He didn't even greet me, and gone was the cultured, slightly affable middle-aged man who charmed as much as he analyzed. Instead, I was facing Cutthroat Carlo Bertoli, the man who'd started as one of the most cold-blooded men in the entire Bertoli family. “You motherfucker,” he nearly screamed, storming across the floor of the garage and backhanding me. One of the moose, a thickly muscled guy named Lorenzo, noticed that I wasn't trussed up overhead and opened his mouth, but he closed it when Pietro gave him a look. He knew that Pietro was nearly as merciless as Carlo was. “You seducing son of a bitch!”
Carlo's next strike was a kick to my nuts, which I didn't have to fake being doubled over by. Pain radiated sickly up my body from my offended testicles, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes open as he started kicking me over and over. I curled into a ball, silent. My silence seemed to infuriate him more. “Why? Why won't you scream and cry?”
He paused, shaking out his aching leg. I used the opportunity to get back to my knees, but nothing more. Instead, I kept my silence as Carlo crossed the room, rooting around in a closet that I knew contained gardening equipment before finding what he wanted, coming out with a gardening shovel. “Lorenzo, make sure he feels it, but no edges, and nothing to the head,” Carlo said, handing the moose the shovel. “And make sure he can walk.”
You don't really know pain until you get beaten with the flat head of a garden shovel, I learned, as Lorenzo started tooling off on me. The first shot was to my chest, right in the middle between my pectoral muscles. I was barely able to jerk my head to the side in time to avoid catching the handle in the mouth. The second shot was to my back, driving me back down to the floor. As he began systematically beating me, Carlo yelled.
“Daniel, I raised you! I gave you a home, a family, and a life! I didn't ask too much, just that you be an honorable man, and I don't have too many rules, do I? No. But you had to go and break the one that was closest to my heart. Stealing from me, lying to me, those I can understand, and maybe even forgive, can't I, Pietro?”
“Yes, Don Bertoli,” Pietro said immediately, his gun now put away and his hands clasped in front of him like he was having a prayer in church or something. “Very forgiving, sir.”
“Damn right,” Carlo said, turning back to me. “So why did this piece of trash have to go and break the one rule I hold sacrosanct? You're lucky that I love my niece, Daniel. I promised her upstairs that you'd live and that you'd walk out of here tonight. It was a moment of weakness on my part, because I love her so much. But I swear this to you. If you ever, and I mean ever, set foot in Seattle again, I'm going to make sure your cock is fed to Pietro's dogs while it's still attached to your body.”
He knelt and spit in my face, then got up and turned away. “Tune him up some more, Lorenzo. But remember what I said—he walks out tonight.”
Carlo left the garage, and I turned my face to look at Lorenzo, who set the shovel aside with a grin. “Don Bertoli said you have to walk out,” he growled, cracking the ham hocks he called knuckles. “He didn't say anything about you having to look good doing it.”
I don't know how long the beating went on, as Lorenzo's second hit rocked my head pretty hard and things went kind of swimmy for a while. I do know that the entire time, I didn't say a word, except for the times his knee caught me in the stomach and I grunted as the air was forced from my lungs. In the end, I was bleeding from quite a few places, and while I had all my teeth, I was pretty sure my nose was broken.
“Lorenzo,” Pietro, who'd stayed behind the whole time to watch the beating, said after I coughed up some blood onto the floor, “that's enough.”
Lorenzo, who'd worked up a pretty good sweat in the course of kicking my ass, stepped back, panting slightly. “Okay, Mr. Marconi. I think I need a drink of water anyway.”
He left, and it was just me and Pietro in the garage. I struggled back to my knees and tried to get to my feet, but failed, losing my balance. Before I could hit the concrete again, Pietro was there, holding me and helping me up. “That took a lot of balls, kid,” he said in a low voice as he cut the now bloodstained ropes that held my hands together. “Why'd you not say anything?”
“I deserved it,” I mumbled, my lips swollen but still understandable. “I betrayed the man who was like a father to me.”
He nodded, then slung my arm around his shoulder. “All right. I had Julius put your bag on the front steps. There's no way you're walking through the house right now. I'll get you outside, then you get the hell out of here. You're lucky. I hope you realize that.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling something pull in my ribs. “Can you give me an hour to get some shit from my apartment before the boys come to make sure I followed orders?”
“You've got until the morning shift gets here,” he said, glancing at his watch. “That gives you about ninety minutes. Then you’d better be on the fucking road out of here.”
“I will,” I groaned, wincing as we left the garage by the side door and he helped me to the front steps. I found the backpack that Adriana insisted I buy to blend in with the college crowd, my computer inside along with a few of my clothes, the keys to my BMW sitting beside it. Lifting the bag and picking up the keys was the most painful exercise I'd ever done. “Pietro, you know that—”
“I don't want to know anything, Daniel,” he said gruffly. “Now go, before my soft side gives way to the rest of me.”
Chapter 17
Adriana
I sat in Mom's bedroom, trying not to cry. “It's not fucking right,” I mumbled under my breath, looking out of Mom's window to the parking lot of the house. I watched as Daniel limped to his car, sitting inside for long minutes before he got it started, backed out wobbly, and drove away. “It's not right.”
“Adriana, right now, I don't think your Uncle is concerned about your opinion of right and wrong,” Mom said, trying to keep her voice under control. “To be honest, neither am I.”
“Mom, I was just . . .”
“You were having sex with one of Carlo's men in his own house!” Mom yelled, something she hadn't done to me since I had broken the Ming vase Dad had given her when I was eight. “Jesus Christ, Adriana, could you not have controlled your hormones long enough to at least wait until after this Vincent Drake asshole was in the ground?”
I was stunned. Like I said, Mom almost never yelled at me, and she rarely cursed. Uncle Carlo was one thing, but Mom was something completely different. Instead of standing up to her, I just looked down, trying not to cry. I felt like my life was falling apart, and it was all my fault.
She stood where she was, and I was sure she was staring at me for a bit, then she sighed. “Adriana, I'm sorry I yelled. Just . . . sweetie, what a mess this is.”
“Like I planned on falling in love with him?” I pleaded, looking up at Mom. “Like I planned on needing him so badly that I seduced him? That's right, Mom. I was the one who invited him into my room tonight, not the other way around!”
She took a deep breath, then sat on the bed. “I guess I'm mostly upset because I saw how you two were together. I knew there was something there, but I kept hoping this issue with Drake would get resolved soon. I thought that you two could at least wait that long, and that you definitely wouldn't be so bold as to do anything here . . .”
I didn't have a reply, except the truth. “Mom, I realized something over the past few weeks. Daniel and I, we've been trying to deny this for a long time. We just didn't know it.”
She slid back, still in her pajamas, and leaned against the pillows. It was the same king sized bed she and Dad shared when he was alive, and to be honest, she looked tiny and out of place on it. “I can't be too angry with you,” she finally said, lying back. “It was the same with me and Johnny. Oh, by the time you were born, you didn't know it, but your grandfather was so opposed to his Italian son dating a Scotch-Irish girl that he threw fits that shook the walls of this place.”
She managed to get a chuckle out of me, and I looked around the room.
The Bertoli mansion had been in the family for two generations now. Grandpa bought it in the economic crunch of the nineteen seventies from a former shipbuilding magnate of the early twentieth century. We'd kept it updated, but there was still a lot of history in the house. “Grandpa never did have a problem saying his piece.”
“True, but Johnny held his ground,” Mom said, smiling wistfully. “He was so strong, your daddy. A lot calmer than your grandfather, too. Eventually, the old man relented when he saw that Johnny and I were willing to run off if he wouldn't grant his blessing. There was no way that old man was going to let his Vegas buddies have leverage on him with that one, and while I wasn't thrilled that his blessing was due to Mafia business more than true acceptance, it got the job done. Of course, as soon as the old man saw you, he was head over heels about you. You came out with that thick mane of bright red hair, looking the way you did, and you were his little princess right away.”
“I'm kind of glad my hair darkened up some though,” I laughed, thinking back to some of my childhood photos. “I looked like Pippie Longstocking when I was four.”
“I'm glad too,” Mom said. “I don't know what you're going to need to do next. I assume you're being honest when you say you love Daniel, or at least you genuinely think you do. And when I think about it, you've had a lot worse quality boyfriends. Regardless of his misgivings, he's a capable man. And I guess I'd be the world's biggest hypocrite to say that you shouldn't fall in love with a Bertoli man.”
“Considering you've adapted to the life quite well, yeah,” I replied. “You know, since you work with Carlo now and all.”
Mom sat up and gave me a look, then lay back with a sigh. “I do. And I honestly don't regret it, adopting this lifestyle. Sure, it was the Mafia life that took Johnny from me, but without it, I'd probably never have had him at all. The fifteen years we had together . . . I'd take that over a millennium without him.”
I was about to reply when Carlo knocked on the door frame, changed out of his pajamas and in his business suit. “May I come in?”
“Come in,” Mom said, sitting up. “What do you want?”
“I came to talk to Adriana about what's going to happen now,” he said, his voice stern but calm. “As I'm sure you saw, I kept my promise. Daniel left the house under his own power, and I have only banished him from Seattle.”
“A city of a million people, and you get to decide who can live where?” I said, getting out of my chair. “Who gave you that power?”
Carlo's eyes flashed, but he kept his calm. “I have that power because I'm the only one who is willing to use it. Now, as for you, young lady, you will be escorted to campus today by Julius. Tomorrow, I'll have a more permanent solution, but you will go to class and you will continue your studies. I will not have you dropping out because of that bastard.”
“You'd know something about that word, wouldn't you, Carlo?” I said, turning my back to him. “Go to hell.”
“Young lady, I've given you a lot of slack because you're my niece, but I will not tolerate anymore disrespect,” Carlo warned, his voice dropping to deadly dangerous levels.
I turned and glared at him, but stopped when I saw that he meant business. If I said one more word of how I felt, I'd find myself over Julius's shoulder. My lips tight, I nodded. “Fine. I'll go get dressed, or would you like to have someone make sure I do that too?”
Carlo shook his head. “Of course not. But Adriana?”
“Yes?”
Carlo stroked his chin and fixed me with a level gaze. “Yes, what?”
I blinked, shocked, but a little shake of the head from Mom in the corner of my vision told me not to push the issue. “Yes . . . Uncle Carlo.”
“Much better, Bella. We'll discuss this more when you get back from class this afternoon. Have a good day.”
I controlled my walk out of the room, although by the time I was halfway down the hall, I heard him and Mom yelling at each other, even though I'd closed the door behind me as I left. As I walked, a crazy plan crept into my mind, one that required a little bit of luck, a lot of guts, and the willingness to abandon everything just to follow my heart. However, by the time I reached my room, I knew I had to do it. The only question was a matter of exactly how and when the opportunity would present itself.
It took me five days to put my plan into action. The first day was Friday, and I only had one class, with Julius escorting me tightly the whole time. There was no chance to do anything, and when I tried to say that I wanted to go to the library, he shook his head. “I'm sorry, Adriana, but your uncle gave me specific instructions. To class, and back home. If you need something, you can either get it another time or someone will get it for you.”
Saturday and Sunday, I was practically a prisoner within my own home, as I wasn't left alone at any time other than to use the shower or the toilet. I spent a lot of time in my room with someone outside my door at all times, mainly because I couldn't deal with Carlo's bullshit any longer.
Even eating meals with him was a chore as I mechanically chewed forkful after forkful of food. I was at least partially reassured when Pietro came to me Saturday morning, after breakfast, and quietly informed me that Kathy had been fired.
It wasn't until Monday that I had the best opportunity to try and implement my plan. Julius had been replaced with Roberto Ciampa, the youngest of Carlo's men who could call himself a full enforcer. He was still pretty raw, and I knew he didn't have the training or skills that Daniel had.
After my second class, I had two hours until the next one, a time that until then, Daniel and I had often spent having lunch, talking, and of course, once we caved in to our desires and took that first step, spent most of the time sharing intimate moments.
Roberto, however, wasn't clued in to the routine, a point I hoped to take advantage of. After class, I pulled my backpack over my shoulders and gave him a half-bored look. “You ready?”
“For what?” Roberto asked, confused. “Isn't it lunch time?”
“It is, but first I need to use the ladies' room,” I said. “Let's go to the student union. They've got toilets there.”
What Roberto didn't know was how crowded the student union cafeteria got during the lunch rush. When I saw the line outside, I started squirming from side to side, faking that I was about to pee my pants. “I'll go around the corner and use the ones in the fitness center,” I quickly said, heading for the door. “Come on!”
Roberto followed until he hit the door that separated the ladies' locker room from the hallway. “Hurry, at least,” he griped, looking at the sign. “I can't believe this shit.”
“Don't worry, this is usually much faster,” I said, darting inside. Quickly heading to the back, I used my knowledge of the locker room and launched my plan.
The locker rooms in the school fitness center had two sets of doors. The outer set was connected to the hallway where Roberto was standing, while another set led to the inside of the fitness center. But, the fitness center had more doors than that leading in and out. I cinched my backpack straps and walked quickly, avoiding the looks of the people working out while I boogied past in jeans and a t-shirt, pulling my hair back into a quick ponytail. I wished I had a ball cap to jam on my head, but I knew that would have looked suspicious since I almost never wear them.
I figured I had three minutes, five at most, before Roberto said screw the rules and found out that I wasn't in the locker room. Rushing down the stairs, I started jogging when I got outside, hoping that I looked like a student who was late for a class or an appointment and not a girl running for her freedom.
The next ten minutes were some of the most stressful of my life to that point. Every time I turned a corner, I was expecting Roberto to be standing there, or to hear him call out my name as he rushed to catch up to me. Luckily, I got away from campus and onto a city bus without incident, not even caring where it was headed. I just needed to put distance between him and myself.
It took me about two hours to get to where I n
eeded, a shopping center with a big box retailer. In that amount of time, my phone had already rung five times before I just shut the thing off and pulled the battery, hoping that Carlo hadn't called the phone company to track the device.
It took me thirty precious minutes to get what I needed, grabbing clothes off the shelves and tossing them in my basket, not even worrying about the sizes other than eyeballing them.
Swinging through the adjacent electronics store, I grabbed two pre-paid phone kits and checked out, heading into the large bathroom near the food court and using the handicap stall inside to change everything I was wearing, even my underwear. I put everything in the shopping bag, which I chucked into the dumpster behind the shopping center, amused that I'd just thrown away three times the amount of money than what I was wearing. Looking down at my jeans, t-shirt with Tweety Bird on it, and white shoes along with a brand new green nylon backpack, I figured I was ready to put the rest of my plan into action.
Pulling out one of the prepaid cell kits, I slipped the SIM card in, confident that the free one hundred minutes of talk time would be enough. The other I left in my bag, hoping I'd never have to use it. Taking a deep breath, I dialed Daniel's phone number from memory and said a quick prayer that he'd pick up.
The phone rang four times, and on the fifth, someone picked up. “Hello?”
I let my breath out in a rush, tears springing to my eyes as I heard the voice that I'd missed for the past five days. “Daniel, it's me.”
“Ade?” the surprised voice came back over the line. “What the hell are you doing calling me? You know your uncle will find out!”
“I need to see you, Dan. Please. Where are you? I . . . let's go away together.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and I wondered if Daniel was going to hang up. “I'll come to you. Where are you?”
Over the Middle: A Sports Romance Page 34