by Ava Catori
* * *
18
Gino
Chiara and Sonny's house looked like a war zone. Pushing my way through the crowd, I reached the yellow tape. Sliding under the security line, I called out to one of the officers who was keeping people at bay.
"I'm Gino Simone," I told him. "This is my sister's home. She asked for me."
The officer held his palm out to me as he spoke to someone on the device strapped to his shoulder. A few crackling sounds later, he got the green light and let me in.
I made my way up the driveway. I stared at the gaping hole where the front door had been. I quickly examined the huge opening in the façade. I wondered what they’d used to drive through the wall. Whatever it was, it had enough force to push the double doors down. Sonny always joked that his house was like a medieval castle, an impregnable fort that could resist even category five hurricanes. Had they pushed their way in with a tank?
A police officer greeted me. "We've been expecting you. Your sister is locked in what seems to be a vaulted room. She says she’s not coming out until you tell her she's safe."
Looking at the dark track marks left on the floor of the foyer, the officer added, "Can't say I blame her. She must have had the scare of her life."
"She sounded way more than anxious when she called me," I admitted.
"Do you know what they came for? Can you see anything missing?" he asked.
"You mean aside from the entire front porch?" I answered. "Nah, I can't say I do."
On the walls still standing, all the paintings and the precious art my sister had collected over the years seemed untouched.
"So you're the family comedian," the man answered with a tone that showed was not amused.
"Yeah, you can say that." He understood I was stalling. I wasn’t going to tell him what this was about. Yet chances are, if he knew his stuff--and I had no reason to think he didn't--he probably guessed this was the latest episode of the turf war that raged since the Russians blew up Domenico Guarnieri. Fucking pricks.
My sister's room was a mess. Her beautiful dresser, an art déco masterpiece she paid an indecent amount of money for, had been smashed to pieces. Let alone, there were traces of blood on shattered mirror shards that dotted the room. A technician from the forensics lab was collecting evidence. With rubber gloves, she placed the tiny bits of broken mirror into plastic bags, then sealed them.
On seeing the blood, my heart raced. Whose blood was it? It better not be fucking Chiara’s blood. There’d be hell to pay if they harmed one hair on her body.
Before I was able to rush to the door of the panic room, which was actually Chiara's master bathroom and walk in closet, the officer who had accompanied me tilted his head in the direction of the technician. She answered his silent question.
"Yeah, it's good, you can open the door now."
In two seconds I was banging on the door, "Chiara, it's me. It's all good, you can come out now."
The door opened as soon as she heard my voice. My sister jumped into my arms. I held her for a minute to calm her nerves, and then gently pushed her an arm’s length away to examine her. Aside from a swollen cheekbone, she seemed unharmed.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She looked at me, her eyes wild and large from the panic that had parked inside her. "It was horrible, Gino. They took him. I’m okay. They never had a chance to lay a finger on me, I dashed out of the room as soon as I heard the noise."
"What about that?" the officer asked her, pointing to what would probably turn into a splendid shiner.
"Oh, that." She attempted a smile but winced. "I did this to myself as I rushed into the room."
The officer nodded with a dubious expression.
"I guess I got off easy considering what they've done to the room."
"They? Do you know who they were?" the officer asked.
Chiara glanced in my direction. I shook my head slightly to tell her how to answer.
"I have no clue. I was sleeping when I heard this ear-shattering noise," Chiara explained. "For a minute I even thought it was an earthquake. I felt the entire house shaking. When I heard the men's voices screaming, I rushed to my safe room."
"That's it?"
"Oh, I called 9-1-1 the second I was locked in safely. Then I called my brother and waited."
"I see," the officer said. "Anything more you can tell me about those men?"
"No, I'm sorry, I never saw them, I was locked up before they made it to my room."
"What about their language?"
Chiara hesitated and looked at me again. I nodded and asked, "Did they have an accent?"
"Well, I can't tell you what language they were speaking, but it wasn’t English, and it wasn’t Italian either."
After a few more question and an inspection of Chiara’s safe room, they let us go. An officer would remain planted by the door until a crew arrived to help close up the house.
Once in the car, Chiara called Gia to let her know she was okay and not to worry. While she spoke to her daughter, I reached out to Ryder to find out if one of his construction crews could come close down the house. If Chiara was right, the house shook and a structural evaluation would be required before she could move back in again, but that work would be taken care of later, for now just closing it down would be good enough.
Ryder promised he would send a crew right over and knowing that was taken care of, as soon of two of Sonny's men arrived to wait for the crew, I drove my sister--still yapping away with her daughter on the phone--to the family doctor. Someone had to take care of the nasty cut on her cheek.
"They just burst in the house," Chiara said on the phone. "No warning, no nothing. Your father ordered me to run and hide and I did. I left the door opened until the last minute waiting for him to come in, but he slammed it shut in my face."
Chiara paused while Gia interjected something.
"Yeah, I know. That's what I said, but no, he wouldn't hide, he said. According to him, they only wanted to talk."
Sonny was probably right in as much as his life was not immediately in danger, if they wanted to kill him, they would have blown up the entire house. Obviously, they had the man and the explosive power to do that. What they wanted was something else. To make him bend on one knee? Good luck with that one. Sonny was as easy to bend as a block of concrete. To convince us to give up a part of our territory? We couldn't possibly go that way, if we showed any sign of weakness they would destroy us. The only way to deal with these people was instant retaliation. I knew precisely what I needed to do. Thanks to my digging into their lives, I knew the eldest daughter of the top guy in their unit was a ballerina.
Just like Gia, the girl tried to run from our world. She’d taken her mother's maiden name as her stage name. Just like Gia, it hadn't been enough to mask her real identity.
I’d soon find out what kind of father the man was. If he didn't play by my rules, forget about her dancing, she would never walk again.
The real question was, what did I truly want?
A few months ago, I would have seen this situation as a real opportunity. Yeah, accidents happened. Sonny could vanish during negotiations and a truce would be reached anyway. One signed with me as the new Capo.
Up to only a few weeks ago, this was what I wanted most of all. My dream was to be at the helm. I was hungry for the power. Now I wondered why? Because for the first time, I had something to lose.
* * *
19
Isabella
Gia relayed messages as they came in. Her mother was safe with Gino, and they'd notify us when there was more information about her father. She started out strong, needing to be the tough girl, able to tackle the world, but the façade was wearing thing. She looked tired and broken. While I could offer kind words, I still barely knew her. Thankfully, Barbara seemed to have an impact as she tried to soothe her. Her mothering was apparent, as it transcended easily from a child to an adult.
My stomach tossed about like a small raft
on a big, stormy ocean. This life grew tiresome, and where most of the violence was hidden in the past as to not draw attention – these days it seemed everything was splashed for the entire world to see. And how odd, the family my parents had always fought was now considered part of our family. Two groups melded as one in a common effort to thwart yet another outside group. All those years between us, it’s like they no longer mattered. I didn't want to know what was happening, but either way, I didn't want to be a part of it.
The question was - could I walk away? I owed my father nothing after he betrayed me. The entire marriage was a sham. Gino, while he'd been patient and kind, and I liked the man more each day, was not the future I imagined.
"Isabella?" I jumped when Gia nudged me.
I shook out of the daze I'd been locked in, and looked at her. "I'm sorry, I think I zoned out."
She nodded, understanding. Gia handed me a glass of iced tea, and then set another on the table.
Barbara came behind her with a third glass and a plate with assorted crackers and cheese. "I'm going to check on Aiden and Brad. I'll be right back."
Gia and I sat in silence, staring ahead. I finally cleared my throat and thanked her for the tea, not sure what else to say.
"Sure, no problem," she answered.
Whatever connection we'd started to make, it wasn't enough to make me feel obligated to stay. And she was actually supportive when Barbara offered me the chance to work with them. Maybe reaching out, Gia and I could be friends, instead of two strangers related by marriage.
I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers beside my leg, like a schoolgirl thinking it would make a difference. Some things never changed. It was a silly gesture. As if my two fingers twisted together could change my fate in any way; and yet as a logical adult, I still crossed them out of habit.
"Do you think I could really stay in Ocean Crest and work here..." I rambled on. "I don't know what to do. This entire marriage ... my father ... My entire life is being jerked around as if I were a bee in a jar, unable to find my way out. I can't think clearly."
I spilled everything, like she cared. But maybe trusting her with my thoughts would open a door. I knew it was risky, her being Gino's niece, but as she tilted her head and looked at me, I saw something in her eyes. A woman that understood wanting to be in control of her life – not told what to do.
Barbara came back to join us, a smile across her lips. "They fell asleep. Brad is crashed out on a chair with his feet up on the ottoman, and Aiden is wrapped up in his arms. It was the sweetest thing. I'm sorry, don't let me interrupt you."
I smiled at the image.
Gia spoke. "You should join us. Isabella needs some advice. We need to talk about things she might be able to bring to the business, and her staying on in Ocean Crest."
Barbara looked at me and frowned as if trying to figure out something. "Do you need a place to stay?"
I smiled, I wanted to make it on my own, but it would be good to have friends to help start over. I nodded silently. Yeah, I needed a place to stay. I knew now there was no reason for me to stay married. I deserved, no, I owed it to myself, to make my own choices from now on.
"I've got just the place," she said thoughtfully. "Let's get through this chaos, and then we'll work out some arrangements."
Her generosity overwhelmed me.
"Thank you," I offered. It was all I had. I turned to Gia next. "And thanks for listening. I'm sorry to be the one to burden you when you already have so much to worry about."
Gia was quick to respond. "Don't apologize. If I get to focus on your issues, I don't have to think about my own."
It would be an exhausting and long night, and we weren't sure how much time we’d be locked here. Would it be a couple days, or only a couple more hours?
* * *
20
Gino
After getting Chiara patched up, the first order of business was to stash her away. I drove her to my getaway place. It was a tiny studio in a high security building on the other side of town.
"I never knew about this place," she said, dropping her bag on the large bed which occupied most of the room. She walked to the kitchenette to check the contents of the fridge.
"That's the entire point of a hideaway," I answered watching her pull out a bottle of soda and search the cabinet for a glass.
"Is this where you were going to carry on extra marital activities?" Her tone was weird, and with her back to me I had no way of knowing if she was joking or dead serious.
"I had no intention of cheating on my wife," I said.
Without turning to look at me, she kept opening cabinet doors while asking, "Had? As in you’ve already changed your mind?"
The question took me by surprise. Most days Chiara was happy to act like a boring housewife whose biggest worry in life was what to cook for dinner, but every so often, usually when things got rough, she became a totally different woman. Even though she still had her back to me, I knew it was that no nonsense woman who stood there. Chiara poured some of my best scotch into her soda. I couldn't help but wince at the waste of the fifty-year-old liquor.
When it came to Isabella, I didn’t bother hiding my regrets. "I don't think I have a wife.”
Chiara jolted and spun around. She raised inquisitive brows begging for a more complete answer.
"Do you know why she married me?" I asked.
"Because we put the necessary pressure on her father," she stated.
"Yeah, there's that," I admitted. "But what I meant was the reason why she did what her father asked."
Chiara shook her head.
Every time I thought of it, I seethed with anger. "Because the bastard told her that we’d kill him if he didn't."
My sister shrugged as if she wasn’t surprised.
I was stunned. "You knew?"
"Well, I guessed that much. Dante is the lowest life form the Guarnieris have produced so far. I'm not saying that Domenico was a decent human being, hell no, he was an evil man, but still there were things he’d never have agreed to. He protected his family. He never would have sold his daughter." Chiara took a gulp of her mixture and walked to the bed. After pulling back the bedspread, she checked the sheets.
"It's clean, no one’s ever slept here before," I told her.
Chiara kicked off her shoes and settled on the bed. She looked at me with a new curiosity as she piled two pillows together and turned on the bedside lamp. "How did she find out? No, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess ... an idiot told her and that idiot was you."
I snorted. She was right, I was probably an idiot, but I had never taken a woman against her will and if I had slept with Isabella while letting her believe I was holding a gun to her father's head that would have been nothing less than rape. Well, that's how I saw it anyway.
"And now that she knows, you think she's going to run?"
"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure of it. There's one thing she made very clear. She doesn't want to be a mobster's wife."
"That girl is smarter than I thought," Chiara said. She walked to the window to pulled the curtains shut. "So I guess now you have a choice to make."
I frowned trying to understand what she meant.
"You need to decide if what you really want is to be part of the mob or if you'd rather be her husband."
I laughed. If only it was so easy.
Even if I had wanted to, I could never leave the family. I knew too much. Way too much. I knew where many bodies were buried and I knew where money was stashed away. There was only one way out. That was in a box, and all things considered, I thought I was way too young to die.
As if reading my mind, Chiara said, "If you think you don't have a choice, you're not thinking straight."
Confusion spread across on my face.
She shook her finger at me as if scolding a child. "I'm going to drink more of your expensive scotch while you go out and do what needs to be done to get my husband back."
I nodded and watched as she pulled a large tee s
hirt from her bag.
She continued. "When you both return, he'll owe you. Sonny hates being in someone's debt, and he'll probably say something like 'Whatever you want, son, you name it and it's yours.'"
I smiled. She did a great imitation of her husband. I could picture him using those exact words.
She wasn’t finished. "That's when you ask for your freedom. But that's only if you want her bad enough, and that's something I can't decide for you ..."
She continued talking while walking to the bathroom, but the words didn't register anymore. The only thing I could hear were the words Isabella had whispered as she fell asleep in my arms: "I could learn to love you, if you did anything else..."
I shrugged and chased away the crazy idea my sister planted in my head. No need to put the carriage before the horse. The first order of business was getting Sonny back, and preferably in one piece. This was not about climbing the ranks. This was protecting our entire organization.
To do that, I had to grab the pretty ballerina and see how attached her father was to his daughter. Hopefully he would be a better human than Dante.
* * *
21
Isabella
Everything was a blur. The way it started, the way it ended, and how we were camped out waiting to hear that everybody was safe and Gia's father was out of harm's way – for now. Only, I knew once this crisis ended, there would always be another.
I wondered how the other half lived: the families that went to soccer matches, took dance classes, and had normal dinners without crime bosses. I pictured everyone smiling, soft lighting, and gentle laughter. Nobody was afraid. Nobody was tense. Nobody wished they were born into another family.
I decided when this was all over, I’d file for divorce. Now that the truth was out, there was no reason to stay. I'd start over and do things my way; nobody would make decisions for me anymore.