Capu

by Sienna Mynx

  Contents

  The Divas Pen LLC Publication

  Prelude

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Battaglia Mafia Series by Sienna Mynx

  About the Author

  The Divas Pen LLC Publication

  http://thedivaspen.com

  Capu

  The Battaglia Mafia Series

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Capu © Copyright 2016 Sienna Mynx

  Cover art by Reese Dante

  Electronic book publication November 2016

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, The Diva’s Pen LLC.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously

  Prelude

  July 1994

  Sorrento Italy

  The day would have been perfect if it were only thirty degrees cooler. Carlo Alvise Giordano had a remedy for the sun. He worked with no shirt and a cool, wet towel on top of his head. It regulated his temperature as his skin browned under the heat’s rays. He could bake for hours this way.

  Carlo, one of the top enforcers in the notorious Battaglia clan, had an hour or two before he would meet his men for a friendly game of soccer. The game was best played in the waning hours of a summer day. Most men couldn’t take the heat. Carlo was intent on finishing his personal project first. It was the only joy he found while enduring his shitty vacation.

  The wrench locked around the bolt did a slow rusty turned and loosened. American Rock & Roll blared from a television he’d wired to act as a radio receiver. He could pick up stations all along the Amalfi. He sat it in the window of his villa with wire hanger antennas straightened and pointed east. He preferred to do his work out in the backyard under the sun.

  A cigarillo hung from his pressed lips. Sweat dripped from this brow. It trailed down his temples and dropped in tiny pearls of water from his chin. The boss had been generous. After the murder of his brother, and time spent in jail, the Don had told him to take some time off to clear his head. Fuck it. He’d rather spend his time smashing skulls instead.

  “Eh, Carlo! Telefono!”

  Carlo turned the wrench harder, and the bolt spun loose. He stepped back before a grated cover dropped and landed on the ground. He wasn’t sure what he aimed to create out of the scrap metal, but as soon as it was wired he’d give it a name. He removed the cigarillo from his mouth and exhaled smoke from his nostrils.

  “Boss! Boss! Telefono!”

  He turned and looked back to the villa. The sun blinded him. The blaring guitar instrumental had deafened him. Mateo waved his hand for him to come in.

  Carlo tossed the wrench into the toolbox with his other tools. He had a total of sixteen electronic gadgets he’d worked on in the backyard that were too large to bring into the house. He went to the television and turned it off.

  Inside were several of his young proteges, all trained to be ruthless under him. Young men always flocked to him in the underworld; to get hardened, or to prove their toughness. Boys from ages twelve to twenty hung around his villa, and slept in his yard or on his floors. He was their protector. A surrogate father. A friend.

  “Vaffanculo,” he said to the two seated at his small table playing cards. The boys, only fifteen or sixteen, nodded and left. Carlo picked up the phone resting on the counter.

  “This is Carlo,” he answered.

  “Hi, it’s me,” a woman said.

  “Marietta?” Carlo frowned. “Lorenzo ain’t here, sweetheart.”

  Marietta chuckled. “I know that. He’s in bed where I left him.”

  Carlo scratched his brow. The last thing he wanted to think of was Marietta and Lorenzo fucking. “C‘è un problema? What is the problem?”

  “Have you spoken to Shae?” Marietta asked.

  Carlo released a deep breath. Last week he had a nasty argument with Shae. She had promised to return to Italy. Promised! Now she was canceling on him once again. He missed her, and even his saying so didn’t change a thing. It irked him that she could dismiss him. He wasn’t a man to beg. He had his fucking pride. So he decided to stop calling her. Teach her a lesson. It backfired. She stopped calling him. The last they spoke they talked of making a serious commitment. Now he had no clue as to where they stood. He spent more time in the streets with his men to forget the ache he felt since she left Italy. And since he now had time off after the death of his brother, there wasn’t much out there to keep his mind off of her.

  “Carlo?”

  “We had a fight. I’ll call her in a few days when she cools off.”

  “I think you should go see her. Check up on her,” Marietta said.

  Carlo frowned. “Why? Something wrong?”

  “I dunno. I spoke to her last night, and she was... not herself. She sounded stressed, Carlo.”

  “About me?” he asked, and his heart raced with excitement. Shae was a tough one. She never showed emotion unless he was fucking her. To hear she was upset gave him hope. Maybe she was vested in him. It would be a change.

  “I think she’s got trouble with her business. Things aren’t good for her in Vegas. I know you care about her, and she wouldn’t call you to ask to you come. Why don’t you reach out to her? Lorenzo said you have time off. What about a trip to America?”

  “Why do you care if I go or not?” Carlo asked.

  “What?”

  “Why do you care? You said we didn’t fit. Now you want me to go to America to be with her? Why?”

  Marietta exhaled deeply. “Are you kidding? You and Shae found something. I may not think it will last, but it sure as hell made you happy. Stop being an asshole and at least admit it. You know what. Forget I called. You’re right; it’s none of my business. Stay miserable.”

  The line went dead.

  Carlo frowned. He had let go of his feelings for Marietta. He had to wonder if he ever had them since he met Shae. But it was hard not to do the destructive thing. The bastard in him preferred to be miserable. The coward in him warned him not to trust his feelings for Shae. Maybe his best friend’s wife had a point. Still hearing her speak on his happiness made him feel funny. Shae was fun, Shae was different, Shae was worth the effort. If he called her and she told him to fuck off, then he’d fuck off. If she said come to Vegas, he’d go. It was simple as that.

  Carlo dialed the number he had for Shae from memory. A woman answered the phone. Different women always answered the phone.

  “I need to speak to Shae.”

  “Ah? Who’s calling please?”

  “Her man. Tell her to c
ome to the phone.”

  The woman went silent.

  “It’s Carlo! Tell her I’m on the phone.”

  “Hold on,” the woman said.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited.

  “Carlo?”

  “I’m coming to America. To see you. Am I welcome?”

  Shae chuckled. “So you aren’t mad at me anymore?”

  “You miss me?” he asked.

  “Yes. I miss you, Carlo. And thanks for telling Tasha you’re my man and not telling me. A girl would like flowers and candy before she finds out she’s going steady.”

  “Why aren’t you my woman? We had fun; we like each other, why not? We talked about this, haven't we?”

  “For one, you never asked. For two you live in another country.”

  “I’m not used to asking. If I say it, then it’s done.”

  “No, sweetheart, not when it comes to me. You want me; you come get me.”

  “I’m booking a flight to leave tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Shae chuckled softly. “I was thinking about you today. I’m glad you called.”

  “You weren’t going to call me?” he asked.

  “You were pretty mean to me the last time we talked.”

  Carlo had been drinking. He had his clan of young tough-boys around him. He was an ass to cover up his hurt feelings. “I’ll apologize in person.”

  “I’d like that. Things have been a bit weird for me lately. I miss you.” Her voice sounded different. He waited for a witty comeback or an excuse to dismiss her moment of vulnerability. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he was the only man in her life. He’d done nothing to earn that title. Though the thought of another man with her pissed him off.

  “Shae? You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Been a long day. Are you seriously flying out tomorrow?” she asked.

  “If I can find a flight. Let me call the airline. I’ll call you back.”

  “Okay,” she said. “We will have so much fun! Kisses! Ciao!”

  Carlo smiled. Marietta was right, and that surprised him. Shae wanted to see him; she sounded like she needed him. Carlo pulled out the phone book from a drawer and called the airline.

  ***

  Carlo drank from his beer. The boys were wrestling out on the yard. They were drunk. What started as a game between them, turned into something different. It happened at times. His only rule was no one was to go for their gun. They had to take an ass beating like a man.

  A car drove up. Carlo squinted at the headlights.

  Renaldo got out of the car. He walked toward him. “You ready?” Renaldo asked.

  “Mateo, get my luggage and put it in the car.” Carlo stood. He tossed the bottle to an empty barrel outside of his villa. Renaldo glanced to the boys wrestling, and then around at Carlo’s villa. There were several junk cars in the yard. The door to his villa was wide open, and boys were inside playing cards and watching television. Some of the boys had started a fire in one of the empty barrels on his land and fed it wood to keep the flames going. They stood around it smoking weed. It was silly to do so with the sweltering humidity.

  “Why do you live like this? I know for a fact you have enough money to buy all of these boys a villa of their own. You let them pile up here, and the junk.”

  “Sta' zitto—shut up,” Carlo shrugged. “They’re family.”

  Mateo put his bags in the car. The boys stopped fighting. They all stopped and watched Carlo leave. “Don’t burn down the fucking place while I’m away,” he said and tossed the keys to Mateo. “You’re in charge.”

  “The boys all cheered as if they’d won a prize. And they had. Some of them didn’t have homes to go to, and now they had Carlo’s place all to themselves. Renaldo went to the car and got in shaking his head. Carlo got in and dropped the seat. It turned out there was a late flight out of Napoli that would take him to New York. He could then fly from New York to Vegas. He was looking forward to it.

  “You going to see Shae? For how long?”

  “Two or three weeks.”

  “You like her?” Renaldo asked.

  “I like fucking her,” he said.

  Renaldo chuckled. “I guess that means yes.”

  Carlo smiled. He glanced out of the window. He was excited. For the first time in weeks, he had something to look forward to. Shae. He’d never admit it to anyone, but she was more than a good lay. She was the one person to pull him back from the brink of darkness. And that was only after a few days of knowing her. At this rate, he had to wonder what the next three weeks would bring. Either way, he was ready for her.

  Chapter One

  Shannon ‘Shae’ Dennis didn’t get nervous. She waited inside the terminal for Carlo to descend the escalator. It felt like the longest wait of her life. She and Carlo had a terrible fight a week ago. He demanded she come to Italy. Demanded! Shae wanted to see him, but the problems with her business prevented her from the yo-yo traveling between Chicago, Italy, and Vegas. Carlo didn’t want to listen to what he said were her excuses. He kept making his demands and twisting the knife in her heart over her lack of support. Eventually, she snapped and told him to go to hell. The call ended with her slamming the phone down on him. She didn’t remember. It was stupid. What she wanted to say, and couldn’t was that he should come to her. Rescue her, be her hero. She wasn’t able to. Her insecurities and pride won out every time. The short time she spent helping him deal with his grief after the death of his brother was murdered, bound him to her heart. His friends and family didn’t know the man she did. Carlo was a complicated man.

  Shae fixed her pink leather miniskirt and pulled it down her thick thighs. She wore a ruffled white, sheer, loose fitted, pirates blouse with it, and a bright pink bra underneath. And her dark brown hair was streaked with pink tresses to the front and was much longer thanks to extensions her beautician added. She wore her hair with a side part and long curls covering the side of her face. Large pink hoop rhinestone earrings swung from her lobes and matched the many pink rhinestone bracelets on her wrists. If no one could guess it, she'd happily admit that pink was her favorite color. She had a memory that she didn’t know if it was true or a dream, but it was of her mother before she abandoned her as a toddler. The only thing her mother had given her before she left was a pink crayon. Shae kept the crayon with her through all the terrible years that followed, until it was lost in foster care. The color made her feel safe, even if her father never did.

  It was over a hundred degrees outside, but no one in Vegas went outside in the middle of the summer, so her leather mini-skirt was fine. She often wore long sleeves because of the frosty coldness of the casinos. Vegas was the land of casinos. They even had slot machines in Burger King.

  A flight must have landed. People began to crowd and descend the escalator. She searched the faces of the men. And then she saw him. Carlo. Her vision froze on his tall form. He wore dark sunglasses. Even still he seemed to be looking directly at her. Shae stopped waving and smiled. Carlo was rock star kind of handsome. His thick dark hair that reached his nape, and his hard, strong jawline, along with his tall, athletic frame, had a few women and men looking at him as they rode up the escalator while he glided down. She liked her men tough. Carlo was the toughest of the tough. Shae smiled. Carlo didn’t.

  Carlo was pissed. Earlier a man next to him on the flight from New York to Vegas spent the entire time on the plane vomiting into airplane bags. After so many travel hours, he couldn’t stomach the irritation. And then the man puked in his own lap, making the plane reek before landing. But his sour mood lifted when he saw her. How could he miss his sexy bambina? Her hair was different. It was dark and long. She had a pink stripe of hair to the front of her hair, sweeping over her eye along her long bang, and in ringlet curls. She wore a sexy leather mini-skirt that squeezed her thick thighs and heart shaped hips. She jumped in her high heels and waved her arm at him. Her loose fitted blouse with strings to tighten the opening over her bodice did
little to conceal the swell of her breasts that jiggled in a pink bikini bra.

  It was Shae. And fourteen hours of travel was well worth it.

  He came off the escalator, and she ran straight for him. He caught her with one arm as she leaped up into his embrace. Several other travelers paused to stare at them. Most of them men when Shae’s skirt rose up to just under her ass. A man can look. But anyone brave enough to touch would get his neck and back broke.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  Shae grabbed his face. She kissed him in her usual wicked way, tongue sweeping in and out of his mouth, devouring his kiss. The piercing in her tongue was new. He felt the small bauble when his tongue grazed hers. He liked it.

  “You pierced your tongue?” he asked.

  “You like it?” she asked.

  “Why?” Carlo laughed.

  She grabbed his dick. Not many could see because they stood so close. Carlo’s eyes stretched behind his sunglasses. Shae let go of his dick. “When I suck it, you’ll know why.”

  Carlo groaned. “I missed you, bambina.”

  "Say it in Italian," she put her hands on her hips.

  “Mi manchi, bambina,” he said.

  She clapped her hands in celebration, causing her bracelets to chime. "Oooh I love when you talk that way, sweetie!”

  “Come here,” he pulled her close again. “Touch my dick again.”

  "Carlo!" Shae laughed. "We'll get arrested. Stop playing." She eased her arm around his waist, and they started toward the luggage carousel. A man with a chauffeur’s cap watched him. Carlo frowned at the way the man made direct eye contact.

  “That’s Eddie. He’s our driver.”

  "Oh, Eddie," Carlo gave the man the nod of approval.

  “Point out your luggage and he’ll get it.”

  When they arrived at the carousel, luggage began to drop. Shae continued to snuggle his side. “How was your flight?”

  “Long, too long, I need a shower and a drink,” he said and squeezed the fat roundness of her ass.