Amoroso
Page 1
AMOROSO
ALFONZO
VOLUME XVI
Copyright © 2014 S.W. Frank
**All Rights Reserved
Paperback Edition
First Printing
Printed by Createspace, USA
S.W. Frank Publishing, U.S.A
ISBN-13: 978-1505723557
ISBN-10: 1505723558
**No parts of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system in any form without prior written permission of the author. Piracy of the book is a crime. Any sites and or persons distributing unauthorized copies are subject to legal action in accordance with Copyright infringement and Piracy laws. Alfonzo detests thieves and liars, he also believes in Karma. Laws, cannot govern a person’s character, self-governance or lack thereof when nobody watches is a reflection of the soul.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and events portrayed in this story are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Graphic images are for illustrative purposes only.
THE ALFONZO SERIES
♠
ALFONZO: Volume I
ASCENSION: Alfonzo Volume II
ANARCHY: Alfonzo Volume III
ATONEMENT: Alfonzo Volume IV
AWAKENING: Alfonzo Volume V
ANNIHILATION: Alfonzo Volume VI
AFTERMATH: Alfonzo Volume VII
AFFIRMATION: Alfonzo Volume VIII
ASSOCIATES: Alfonzo Volume IX
ANIMUS: Alfonzo Volume X
ADVERSARY: Alfonzo Volume XI
AVARICE: Alfonzo Volume XII
AFFLICTION: Alfonzo Volume XIII
ARMORED: Alfonzo Volume XIV
ATAVUS: Alfonzo Volume XV
“Life is the flower of which love is the honey.”
– Victor Hugo
“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.”
-Nietzsche
“Crime is not pretty, only fashionably dressed.”
-S.W. Frank
Acknowledgments
Thank you friends and fans of Alfonzo for supporting and enjoying the stories. Congratulations Christi Patton, your dishes are noted in a scene. Those who encourage and recommend the saga and my other works on social networks, reviews and blogs, you are beautiful and I am immensely grateful. Thanks JC for your smiles and cheerful anecdotes when the universe is tilted on madness because it always seems to come at the perfect time. And to my family, I’m giving you more hugs in words, especially my lovably awesome BK and C huggers that shared in an indescribable loss. Through faith and having many joyous blessings, I am grateful for your unconditional love. You are the BK and C mainstays that began and remain on every journey and serve as a testament to the loving power of the Almighty.
-Amoroso!
S.W. Frank
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Glossary
Author Commentary
AMOROSO
Origin: Italian, from Medieval Latin amorosus
Adverb & adjective
1. Loving, amorous, affectionate
2. (Classical Music) especially as a direction to be played in a loving or tender manner
“The world is truly round and seems to start and end with those we love.”
-Nelson Mandela
Prologue
“I’m not sure about this. What if your family believes I am not good for you ‘Enzo?”
A stripper is an honorable profession, killing and smuggling isn’t, Lorenzo Cuvato mused before switching gears. The Range Rover rolled across the road, and he turned hard on the steering wheel to make a sharp right as he smoked and then continued for several kilometers until he came to an abrupt halt. He parked outside an iron and brick gate, a nice stroll away from a modest estate.
Beyond the gate is where Lorenzo’s family gathered. Sitting atop mounds of luscious green is the house where as a child he played with his trains and drove his Pappoús crazy with the racket. Then one day, Vincenzo visited and the joy inside as they pretended to be cops catching the robbers suddenly resonated. There are many good memories of his childhood. Those of Vincenzo were strong, although he rarely visited.
His lip curled, highlighting the laceration on the upper corner of his mouth that gave his handsomely rugged features additional character.
The smile had a sneer effect due to the cut. He’d received the injury during a family vacation in Hawaii. The desire to impress a flirtatious beauty led him to the edge of a cliff with a group of her friends. He’d been led to believe she liked him and cliff diving with the locals was his initiation into their inner circle. When she urged him on, he acquiesced to impress the beauty.
However, what does a thirteen year-old with raging hormones understand about what girls want or the essence of real beauty, anyway? The girl hadn’t been impressed with visiting a boy in a hospital when he broke his leg being a fool and could have died showing off for the flighty girl that didn’t visit once. His sister told him the next day she latched on to another attractive boy that recently arrived at the resort. The newcomer possessed the ability to walk.
The incident occurred many moons ago and he hadn’t gone out of his way to impress a girl ever since, being Lorenzo was enough. He had plenty of attention from troublesome women later, though. Women often had demands. Some wanted more of his affection or promises he’d quit carousing and drinking. At some point they realized he refused to change and they
bailed.
He toked hard on the cigarette, certain his parents wouldn’t have a problem with his choice of a future wife, however his cantankerous Pappoús might not approve of the dress or Thalia’s line of work.
Lorenzo chucked the cigarette out of the window, depressed a lever and the glass whizzed closed. He spun toward his fiancée decked out in a short minidress. The leather high heel boots accentuated her shapely legs. He appreciated her attempt to impress his parents. However, her vivacious personality would win them over.
In comparison to her skimpier clothes, what she wore was modest, but equally arousing.
When she emerged from the bedroom in that outfit, he delayed their departure with an obligatory compliment, one that had her draped over the sofa. The sparkly G-string aided in the deliverance of his penile praise. Those fluid glides with his hard skin, and the tight silk plucking his protruding veins reminded him of human violins. Simply recalling the event elicited an arousal.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing his crotch.
The memory of their bodies as erotic string instruments, and the orgasmic jubilance that concluded with confetti ejaculations had him hard.
“Tha s ‘agapó, ómorfi kopéla, ” Lorenzo stated in Greek.
“’Enzo English –English!” She urged.
“I said they will love you, beautiful lady,” Lorenzo translated. “Besides, I am marrying with my heart and your experience with poles will keep me engaged for life!”
“You are incorrigible Lorenzo Cuvato,” Thalia replied in the common language they both understood, aside from sex. “I only strip for you now love.” She reminded her fiancé.
Lorenzo scoffed as he willed his dick to sit. “You say this for my dick tips.”
“That is true,” she answered and then laughed in the infectious way he adored. She reached in the cup holder where she placed the breath mints, took one between her fingers and inserted it into his mouth. “You need this.”
He sucked her fingers and she pulled her shiny nails free from his wet mouth with a giggle.
“I do?” He grinned.
“And beatings.”
Lorenzo’s smile broadened when he glanced at the home beyond the wrought iron and bricks. Everybody was there to celebrate his Pappoús 84th birthday. His sister had arrived his mama informed Lorenzo when she called hours ago.
The Tsiakrokis’ and other close friends were also inside to partake in the festivity. He had not seen Grigori Tsiakrokis in two years. It would be nice to have a private talk with the man he deemed his surrogate Uncle, perhaps he’d also enquire about Vincenzo.
He brightened; he had good news to share with family. The current gathering seemed the perfect time. After all, they were always wondering when he’d settle down. Apparently, over thirty without children or married is a serious matter that required resolution, in their eyes. They’re Greek –besides Cuvato’s procreate.
Lorenzo caressed her knee before leaning across the armrest to give her a reassuring kiss. The heavy chain dangled out of his shirt, which she gripped as they exchanged spit. He never removed that necklace; he shared the reason during a romantic night stroll in Cannes. Lorenzo believed the gift was a lucky trinket from a guy who cheated death.
Lorenzo detached. The ever-present devilish gleam in his eye harbored naughty secrets. The military length cut on a civilian, and the dark oval tribal tat on the left side of his neck along with one concealed behind pants fit right in with Lorenzo’s multifarious personality. She found him interesting, unpredictable and charming. She loved him dearly.
Thalia buttoned her fiancé’s shirt in a motherly fashion. “We must look presentable. You do not want your mama to suspect we were not stuck in traffic, do you?”
Lorenzo’s lopsided grin deepened the indentation on his mouth. “She accepts my quirks.”
“Quirks are not synonymous with lies,” she said.
Thalia was from Istanbul. She claimed to love his thick accent when speaking English, but truth is he adored hers.
“True, but she accepts I lie, too.”
“That is a lie, no mama wants a liar child.”
“Eh, sexy one, have you not noticed I am not a child?" He said with a wry grin. Thalia’s many attributes were bundled into a luscious figure and she was also witty.
Thalia chuckled. “But, you are a big child, your behavior is a huge cry for attention.” She cleaned the lipstick from his mouth with her thumb. “Now you are a proper son for mama.”
“Nothing is proper about me or my family.” He reached for the handle. In time he planned to disclose his family were professional smugglers –after they were married. “Ready love?”
Thalia exhaled. “Ready.”
Lorenzo exited the SUV, inserted the key in the pocket of his leather jacket and tucked in his shirt, readjusting the bulk at his spine; discreetly fingering the locking mechanism to ensure the safety was on.
His fiancée got out, waited on the curb, smoothing imaginary wrinkles again as he rounded the vehicle. “Maybe, I should have worn a longer dress,” she said nervously.
The air held a chill he noticed, and Thalia’s anxiety was uncharacteristic of the easy-going woman.
“You look delicious!” he replied reassuringly, and then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side for warmth. “Stop worrying Thalia,” he placated as they strolled through the gate. “They will not judge your attire, instead they will see our love for each other.”
“We do not have a gift. Aye!”
Lorenzo laughed. The heavy bass to his voice, tats and imposing stature often intimidated people. However, to his family and friends he was just ‘Enzo, the boy with a penchant for trouble and a soft spot for family. “Seeing me happy is a gift they will appreciate most. Do not worry…Thalia.”
They walked the long driveway, passing late model vehicles, black, silver and a standout red Porsche he figured could only belong to his flashy cousin.
A persistent honk demanded Lorenzo’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder looking for intermittent flashes of light from his vehicle, thinking he might’ve hit the alarm button. Instead he noticed high beams from a car parked in the shadows in the corner of the property.
The apprehension that followed elicited an increase in pulse as he swiveled at the sound of the door to his parent’s home bang open. Initially, he thought a relative emerged, that is until he spotted the strap and shine of a nozzle of a high-powered weapon held by a male he didn’t recognize.
Thalia’s attention focused on her hemline. They had yet to clear the remaining car when the gunman spotted the couple, turning the assault weapon in their direction.
How fast joy flees, Lorenzo reflected. Earlier he had laughed, now his limbs reacted to a threat. One hand shoved Thalia to the ground; the other reversed the safety lock on the steel yanked free from his waist.
“Stay there love!” he exclaimed.
The leaden Sig became an extension of his arm when he ducked right before bullets flew overhead.
In a defensive stance, prone on slate, seasoned by practice and a focus that shuts out panic, Lorenzo didn’t think past the moment of family or Thalia near his feet. He answered the attacker, sending him a heated reply, hoping he caught the metal with his skin.
Lorenzo peered around the wheel; saw the man cutting across the grass toward the car.
Lorenzo’s feet were active. He ran, jacket swinging toward the door.
The rapid shots in pursuit of a shadow burst the Porsche window and the alarm blared in manic shrieks.
Lorenzo dove to the grass, shooting at the fleeing figure. The man fell, quickly stood and limped to the getaway car. Lorenzo was on his feet again, scampering to the door when more shots rang out.
Hot metal tore across his chest. The thick gold chain swung, chasing after the projectile that forced it from concealment. His flesh burned in several places, or maybe it was just one. He’d gone
to the ground on his back, slamming against concrete and let out a groan at the force of the impact. Then the squeal of tires broadcast the shooter’s exit.
“Dammit!” Lorenzo growled as he kicked his legs to stand, aware of his burning limbs.
His arm went limp; the gun in his hand had gained weight somehow. He glanced to where he left Thalia before rushing to the open door of his home; his family had now become the center of focus.
His mind traveled thousands of kilometers per second. If he had access to an instant replay video, he’d realize his thoughts raced and not his feet. Slow motion, uncoordinated shuffles of a wounded man, and a person stumbling across the threshold bleeding profusely is what he’d view.
The audio would have festive music, completely inappropriate to the horrific scene that welcomed an injured ‘Enzo home. Red wine floors and bodies as carpet is an awful greeting.
The gun tugged Lorenzo to the floor, coaxing him to release the load. A sharp grunt of wicked pleasure occurred that he hit the sonovabitch.
Lorenzo slumped over, trying to focus, scanning faces, choking with silent sobs. His sister and mother lay near the entry, a broken wine glass near his sister’s hand. He could picture her boring their mother with her talk of meteorology. She planned to go into broadcasting, waving her hand in front of a green screen with graphics depicting weather patterns.
“Ugh!” He groaned in despair.
The fall to the floor was hard. His eyes blurred as he absorbed the carnage. The unmoving figures of the very young brought an involuntary convulsion of grief as he bled red tears.
He heard his name.
“En-zo.”
He was surprised he heard. The voice was nearly inaudible, being overpowered by the tempo beating at the walls. He fought the numbness to roll over to view Grigori crawling across the floor in blood.
A home is not a war zone, however today that is what it had become.
Grigori slumped beside Lorenzo; shoved something in his pocket and in a raspy voice croaked. “Warn…Don.... Al-fon-zo…. the…Armenian hit.”
Grigori’s hand lifted, blood dripped on Lorenzo’s shirt. A finger had been severed. Then Grigori’s hand dropped heavily onto Lorenzo’s chest atop the gold links. Liquid pools seeped into Lorenzo’s skin and he blacked out thinking he had drowned.
Chapter 1