone hurts any member of my famiglia, I will kill all of theirs. The Donatelli and Rossos have written their own fate with my daughters’ blood.”

  “The Rossos are innocent,” he said, not sure whether it was true. His injuries had stopped him from questioning Sergio, but regardless, it still didn’t give the fat stronzo on the other end of the line the right to attack women and children. He continued, “The Donatelli are using them as scapegoats to pit my famiglia against yours. You must see that. Those bastardi want us to wipe each other out.”

  “The Rossos are not scapegoats,” Pedro replied. “My daughter said they helped the Donatelli, and you should be backing me over them. I had an alliance with your father.”

  “Famiglia outranks alliances. I have two nieces and a nephew who are Rosso, and I will die before I allow you to hurt them.”

  “Then we’ll remain enemies. So, keep your famiglia close to you, Ricardo, because if my men come across any of them, they will be cut down.” He paused. “By the way, my men enjoyed Valentino’s wife before they riddled her body with bullets, and when they find his daughters, I will crucify them as was done to my girls.”

  “My nieces are not Rosso, they are Pirelli!”

  “They’re the only girls with Rosso blood who are the same age as my daughters, so you must know what that means: an eye for an eye, my girls’ deaths for your nieces’ deaths. They will die, mark my words.”

  “No, mark my words, they won’t die, you will, because you’ve just sealed your fate. I will crucify you just for that threat alone.”

  “It’s a vendetta, not a threat, so protect them well, Ricardo, otherwise I will send you the photo of their crucifixion like the Donatelli sent me my daughters’,” Pedro’s voice broke, the man pausing for a moment. “And by the way, if you get a large package in the mail from me, it’s not a bomb; it’ll be the heads of the spies you planted in my house.” He hung up.

  Ricardo threw the phone at the wall, his temper now raging, anger thrashing through his body.

  Salvatore stepped back. “Don’t,” he said, his tone warning. “You can’t afford to lose control again.”

  Ricardo clenched his hands, everything in his body screaming at him to destroy. And he would—Pedro his target. He needed to vent his rage on the bastardo, to see the man’s blood coloring his hands, to feel it, to breathe it in...

  “RICARDO!” Salvatore yelled. “Control yourself!”

  Ricardo looked down at his fists. Blood covered his knuckles. His eyes darted to Salvatore, scared he’d hurt him. His brother was standing in the doorway, unharmed, his expression resolute. Intensely relieved, Ricardo moved his gaze to the wall. Blood smeared the plaster, cracks spidering out from it. His mind went to Pedro’s threat, Valentino’s daughters’ safety now at the forefront of his mind.

  He turned to Salvatore. “Where are Mira and Siena?”

  “In their room playing PlayStation.”

  “I must see them,” Ricardo said, going for the door.

  Salvatore blocked his way. “Not in your current state of mind.”

  Ricardo stopped in front of his brother. “I would never hurt children.”

  “You hurt Vinnie.”

  Ricardo clenched his jaw. “I would never lift a hand against a child.”

  “You don’t know what you do during a blind rage, it isn’t safe.”

  Ricardo breathed out again, his anger still bubbling under the surface. He hadn’t had any medication for two days now, the remnants of the previous injections negated by the antidote. “Then I’ll take my meds,” he said.

  “That’s not happening, you heard what Lisa said. You just need to go to your room, and stay there until tomorrow.”

  “Then get out of my way,” Ricardo snapped, having no intention of doing it.

  Salvatore stepped aside. Ricardo stormed out, entering the lounge a few seconds later. The twins were sitting on the couch, playing Xbox. The swelling on Vinnie’s face had gone down, but his bruising was colorful. The twins looked up at Ricardo, Dominic instantly looking away.

  Ricardo stopped a few feet from them. “How long are you going to ignore me, Dominic?”

  Dominic continued to play his game.

  “Give him time,” Vinnie said.

  “A lifetime,” Dominic muttered.

  Ricardo ignored Dominic’s remark. “Where’s Brando?” he asked Vinnie. Regardless of the fallout, he needed to know that Brando was safe, especially with Pedro’s threat hanging over their heads.

  “We don’t know,” Vinnie answered.

  “He has to be found. The war with the Landi has escalated. Pedro’s soldiers will kill any Santini upon sight.”

  “Fuck!” both Vinnie and Dominic swore.

  “And he wants to crucify Valentino’s daughters, like the Donatelli did to his.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Vinnie said. “They aren’t Donatelli or Rosso in name.”

  “All he cares about is their Rosso blood and that they’re the same ages as his dead daughters, which means they’re not to leave this house until Pedro is taken out.”

  Dominic stood up. “I’ll take the fucker out.”

  “Grazie for the offer, but Brando’s more suited to the job,” Ricardo replied, glad that Dominic was talking to him. “Also, the spies I sent in to watch the Landi are dead, so we need to attack them head-on. Vinnie, arrange the soldiers and whatever we have in the armory, while, Dominic, you find Brando. Things may be bad for him, but the whole famiglia are in danger now, and he’s the only one capable of getting close enough to Pedro without getting hurt. I know he usually needs more time to prepare, but we just don’t have it.”

  Dominic’s features hardened. “I wouldn’t need to find him if you’d kept your fucking mouth shut. Do you think you were the only one who noticed he was a D’Angelo?”

  “You knew?”

  “I had a feeling our madre must’ve had an affair. I assumed it was with Davido due to Brando’s looks; I just didn’t know Brando had killed him, and if I did, I wouldn’t have said merda about it. He’s still our brother, and now he has the blood of his father on his conscience because of your fucking big mouth.”

  “I lost my temper, said things I shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s always your temper you blame it on, never yourself.”

  “I do blame myself.”

  “Then the next time keep your mouth shut!”

  “Watch your tone! I’m still your Don.”

  “Pump your chest out and raise your voice all you want, but you won’t get any respect from me until you can show everyone in this household you deserve to be Don, instead of a patient in a mental asylum.” Dominic turned back to his game, dismissing Ricardo in an instant.

  Ricardo clenched his hands. Vinnie shook his head, his eyes begging Ricardo not to react. Ricardo focused on the bruising and swelling on Vinnie’s face, using it to bring him down, but it didn’t work, his anger once again building up. Knowing he had to get out of there, he went for the stairc
ase, rushing up it quickly. Salvatore followed. Ricardo snapped at him to back off, then veered down the passage to his room. Bianca’s door opened as he neared it.

  She stepped into the passage, jolting when she saw him. “How are you?” she asked, appearing nervous.

  He strode past her without saying a word—knowing he was a breath away from exploding.

  ***

  Ricardo didn’t say a word, just walked past, as though Bianca was an inconvenience. She’d talked herself into believing that he’d told the truth about the maid, yet what he’d just done pretty much confirmed she’d been fooling herself. He’d used her, like all the other men before him—and she wasn’t going to stand for it anymore.

  She stormed after him, pushing inside of his bedroom before he could close the door. He took a step back, looking surprised at her intrusion.

  She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You don’t have a right to treat me like this, as though I’m not worthy to walk the same ground as your arrogant ass.”

  He blinked at her, still appearing stunned.

  She continued, wanting to get all her anger out, because he sure as hell didn’t monopolize the emotion. “Just because you’re Don doesn’t mean you can get away with using me.”

  “I didn’t use you.”

  “Like hell you didn’t!” She shoved him. He was so much bigger than her, but she didn’t care. He could hit her, and she would take it, she had with her husband, and this violent bastardo was no different, other than having much nicer packaging. She almost felt like taunting him into hitting her, so she could be done with all her romantic notions. She wanted to see the monster, not the stunning man before her, so she could walk out of his house and never think of him again.

  Ricardo stepped back, looking unsure of himself, an expression she didn’t expect to see on his face.

  She followed, not allowing him to escape what she was saying. “You used me in the past too, to get over Ghita. You probably fucked me, wishing I was her.”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t lie! I know she meant the world to you. That’s why you kept chasing her, unlike with me.”