by Emma Nichols
She itched to go back to the Riverside and back to working under Maria’s protection. The surface of her skin prickled at letting Antonio down so soon after starting work there. Then a surge of anger flared within her and fuelled her justifications for deserting Maria. Vindication didn’t make her feel any better and dejection resonated through the story she’d fabricated in her mind. “Maria has betrayed me and lied to me. Is that love?”
Roberto shook his head. “She tried to protect you. You know this business well enough. The less you know, the safer you are.”
She stood in silence. He was right.
“Simone.”
She looked at him as every ounce of energy leached from her and lowered her head.
“Maria loves you. She told me herself.”
A silent gasp jabbed her. She lifted her head and saw frustration behind Roberto’s half-closed eyes, and the walls around her heart crumbled.
The exposure left her feeling raw and weak and struggling to process what she had done. Maria hadn’t betrayed her. Maria hadn’t even come close to being dishonourable. On the contrary, Simone had felt adored and respected by her, coveted in a way that she had never experienced before. She had felt safe in Maria’s arms, safe in her presence, and safe just knowing Maria was in her life.
She had trusted Maria.
She had no sound reason not to trust Maria.
I’m an idiot.
She saw her own disappointment reflected in Roberto’s eyes as he took a pace backwards and shook his head at her. She hesitated to speak, and he turned away and walked to the door. Fire burned with the tension in her throat. She swallowed hard, and it throbbed fiercely.
“Do what you like. But I’m staying in this job, and nothing you say is going to stop me. If you had any sense, you’d go back to Maria now. She made you happy, and she’ll keep you safe. That’s more than anyone here can promise you.” He closed the door quietly behind him.
Simone walked to the window and watched him ride down the street. It wasn’t her place to fret about where he might be going or what he might be doing, but that didn’t stop her worrying. At nineteen, he was more of a man than many men she knew, and yet he was still a kid to her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
He had always been street smart. He had an instinct to know which relationships to forge and which to avoid…unlike her. She couldn’t deny it; his wit had served him well. It still did. And now, she needed to let him fly.
He was right about her taking the offer of support from Patrina, though she hadn’t considered that Patrina had bought their silence. But it turned out that was exactly what Patrina had done, and Simone had accepted the deal.
She went to the kitchen and made a coffee. The aroma elicited memories of being at the breakfast bar watching Maria as she prepared food, setting out biscuits for the dog, and tending the orchids on the window ledge.
And then, that dreadful night when she had walked out after seeing Roberto interacting with the men at the square and with Maria outside the DIA. She’d thought about nothing else in the days and nights since. The hours spent moving around the house, fretting, a little too afraid to venture to the plaza now that Angelo wasn’t looking out for her, and then tossing and turning her way through the sleepless nights that haunted her.
She rubbed her forehead. Had she known deep down about her father’s involvement with Stefano? She had wanted to believe her school fees had been paid with clean money, earned fairly and without detriment to another human being, but Roberto’s words tolled bells that she could no longer deny. Maybe the fear that she had carried with her since the death of her family had been too much of a reminder that she too was like the Amatos. She had deceived herself. Their money was tainted with blood, and she had not once declined the inflated salary that Patrina had paid her. She was more like them than she dared imagine and certainly more like them than Maria.
What have I done?
Maria was different.
Maria cared.
Maria’s protection had given her the space to be herself. She had travelled with Maria and seen the beauty that surrounded her through new eyes and experienced the purest sense of awe and joy. Maria’s hand had felt strong and reassuring in hers as they had ventured down the cobbled village streets, and her lips had tasted sweet when they kissed after drinking cocktails and eating tapas. The evening sun had spilled reds and oranges from behind the snow-capped mountains and sparkled in Maria’s eyes, and they had danced to music in the street. With Maria, she had lived.
She sipped her drink. Roberto’s statement nursed her conscience and eased the pressure in her head. “She loves you and you love her, and that’s all that matters.”
The sensation of Maria’s soft tender mouth exploring her became tangible, and she licked her lips. Her heart raced, and a shudder spiralled
swiftly down her spine. She bit her lip as the tingling lifted the small hairs on the surface of her skin.
Love is all that matters.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. Harsh, prickly heat crawled inside her for the accusations she had levied at Maria in her fit of anger. She’d ignored Maria’s tears after attacking her integrity, and she had walked out on Maria without giving her a chance. She had failed Maria. She had broken Maria’s heart. And in doing so, she’d eradicated the only joyful thing from her life.
She shook her head. Just thinking about Maria made her ache with longing. She needed to talk to Maria and make things right between them.
She would go back to working at the Riverside, and they would get back to the life they had started to create. The future they might share together was still within reach. Here, the Pyrenees, wherever Maria wanted to go, she would be there at Maria’s side.
35.
Simone stepped out of the taxi at the bottom of the road and walked quickly to the gated entrance to the villa. She stood at the security keypad and looked into the camera, fire and ice dancing in her stomach at the thought that Maria might be looking back at her. She wanted to be with Maria so badly…but what if Maria rejected her? Her trembling fingers clumsily pressed the buttons. She squeezed through the smallest gap as the gates started to open and ran up the pathway. She looked at the villa suspended in a soft haze behind which the night sky became intangibly distant and dark. Waves of tingling swept over her. One moment, she was giddy with excitement and in the next, worry took hold. Her head was spinning. Her heart thundered. She was stalling.
She loved the way the bright slithers of light from inside reached out, streaked across the veranda, and spilled into wider path onto the beach.
Late, in the blackness of night, the absence of light gave an eerie feel to the cove. She remembered the evenings they shared, strolling along the beach, chasing through the shallow water, and laughing together. She recalled the cool sand on her feet and then her shoulders as they lay together, staring up at thousands of stars. She’d missed Maria’s warmth close to her, the softness of her kisses, and the feel of her as she covered her and moved inside her. With a dry mouth, and trembling from her vivid recollections, she approached the front door.
Maria would have already answered the door if she had seen her on the CCTV. She peeked through the window. With no signs of Maria or Pesto, she wandered around to the side of the villa where the boxing bag cast a motionless shadow on the slatted wood. She gazed along the beach, nightfall and the light at her back restricting her visibility, and the emptiness caused her heart to thunder harder.
She stepped onto the veranda and looked through the window into the kitchen and living room. She opened the door and warmth brushed her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, comforted instantly by the familiar feeling the villa had imprinted on her. The memory of standing there, with her suitcase at her side, flashed into her awareness and then the scent of
Maria came strongly to her. She opened her eyes, looked directly into Maria’s, and gasped.
“Simone.”
Simone jerked her hand to cover her mo
uth. “I…” Words wouldn’t come.
Pesto’s toes clipped the floor as he wandered between them and settled into his bed.
The bathrobe hung freely from Maria’s shoulders and revealed her beauty within its opening as she rubbed her hair with a small towel.
Simone tried to avoid staring at her, but her eyes were drawn to the rise and fall of her chest, and the taut muscles across her stomach. Her eyes drifted lower, and she swallowed. She looked into Maria’s eyes.
Maria closed the robe around herself and secured the belt around her waist. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sorry. I let myself in. I thought. The CCTV.” Words tumbled from Simone.
Maria rubbed the back of her neck with the towel. Her dark eyes shone as she smiled. “I was just taking a shower.”
“Yes.” Simone tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and the words hard to form. “I came to apologise.”
Maria’s breath seemed to catch, and she looked away before turning and walking into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
Simone nodded.
“Coffee? Wine?”
Simone cleared her throat. “Wine would be nice.”
Maria poured Simone a glass of wine and handed it to her.
Simone frowned. She took Maria’s hand and studied the yellow bruising around Maria’s knuckles that extended in patches across her hand and up her wrist. She winced, and Simone looked at her with wide eyes.
“You’re hurt?”
Maria shook her head. “Embarrassed more than hurt. I boxed in anger. One should never box in anger.” She squeezed Simone’s hand and smiled. “I was angry with myself.”
Simone lowered her head. “Me too.” She left the warmth of Maria’s touch, picked up her glass, and sipped her drink. “I’m so sorry about the things I said.”
Maria went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, removed the top, and took a sip. She walked back to Simone and reached up to stroke Simone’s face. She brushed a thumb across her lips.
“I’m sorry about the things I didn’t say.”
Simone shuddered at the tenderness and closed her eyes to the image of Maria’s mouth pressed to hers. She moaned as she kissed Maria’s thumb and held the palm of Maria’s hand to her cheek. The warmth and soapy scent of Maria became potent, and the yielding pressure as Maria closed against her, stole her breath. She opened her eyes as Maria’s mouth claimed hers. She fell into the kiss, clashing teeth with Maria then jerked back and giggled with nervous relief.
Maria wrapped an arm around Simone’s waist, cradled her head to her chest, and placed soft kisses to the top of Simone’s head. She inhaled and moaned at the tingling at her scalp. She slipped her hand beneath Maria’s loose robe, and the unique scent of Maria came to her and quickened her pulse. She grazed her fingertips across Maria’s back. “I love you,” she whispered.
Maria squeezed her tighter. “You can’t stay here tonight.”
Simone felt the words jar in her chest. She took a deep breath, eased out of Maria’s arms, and looked into her eyes. “I understand.”
Maria sighed. She brushed her fingertips across Simone’s cheek and rested them on Simone’s lips. “I have work I need to do tonight.”
Simone lowered her head. The heaviness through which her world had just tumbled became dark and impossible to navigate with logical thought. Maria lifted Simone’s chin. She stared into her eyes for a long time, breathing slowly and deeply, and then smiled and her eyes turned a shade lighter.
“I love you.”
Simone’s focus shifted slowly from despair through recognition to hope. A sparkle appeared in Maria’s eyes, and her smile radiated love. The pounding in Simone’s chest expanded, and the quake that followed trembled through her hands, and her legs felt suddenly fragile beneath her.
Maria’s strong arm pulled Simone back into the warmth of her body and then she kissed her on the head.
“I will come and get you in the morning,” Maria said firmly. “We can go away and start a new life together. Spain, France, the US, Australia?
Wherever you want to go. We can talk about it tomorrow. I have some plans
in place already, but we can make our own arrangements. We can do anything you want, Simone. Sicily has no hold over me. Only you do.”
Simone lifted her head and locked eyes with Maria.
“Will you come with me, Simone?”
Simone smiled. “Yes.”
Maria shifted in focus, and her eyes became more distant. “You need to go home now. I have to work.”
Simone shivered with the chill that moved down her spine. “You’ll be safe?”
Maria blinked. “Of course.”
The trembling imploded within Simone, nausea sat low in her stomach, and dizziness claimed her mind. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Maria took Simone by the shoulders and forced her to look at her.
“Listen. I will be fine. You need to go home. I will come for you tomorrow.
Look at me, Simone. I need you to understand. You have to trust me.”
Simone looked at Maria, but her eyes wouldn’t register beyond the fear that squeezed the life out of her. “I understand,” she whispered.
“I’ll get Angelo to take you home.” She kissed Simone firmly on the lips.
Simone stood dazed as Maria moved around the villa. She turned her head and looked out over the beach and couldn’t stop the thought. What if this is the last time? When she looked back, Maria was stood in front of her, dressed in jeans, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue jacket that she knew concealed the butt-nosed Smith and Wesson 637. The thought that Maria might be intending to use the gun was fleeting, but the dark knowledge that Maria might murder someone tonight turned her stomach.
36.
The deck of the Bedda rocked gently, moored to the outer edge of the cove where the sea currents were more active. Maria could see to the horizon in all directions, though that distance was limited by the dark sky crowded with stars that crowned her and sprinkled shimmers of light onto the gentle waves below the boat. The crescent moon reflected the black depths of the sea where cargo ships edged along the horizon, a long way off in the distance. The sereneness wasn’t lost on her. It was settling. She turned to face the villa. Light beams danced on the water between the cruiser and the shore, and the small motorboat that had been pulled from the water reclined on the beach. On the cliff top adjacent to the shore, Giovanni watched her.
With the Smith and Wesson tucked at her side, the metal warm from the heat of her skin, she closed her jacket and placed her hands in her pockets. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply, slowed her heart, and focused her mind to prepare for what was to come. She had to trust Patrina, but she would do so with one eye on her movements. The small vessel appeared in her peripheral vision long before she opened her eyes fully and turned her head to watch the craft bounce across the water. Her heart thumped out a steady beat, and she took another deep breath, hoping to the fates that it wouldn’t be one of her last.
She walked to the edge of the Bedda as the speedboat moved alongside then jumped down and caught her balance before Patrina reached out.
Alessandro’s bulk dominated the cabin raised above the bow of the vessel. Behind the cabin were steps to the lower deck on which Maria stood. Breathing apparatus hung, clipped to the outer wall of the cabin, and a narrow ledge bounded the boat’s perimeter. More traditionally, the craft would be used for diving and fishing expeditions. It looked the part, should they be stopped by the authorities for any reason. Maria sat on the ledge at the rear of the boat where she could keep her eyes on her two hosts.
Patrina looked at Maria and smiled. The darkness cloaked a steel focus Maria knew sat behind the shine in her eyes.
“All set?”
Maria nodded her head. Her eyes drifted to the water as it sprayed up behind the low freeboard. The temptation to reach down and tickle the surface passed quickly, though the fleeting distraction helped. P
atrina walked the short distance across the deck and climbed up the steps to the cabin to talk to Alessandro.
Alessandro eased the craft slowly forwards and guided the boat out to sea. Patrina walked back up the boat and stood next to Maria. She gazed into the sky as if they were about to embark on a luxury night cruise with wine and canapes.
“Beautiful evening, bedda.”
Maria’s stomach twisted. She remained silent.
“Are you ready for this? I don’t want to get too far out to sea. Once this goes up,” she indicated to the craft, “the authorities will arrive quickly.”
She smiled. “He insists on keeping an eye on you, so I need to go and take the wheel.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Patrina’s word, but she had to trust her gut and that was telling her not to trust Alessandro to play ball fairly.
Patrina went back to the cabin, and Alessandro slowed the boat for her to take the helm. Maria stiffened her back as Alessandro walked towards her. The craft swayed under his bulk. Her skin crawled and something sharp stuck in her throat. She lifted her head and smiled then stood and looked down at him. “Good evening, Alessandro.”
He laughed, and ice trailed down her spine. His movements were uncoordinated, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was high…and drunk no doubt. He reached out, and she swatted his arm away. The Smith and Wesson jabbed at her side with the sharp movement.
He stumbled, pulled a gun from inside his belt, and shoved it in her face. “I need to fucking check you’re not carrying, bitch.”
Maria held up her hands and glanced towards Patrina.
Patrina stepped from the cabin. “Of course she’s carrying, Alessandro. We will need her help. Put the gun away.”
Alessandro glared at Maria and took a step back. “I don’t trust the bitch.”
His spit struck Maria in the face, and the stench of his breath curdled her stomach. She remained steadfast, watching him closely.
“It will be fine, Alessandro. Please,” Patrina said.
Alessandro glared in Patrina’s direction. “And I don’t fucking trust you, either.” He swung the weapon towards Patrina and then swiftly back to Maria. “You think I don’t know there’s no shipment?” His laugh had an acerbic quality that matched the wild look in his eyes. “You brought me here to kill me. Ha. You think I’m fucking stupid?” He pointed at his head as he spoke and swung the weapon like a pendulum between the two women.