by Sienna Mynx
“Matches your yellow one.”
“I can only drive one at a time Gio.”
“It’s Christmas. Drive em both!”
Dominic couldn’t help but smile. Giovanni pulled him into a brotherly hug and he hugged him back. It was the worst Christmas of their life, but neither could admit it. Everyone was gone, everything had changed. But the brotherhood with Giovanni felt solid. And though he and Giovanni didn’t say it when Mirabella came for them and they laughed with her to see the kids playing with their toys. They knew and accepted the hard truth. Christmas would never be the same again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Il Protettrice - The Protrectress
Palermo, Sicily
SICILIANS AND ITALIANS traditional celebrations often extend beyond Christmas Day. It was two days after the holy holiday but the city remained unchanged. Marissa smiled at the festive decorations on either sides of the street. She often escaped the palazzo and ventured into the city.
It was a welcome break from boredom. Winning over Catalina was not as easily done in the Mancini palace. She isolated herself and kept to the bedroom where no one was granted access but the servant, Bionca. Marissa spent most of her days exploring Palermo, shopping and sunning near the beaches. However violent the mafia street wars had become, being a guest of Lorenzo Battaglia in his region came with its perks.
“So where exactly is this place?” Marissa asked.
Bionca smiled. “I told you, we’re almost there. It’s not far.”
Marissa nodded. She glanced out of the window as they drove down via Roma. The rich architecture of the buildings reminded her of Barcelona. And the holiday had made the shops festive and bright with ribbons and decorations. She’d been shopping along via Roma hundreds of times but when she complained of not finding any real jewelry shops during a garden lunch with Catalina, both women told her that there was an exclusive jeweler that she should visit. Bionca volunteered to take her, and Catalina told her she could get anything she wanted. Marissa was bursting with excitement.
It was hard to remain calm. Bionca had never been a calculating person. She’d never done anything like this before. But her life and her family’s life depended on it. Even more so, she hated the Armenian woman and her snake charmer ways. She’d been watching her prance around, drink liquor, fuck the men that worked for Lorenzo and be pampered with Don Armando’s money. Catalina seemed grateful just to have the woman keep her company and ignored her self-indulgent ways. Not Bionca. She knew a serpent in disguise when she saw one. So when Dominic Battaglia called and told her the plan, she agreed. Still death was a sin she couldn’t easily commit too. And what she was doing now was certainly the conviction and death sentence of Marissa.
It was easy enough to pull off. As soon as Marissa started rambling to Catalina about wanting to do more shopping Bionca steered the conversation to the jeweler that both the Battaglias and Mancinis used. He did personalized jewelry for Marsuvio Mancini. It was rumored that he was the one that designed the jewelry for Mirabella and Marietta Battaglia, the bastard daughters of Marsuvio. Now, she herself had to deliver Marissa and this drive felt like the longest of her life.
“So how long do you plan to stay in Sicily?” Bionca asked her.
Marissa didn’t answer at first, and then a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth as she spoke. “Until the baby is born.”
“Oh? And then... what are your plans?”
“What are yours?” Marissa countered.
“I beg your pardon?” Bionca asked.
“You plan to be a servant to Lorenzo Battaglia now that your Don is dead? What if Catalina Battaglia returns to Italy? Will you go with her?”
“My life is here in Sicily with my family. And my job is more than servitude. I work for the Mancini family because they are... they were... family to me.”
Marissa laughed. “You cook meals and clean toilets. You’re a servant.”
Bionca cut the woman a sideways glance. Any compassion she had for her evaporated. She returned her gaze to the road. She drove a little faster to their destination. They parked on a side road narrow enough for a single car. However, there were two black sedans squeezed into the tight space with dark tinted windows. Marissa looked around curiously and then to Bionca for an explanation.
“It’s best to park here. That must be the owners. Those look like their cars.”
“You really didn’t have to bring me. One of the men could have done it. Catalina has given me her credit card. I’ll be doing more shopping.”
“That’s fine. I can leave you with the jeweler and send the men to come to get you. I just wanted to make the introduction. Make sure you get the best service.”
Marissa gave her a sly smile. “How generous of you, Bionca. Trust me, my family is known everywhere. Even in this shit hole. I don’t need the maid to make introductions for me.”
Bionca smiled in return and the women got out of the car. Marissa struggled in her pointed high-heel shoes along the cobblestone path to the sidewalk. Bionca had to mask her pleasure at the serpent’s stumbles. She walked her to the door. The moment they reached it Bionca lost her nerve. She stood there looking at the door as if the handle was made of spiders.
“What’s wrong with you? Is this the place or isn’t it?”
Bionca could feel her palms sweat. No matter the crimes that Marissa had committed no one deserved what waited for her with the Battaglias. This sin felt too great to shoulder. She wasn’t a murder.
“Move!” Marissa shoved her.
“Wait!” Bionca grabbed Marissa’s arm before she pushed the door open. “They look to be closed. Let’s go and—.”
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Marissa snatched away. She glared at her. “I’ll take it from here. You go home and send me Arnaldo.”
Bionca stepped back. Marissa tossed her dark hair and pushed the door open. She went inside. Bionca stood there on the sidewalk for several minutes. She didn’t know what to expect. Marissa running out screaming for her life? The sound of gunshots from an assassin’s bullet? What? Nothing happened. She looked around the street and saw no one, not even a car. Had the Battaglias made the shopkeepers close their stores? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. Bionca ran for her car. And she didn’t look back.
“Ciao?” Marissa said. She stepped into the dark jewelry store. The walls were a coal black. The display cases were beset with dark velvet as well. Jewelry sparkled, gold and diamonds all looked polished and pristine.
“Hello?” Marissa said again. When no one answered she walked over to the display case of diamonds. She nearly salivated at the arrangements. Of course, she had plenty of jewelry at home, but it was the rush of buying jewels with someone else’s money that thrilled her.
“Ciao, bella,” a voice spoke.
Marissa turned in surprise. A man was there. He was accompanied by four others. All of them dressed sharply in dark suits with black ties. Two of the men came from behind the counters and approached her. Marissa was too surprised at their appearance to retreat. She stood frozen. Suddenly she recalled Bionca’s frozen state outside of the jewelry shop. How she refused to enter.
“Ah... I—”
One of the men approaching passed her. He went to the door. He locked it. The other stopped in front of her. He was tall and handsome. He had dark piercing eyes and when the corner of his mouth tilted she caught a glimpse of a side tooth encased in gold. The only people she ever saw put gold in their mouths were the gypsies. This man was no gypsy. She couldn’t look from his eyes. There was something deeply sinister inside of them, something raw. And she felt the same dangerous energy come from him that she felt from one other man. Carlo.
“I was supposed to meet... Del Stavio.”
“Del Stavio?” The man behind the counter said. He was more handsome than them all. The one with the gold tooth stepped to her. She was now face to face with the only man to speak. “Del Stavio is dead... his son Jacopo is now the jeweler to the Don
’s.”
“Ah, yes, I was supposed to meet Jacopo, but if he isn’t here I can come back. I think I will come back.” She turned and bumped into the gold tooth man behind her. He didn’t move. But his hand went to her hip as if to steady her. There was something deceptive about his gentle his touch. She didn’t like it. So she stepped away from his reach.
“Marissa, that is your name, isn’t it?”
“I... I can come back.”
“Do you know who I am?” the other man asked.
“I can leave my number for Jacopo and then he can call me.”
“I’m Dominic Battaglia,” he informed her.
Her heart fell. She knew enough about Dominic to know danger was imminent. She opened her mouth to scream but the gloved hand of the gold tooth man covered it. His strong arm slipped around her waist. He locked her against him. His hold so tight there was no point in struggling. Her eyes stretched with fear.
“How is my Catalina?” Dominic asked. “Does she talk about me?”
Marissa tried to nod her head. The truth was Catalina only spoke of him once, and when she did she cried. She didn’t know much of the story between them, but it was clear to her now. Maybe the Battaglias didn’t know who she was. Maybe Dominic had captured her to get information on Catalina. This could work to her favor.
The arm around her midsection eased its grip and slipped away. Her feet were now on the floor. Marissa relaxed. Dominic stared at her, but he didn’t have a gun. There was nothing threatening about him.
“You should have never come to Sicily,” Dominic said. “America suits you best.”
“Wait!” Marissa screamed behind the gloved fingers once holding her mouth now held a knife and the sharpest blade she’d ever known sliced with lightning speed across her throat. She didn’t feel pain, not at first. But the pain came after the shock. And as her life flashed before her eyes and she bled from her neck in front of them she had one final thought. She should have never left Las Vegas.
Umberto dropped the dead woman to the floor. He cleaned his blade with his gloved fingers and stepped over her corpse. His man behind him came over to pick her up. Dominic turned and walked out. He didn’t say a thing. He didn’t have to. This was now Umberto’s job.
“Clean the place. Put the body in the trunk of my car. Let’s be quick. I’ve told the shopkeepers they can reopen the stores here in an hour,” Umberto announced.
He walked out through the back doors of the jewelry shop. He arrived in the street to see Dominic easing into an awaiting car. He glanced up to the windows of the apartment homes above him. Several people peeked out from behind curtains. They knew who he was. And they feared him. Umberto liked that. Since Carlo left he held all the prominence he could hope for. Maybe someday he could be Underboss. He’d happily put a bullet in Lorenzo and Carlo to become one.
He got in the vehicle. The body of the young woman was put into the boot of his car. His man got inside with him. “Where will we take her boss?” he asked.
“I know the perfect place. Used to bury bodies there when I was a kid.”
The man frowned.
Umberto laughed. “I’m kidding. I was seventeen.”
He and his enforcer shared a laugh.
OMERTA BOOK I
ACT THREE
Winter
February 1995
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
La Missione - The Mission
Zürich, Switzerland - February 19, 1995
LORENZO EASED A DARK pair of sunglasses back on his face. The customs agent returned his passport with a snort. It was more like a toss back at him. He’d mastered restraint and patience for the past two months. It was best to ignore the coglione and remain humble.
“Move on,” said the customs guard behind the agent. Lorenzo tipped his head and plucked his bag from the floor with one hand before he walked off. Many things had changed. And no change had been more dramatic than Lorenzo’s appearance. His hair had grown much longer, and his beard covered part of his face. It made his fake passport much more useful, and custom agents even more distrustful. Covering his identity was crucial now. Giovanni had firebombed the Sicilian Dons into near oblivion. His war, had come in the form of kidnappings, politician payoffs, and extortion. There were only three families left from the carnage. And the Carabinieri was crawling all over them like cockroaches. Of course, the vow of silence held strong. Giovanni had not turned to the anti-mafia police to further damn them. But his retaliation had brought so much heat he might as well had done so. Lorenzo was losing his grip on Palermo. He trusted no one. And many remained loyalists to the now dead Mancini’s. His life was shit. His empire on shaky ground. And his woman and child remained missing.
That was all about to change.
He glanced to the signage above him and then headed south through Flughafen. His flight had been delayed. Any loss of time at this moment was costly. His baby girl would be born soon. A slight smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He had waited and waited on opening the little envelope that revealed the gender of their child. And now that he knew the truth, many truths, he couldn’t stop feeling the pride that came with fatherhood.
Once he walked through the crowded end of the terminal he spotted his men. Josef was the closest to him now. An Australian, Josef had left it all behind to move to Armenia with his family and soon fell into business with Vladik and Tahvo Yeremain. They were the head of the snake and Alik was more like the tail. So, when Josef arrived in Sicily Lorenzo knew the Akhperutyuns took his position seriously. He was his own man. A boss. And with Alik in America for the past several weeks handling their delicate business affairs with the gun smugglers, Josef was the additional muscle Lorenzo had to hold on to what he’d stolen from the Mancini’s.
“You miss your flight or something? We’ve been waiting for three hours,” Josef said.
“Three? Felt much longer than that.” Lorenzo tossed his bag to one of the men shadowing Josef. “Fucking pilot was useless. Spent more time on the runway than in the air.”
“Why?”
“Customs wanted to delay us because of his flight plan. And that meant delaying me. Nothing to worry about. I handled it.”
“You anxious?” Josef asked.
“I was born anxious,” Lorenzo smiled.
It was lucky for Lorenzo that the Mancini’s had wealth that wasn’t washed in cosa nostra’s blood. The legitimate businesses were now his. Catalina fought him on nothing. She had recovered from her womanly sickness. And now that the Marissa woman was gone Catalina did nothing but plan for the birth of the demon seed she carried. He thought Catalina’s madness had convinced her Armando was her true love. Lorenzo chuckled often over her devotion and frequent proclamations of love for the dead Don. He’d love to rub it in Dominic and Giovanni’s faces.
“I got a call from Vladik. It appears his granddaughter Marissa has not been heard from since she left Sicily. Is Catalina sure she returned to Armenia?”
“Catalina? Not sure. I think one of the servants said Marissa returned to Armenia. I remember the women discussing it.”
“Maybe you could call Catalina and confirm. Just to be sure of her destination. It’s been over a month.” Josef said. “He fears she might have tried to return to Las Vegas.”
“Not my problem.”
“Just thought you should know that Vladik inquired. He is the boss of all bosses.”
Lorenzo kept walking. He noticed how some of the armed officers were focused on him and his entourage. He tried to seem casual, but his guard was up. He was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he was at his car. Nothing could come between him and his mission.
The car door was opened for him. He eased inside.
“Marissa is known to take off for a time and then show up later. She and her brother are a strange breed. Tahvo’s craziness has rubbed off on them. Kids never had a chance.” Josef was seated next to him. He handed a folder to Lorenzo. Inside were pictures after pictures of Dr. Sera Marchetti. She had abscon
ded from Italy almost two months ago. She walked away from her practice, her family, everything. Christmas day Marietta had shouted the doctor’s name before the communication was cut off. His wife had given him very critical clues. She was in a hospital, she was in Africa, she was being held hostage in Africa. And Lorenzo knew how Giovanni managed it. This cunt doctor had helped him.
“Even if your wife was taken to Tanzania, do you really think that Giovanni would leave her there now that you know this?” Josef asked.
“Africa is a huge continent. Why would Giovanni bother to move her when she is so close to delivery? And if he has moved her wouldn’t the doctor know her next destination?”
“Not if she’s running from Giovanni too.”
“I know how Gio works. Trust me,” Lorenzo dismissed the concern. He paused on one picture and frowned. Lorenzo studied it.
“What? What is it?” Josef asked.
“When I first met this doctor, I thought it strange that she looked so much like... someone I once knew.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter who. She looks like her. Even her hair color. Strange.”
“In your world there are no coincidences. So, I’ll ask you again. Who was this woman she reminded you of? It could be important.”
“She’s an old girlfriend; the best-friend to Giovanni’s wife.”
“So this one on the picture is a doppelgänger or family member?”
“I don’t know. She could be her cousin, they look so much alike. Fabiana was Italian, from America. Her mother... I think her family had either died or abandoned her. I can’t remember Fabiana’s story, she was killed... before I really knew her.”
“You think this woman is related to her?”
“If she is, that would explain her running from Giovanni. She got close to his wife, and mine. Where is the doctor now?”
“Home. She hasn’t left her home all day. I got two of your men sitting on her.”
