by S. W. Frank
The girl moaned as he rolled her over. She looked like shit.
“Alfonzo…thank God…thank God it’s you.” She murmured.
His finger slackened from the trigger. The girl was alive!
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Alberti sat in a chair beside Luzo’s bed. The week of waiting began to make him weary. His old friend was mere skin and bones. The specialist gave Luzo a few more days. Many of his organs ceased to function, his respiratory system compromised, he now required continuous oxygen.
“Your divorce is final.”
“Blessed news,” Luzo feebly replied. He attempted to lift his head, however the effort was taxing on the frail limbs and he lay still.
Alberti did not assist, Luzo was a proud man despite the debilitating disease instead he lit a cigar and inhaled the rich Cuban flavor of tobacco. He watched Luzo drift in and out of sleep. He thought of the good old days when he and Luzo were carefree young men with great ambitions. They’d achieved wealth, power and respect.
Luzo lived a full life. Yes, Luzo had countless affairs with women who were influenced by his position. He seldom spoke of her, the one girl Maria but Alberti was aware of the confines of his heart. Luzo loved Maria and was enamored with her, but Gina’s cunning clouded his senses. Power and revenge were Luzo’s aphrodisiac and Gina exploited this insatiable despotism until ultimately when he realized the mastery of her deception it was too late.
In the final stages of Luzo’s life, he laid there helpless. The former formidable and handsomest man in Europe was beaten by an enemy that attacked from within. No power or money could cure him in these final hours. He could have had Maria at his bedside instead of an old man with little temperance for a lingering death. He savored the warm taste of the cigar, wondering whether his last days would be a tale of regrets, like that of Luzo.
A nurse peered through the door, “Sir, there’s no smoking, we do have rules.”
Alberti smiled politely until the door closed then took another long drag from the cigar.
“Let me have one of those,” came the feeble voice.
Alberti removed a cigar from the humidor, lit it and passed it to his friend.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good cigar,” the dying man said.
Luzo removed the nasal cannula.
“Yes my friend.” Alberti agreed. Aware this may be their last moment together.
“We have enjoyed life, yes?”
Alberti wondered what that nosy nurse would say if she caught Luzo smoking in bed near an oxygen canister. “Certainly, we have old friend.”
“And my son is safe?”
“Very safe.”
“We’ve kept secrets too long, eh?”
“For a reason, yes.”
“When the time comes you will tell him the truth about you?”
“When it comes, he will know, but for now its best he thinks of me as he does, your closest friend.”
“I am going to meet the devil, eh?”
Alberti smiled, “I will be there alongside you in time. We will sit by the raging fires and exchange stories of our wicked deeds with father.”
Luzo nodded, “Carlo was wise in his actions long ago. You are the best of us, Giuseppe.”
“And you are the heart of us, three, Salvatore.” Alberti blew out a cloud of smoke. “I will always know you as friend, because you have been this to me and that is far greater than the blood we share, fratello.”
“Sí, fratellino, friendship is greater.” Luzo smiled, the cigar was A quality. He took a long pull and allowed the smoke to fill his lungs then exhaled. He figured what the hell, he was dying anyway.
When Luzo later slept Alberti retired to his hotel for much needed rest. The day’s trials were exhaustive. He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, “Dear brother…forgive me.”
To protect the Palazzo heir, he’d enlisted the reluctant assistance of Luzo’s rival Dominick Fiorello.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Selange, hey wake-up.”
Selange’s drowsy eyes opened and she squinted trying to focus. She rubbed her eyes, “Alfonzo…you’re back. What happened?”
Alfonzo held out his cell phone, “There’s someone who wants to speak to you.”
It was practically the start of the morning, it must be urgent for him to wake her at this hour. She wondered when he arrived home because his chest was bare and he smelled of Irish Spring soap.
There was an unreadable expression on his face, “Come on sleepyhead, and take the phone.”
Sleep dissipated and she bolted upright to seize the small device.
“Hello?”
Alfonzo sat quietly listening to her shrieks of joy. He was exhausted but they found the girl. This singular act was nothing compared to the tears he unknowingly brought into her life. He pulled his legs up and lay there listening to the rapid speech of good friends reconnecting after a tragedy. Guilt overtook him and he frowned. He could not stay with her, he could not bring any more harm to the woman he loved.
Suddenly, she began to cry tears of joy mingled with relief after the conversation concluded. She lay across his chest weeping, “Thank you Alfonzo. Thank you for saving my friend.”
He didn’t see it that way. No, he wasn’t a savior or deliverer. He was the son of death, a dark cloud above her door. His life was decided before he was born. It’s as if fate’s shadowy presence claimed him the instant he drew breath outside the protection of his mother’s womb. The drug distribution business he abandoned was replaced by a life far worse. He was no longer his own man, fate decided it. Her cries quieted and she angled her head to view his face. His eyes were hooded, concealing his thoughts and his decision.
The tenderness of her touch as it caressed his chin brought sadness. She asked, “Are you okay. What’s wrong?”
He tried to freeze his heart again but the ice was slow to form and in response he replied, “Nothing. I like seeing you smile.”
Selange snuggled closer, “You scared me for a minute you were so distant.”
His mind was wired from the day’s events. He stared at the ceiling. Today confirmed he was Luzo’s son. The adrenalin pulsing through his veins exhilarated and frightened him. He looked lovingly at Selange, knowing once Luzo died he would leave.
Her arms slid up his body as she stretched, “I’m so happy Shanda‘s safe, you’re safe and…” She caressed his chest then placed wet kisses over the taut muscles.
The action caused his chest to flex and her smile broadened.
She admired his sculpted body, especially his perfect six-pack.
“And?” He enquired pensively.
She leaned over his chest, “And I love you so much it hurts.”
Alfonzo closed his eyes from the weight of his emotional pain as she explored his body with her lips and tongue. He did not intervene, instead he allowed the bold caresses and succulent kisses to his flesh because it signified life. Internally, he died each time he thought of letting her go. The overwhelming sadness gave way to ravenous hunger. If he were to do this, then he’d love her, taste her, adore her and take the essence of her with him to the grave of hell.
He seized her beneath the arms and rolled over her then hiked the sheer negligee up and penetrated deep. He swelled and throbbed in the folds of her moist flesh and grunt from pure release. Her spine arched like a graceful dancer and she clung to his neck sweeping him forward with the heel of her feet. Alfonzo’s body moved determinately. He repositioned her onto his thighs rocking with her, swaying in a primal dance, pushing into the goodness of her. His inaudible cry echoed from the deep. His sorrow for his intended action so great he spilled forth like an angry sea. He was dying, yes, duty killed him. His black soul was cast into the fires and incinerated for eternity.
She screamed his name repeatedly. Selange did not see his mind nor would she have understood his decision. She experienced only wonderful sensations shooting through her body and masculine hands pressing against her spine. S
he did not see the way his eyes traveled from her face to her body in order to remember this moment or the way his lips scorched her breasts like a man starved of nutrition.
Selange, did not recognize through the wondrous sensations there was sadness in the blue eyes. She’d never imagine her lover’s passionate lovemaking was his final farewell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The unmarked car’s occupants stuck out like bright bulbs in the predominately colored community. Freddie walked casually by the car puffing on a cigarette. Dressed in a baseball cap, jeans and sweatshirt he looked like an average resident. A middle-age Hispanic or light complexion black male.
It was four-thirty on a Saturday morning and the detectives were probably dreaming of their warm beds. One of them glanced his way then resumed reading a book without further scrutiny. Cops were arrogant and always underestimated the criminal psyche. In one fluid motion he slid the concealed gun from his waist, aimed and fired two muzzled shots through the glass striking each man in the head then walked briskly across the street toward the brownstone. The security system was disabled by cutting the electric feed to the house. With burglar stealth he cut out a section of glass then stuck his hand through the hole to unlock the window. He quietly slipped through and stood in the foyer. He listened for movement and heard the sounds of lovemaking coming from upstairs. He smiled; this was going to be too easy!
***
American television bored Nico; his brother on the other hand was fascinated by the actresses and their anorexic bodies. He preferred curvaceous women who could bare him sons and exchange philosophical banter.
“Where are you going?” His brother asked.
“Out.”
“To see your girlfriend?” Vincent teased.
Nico laced his shoes and stood. Holed-up in a hotel room with his brother wasn’t his idea of fun, especially when he hadn’t been with a woman in eight days!
“Call me if there’s news.”
Vincent tossed a pillow, “You definitely need some ass to loosen up!”
Nico caught the pillow and threw it hard at his brother’s face, “Shut up!”
His brother laughed and at his uptight twin brother. Nico was far too serious. Besides he knew all about the black attorney his brother visited when they flew into town. He also was aware of the boys, his nephews, Aaron and Darren.
Nico retrieved a cardigan sweater from the closet and headed out the door.
“Hey, wish my nephews a happy birthday Italian style.”
Nico stopped, “What?” His hand still clutched the doorknob.
His brother grinned mischievously, “I’m your brother, and don’t you think I already know about your little family?” Vincent said, “Why are you embarrassed about it?”
Nico shut the door and leaned his massive body against it. He loved his brother and knew he could trust him with his life; it was the organization he didn’t trust. “I’m not embarrassed, I only want to keep them safe,” he frowned, “what we do brings enemies and I don’t want anyone going after my family.”
Vincent understood perfectly, it’s the main reason he refused to have a family. When he needed female companionship, he paid a reputable escort service. He sat forward to address his brother, “Look, I’ve known about Ariana for years. I think it’s great.” He gave a lopsided grin, “She got any sisters?”
“I wouldn’t introduce you if she did, your manners suck.” Nico kidded.
“Get the fuck outta here then so I can get back to my porno movie.”
Nico chuckled, “Yeah I love you too, asshole.”
The early morning air felt crisp and sobering. Nico stopped to inhale its purity while scanning the block.
The FEDS watched from a black car across the street.
Nico strode with confidence to his rental car, climbed in and drove. He checked the rearview mirror as they followed. The car zipped down Seventy-Fourth Street taking a detour away from his intended destination onto Third Avenue in the opposite direction of Ariana’s apartment.
“Fucking parasites!” He fumed aloud.
Did they sleep at all?
He wanted female affection and feel Ariana’s soft body beneath him. He could taste the sweet softness of Ariana’s lips. Even, hear the boisterous laughter of his sons when they greeted him. He longed for normalcy, although the idea of shedding his habits permanently seemed a bit boring. He was born into this life, groomed for death. He and his brother were the best in the business. That too, could be a dangerous thing.
Damn, they were hugging his ass!
His hand steered in the direction of the Diaz’, of its own volition.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The nurse heard the monitor’s shrill beep and hurried into the room. Luzo Palazzo lay motionless with his head elevated in the hospital bed. The patient flat-lined. A Do Not Resuscitate Order required her to follow protocol.
She notified the attending physician, who came immediately checked the patient’s vital signs then declared Luzo Palazzo deceased at 5:15 a.m.
The nurse began the notification process as another nurse disconnected the intravenous tubes, oxygen and monitor.
She reached Mr. Alberti who sighed and said, “Thank you.”
Alberti frowned. Luzo was gone and it was his duty to do everything to help his son transition into a new role. He was uncertain if Alfonzo were ready for such responsibility but he was a good teacher. Once the boy matured then he’d divulge the entire history of the Giacanti family. For now, what he’d been told by Luzo was enough. Soon, Alberti would guide the wayward punk in the ways of the Giacanti’s –and when he was certain of the man, more truths would become unveiled.
He called Alfonzo. The cell rang.
***
The intruder listened to the incessant ringing. It was time to act. He slid quietly up the stairs hugging the wall in the direction of the sounds emanating from the room.
The sound of lovemaking ceased and a male voice said loudly, “Now, you expect me to come there now?”
Freddie hovered in the hallway beneath the recessed lights, listening.
Alfonzo hung-up the telephone and turned to Selange. Their lovemaking interrupted by Alberti’s call.
“Is something wrong?”
His eyes caught the surveillance monitor, ‘What the hell?’
Alfonzo put his finger to his lips and reached for shorts. He slid them up and removed his weapon from the drawer. He gestured to Selange to stand against the far wall. He glanced once more at Selange as she hurried to a corner pushing her arms in his shirt. Her hair cascaded over the bright collar and she swept it back with her hand as she fumbled to button it. He frowned, Freddie was here and it was time to end the cat and mouse game, once and for all!
The door flew open and Alfonzo squeezed off a shot striking the intruder in the arm but two wild shots careened into the room before the assailant stumbled backward into the corridor. Alfonzo advanced taking advantage of Freddie’s lack of coordination and discharged a bullet in his chest. The vermin writhed in pain. Alfonzo kicked the gun away from the man’s hand and stepped over him and aimed between his eyeballs. Finally, he got the chance to look the man in the eye. The same man who killed someone he loved. He wanted Freddie to feel the terror, to see how easy it is to shoot, but the difficulty of cowards to accept death.
Blood flowed from the man’s torso onto the parquet wood.
Freddie clutched his chest, “Fuck you punk!”
He stepped on the man’s torso and he shrieked in agony as Alfonzo’s foot dug into his wound. A sinister smile crept along Alfonzo’s lips at the sound of the man’s pain. He knew such pain, lived it ever-since the death of his uncle and it felt good to hear the bastard responsible experience the torment. –But hearing any sound from the mouth of Freddie angered him and he knelt down hard on his chest, stuck the gun in the scum’s mouth then someone shouted.
“Alfonzo, don‘t…the feds are here!”
He turned t
o see Nico barreling down the hall. Soon, he closed the distance, “Hurry, get rid of the gun!”
Footsteps echoed on the stairs just as Alfonzo rose, “Up here!” He shouted and the hallway filled with law enforcement. They converged upon the man bleeding on the floor. Alfonzo stepped away and he immediately thought about Selange. Freddie’s gun discharged, didn’t it?
‘Shit, Selange!’
He rushed into the bedroom and found Selange lying on the floor, blood spreading across the side of the white shirt. He dropped to his knees and placed her head on his lap, “It’s okay…you’re going to be okay, babe.”
She smiled weakly, “So this is what catching a bullet feels like? You and Fifty Cent make it sound so glamorous but this shit hurts.”
His hand pressed against her side to slow the bleeding but it seeped through his fingers in a colorful spill and clung to his tan skin. He spoke softly, “Stop trying to make me laugh, it’s not working.”
Her eyes were beginning to close as if she were about to nap, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She breathed, “Don’t leave.”
Tears flowed openly, “I’m not going anywhere bonita but you have to hold on…Selange stay awake…keep talking.”
Her eyes fluttered open, “I’m trying…I love you…Alfonzo I’m getting tired,” then her eyes closed and she lay motionless in his arms.
Nico yelled, “Somebody get a fucking ambulance, someone’s shot in here!”
Alfonzo cradled Selange. His head dropped in despair. His body felt cold, his heart turned to stone and he sat there knowing her blood was on his hands because he had been too weak to let her go.
Nico turned away; this is exactly what he feared would happen. The paramedics burst into the bedroom and Nico walked over to help the young man to his feet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Alberti answered the cell, “Um-hum.”