by Dana Delamar
Ruggero, Claudio, and Santino stayed behind to clean up—despite the gloves, they wiped down and threw all their weapons into the woods. Then they gathered up Paolo’s body and wrapped it in a sheet. Ruggero did his best with some bleach he found in the kitchen to erase the traces of Paolo’s and the signora’s blood, but it was a difficult task. Paolo’s DNA wasn’t on file with the polizia, but the signora’s was, so Ruggero took Carlo’s clothes in case any of her blood had spilled on them. At the last minute, he thought to take the water glass, the pitcher, and the ashtray as well.
Dario Andretti sat on the stairs next to Massimo’s body, waiting for them to leave. He pulled out his mobile phone at one point, but Ruggero gave him a hard look until he put it back in his pocket. Regardless of what Enrico had decided, Ruggero would put a bullet in Dario if need be. They both knew that.
When they were done, Ruggero walked to the foot of the stairs. “We’re leaving.”
Dario pulled out his phone. “May I?”
Ruggero nodded. “I haven’t left anything for the carabinieri.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Dario gave him a half smile. “I’m torching the place.”
With a last glance around, Ruggero left the house, the scent of bleach and gunpowder burning in his nose.
They tossed the water pitcher, the glass, and the ashtray into the woods several miles away. Carlo’s clothes they would burn. And Paolo they would leave in an alley in Milan. Ruggero regretted that, but it was Paolo’s laxness that got them into this mess. In a few hours, he would place an anonymous call to tip off the polizia to Paolo’s body. It was the best he could do for the boy.
Enrico didn’t relax until Beltrami had x-rayed Kate’s head and hooked her up to machines to monitor her heart rate and her breathing.
“How is she?”
Beltrami looked at the readout. “Her oxygen level is a little low, but it’s adequate.” He turned away from Kate and placed the x-ray on the light box on the wall. “No fracture. She could have a concussion, so ideally she should be awake, but with the drug....” He shrugged helplessly. “At least it will make it easier for her when I put the stitches in.”
The doctor worked quickly, using surgical glue to close the wound on her face, but he had to use many stitches on her arm. “I’m afraid she’ll have a scar. I’m no plastic surgeon.”
“Her face will be fine, though? I’m sure that’ll be her major concern.”
“The wound on her cheek was small, so there should be no noticeable scarring.” Beltrami motioned Enrico up onto a table. “Now let’s take a look at you.”
Enrico shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. Beltrami prodded his ribs, listened to his lungs, then x-rayed him. “Will I live?” Enrico joked, as the doctor looked over the x-ray.
“Sì, but two ribs are cracked. I’ll give you something for the pain.”
Enrico watched Kate while Beltrami rummaged through a locked cabinet. She looked so pale, so still. If it weren’t for the beeping of the monitor and the light rise and fall of her chest, he’d have thought she was dead. The thought pierced him—she’d come so close. So very close. It was all his fault for not acting more decisively. Was he being a fool all over again, trusting Dario to keep his word?
Passing up the opportunity to crush the Andretti cosca, to absorb all their territory—that certainly was foolishness of the highest degree. Don Battista would question his judgment. And many others would see his choice as weak.
And yet—Carlo was Benedetto’s brother. Showing Dario mercy—surely that would be to Enrico’s advantage somehow. Or at least he could use that as his excuse.
The simple truth was that he was still, after all this time, not a killer by choice, but only by necessity. For a Mafia don, that was a horrible liability.
His thoughts turned to Dom. Antonio had him under guard in Milan, in one of the safe houses. Enrico closed his eyes, the knot in his stomach growing larger. How would he ever face Francesca and the children again? He was their godfather. Dom was the closest thing he had to a brother, he was almost all the blood family Enrico had left. Wasn’t there a special place in Hell for those who committed fratricide?
But what other choice was there? Dom had plotted with Carlo. Dom had wanted all of them dead, and without dirtying his hands directly. All so he could “innocently” take over the cosca.
Enrico burned at the betrayal. Never would he have done the same to Dom. Never. Dom tried to justify what he’d done, he tried to claim he was doing it for everyone’s good. Though Enrico would have liked to dismiss that notion outright, there was some truth to it. He hadn’t been the best steward of the cosca’s interests. He’d let his heart rule instead of his head. In a way, he had forced Dom’s hand.
But he couldn’t live with any other course; he couldn’t have walked away and abandoned Kate to the Andrettis. Somehow, he was going to have to make up for what he’d done. Though there’d be no bringing Paolo back. That price would always be with him. Just like the ghosts of Fiammetta, Veronica, and Franco. Soon Dom would join that list. The people he’d irrevocably wronged.
One of Kate’s monitors began to beep frantically, catapulting him out of his thoughts. He jumped off the table and rushed to her bedside. Beltrami was already there.
“What’s wrong? I thought everything was okay.”
“Her heart is racing.” Beltrami stared at the monitors, watching the readout. Kate started thrashing, then she came awake with a gasp and sat up. “Let go of me!” she yelled.
Enrico touched her arm. “It’s okay, Kate. It’s all over.”
“It is?” She looked at him in disbelief.
He pulled up a chair and took her hand. “Tell me what happened.”
Kate recounted what she could remember, including Dom’s betrayal. “He said I was a fool to doubt you. And when the guy who wants you dead defends you, how could I not believe it?”
Enrico’s chest grew tight. He asked Beltrami to leave the room before speaking. “Cara, I could never kill you.” He smiled. “This is going to sound horrible, but that has been the problem all along. I could not tell you who I was, I could not let you go, and I could not kill you if you could not accept me. I have never been faced with so many bad choices.”
Kate looked at his somber face and she cracked a smile. “I never imagined that not wanting to kill me would be a problem.”
Enrico started to laugh. He shook his head. “I lead some life, yes?”
“And now, so do I.” She squeezed his hand.
Enrico’s heart sped up. “What are you saying?”
She held his gaze, her eyes tender. “Don Lucchesi, will you do me the great honor of being my husband?”
She wanted to be his wife after all, after all the lies he’d told, after everything that had happened. “I shall.” He kissed her, making the touch of his lips soft, lingering. Then he kissed her cheek and stroked her injured temple, his fingers lightly passing over the lump beneath the skin. She nuzzled into his hand.
“What are you going to do about Dom?” she asked.
“I know what I have to do. I know what he tried to do to us, what he did to my father. And yet....” He looked down at their joined hands. “Since Primo and Mario were killed, Dom has been my brother.”
Kate was silent for a moment, then she said, “Has he treated you like a brother?”
Enrico couldn’t look at her. “Let’s not talk about him anymore.”
“I will support whatever decision you make.” Her voice was soft. “But don’t forget why I’m lying here.”
He burned with shame at the reminder. “I won’t.” He had to call Antonio soon. He could just give the order, but he wasn’t going to do that. He would let Dom say his piece first. It was the least he could do. He turned to her. “You do realize what you’re urging me to do?”
She nodded, her face somber. “I never thought I’d feel like this, but I understand now. You don’t live in the same world I grew up in. You never have.”
Sadness
overwhelmed him. “I regret that our child will grow up this way.”
“At least our baby will have two devoted parents. That’s more than many children have.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek. “You’ve gotten much better at consoling me.”
She laughed. “I had nowhere to go but up.”
Enrico nodded. He should’ve been happy. But Dom was a weight hanging over him.
He got up and wandered around the room, stretching his back and belatedly remembering his ribs, physically unable to remain in one spot.
Kate must have guessed at his discomfort because she said, “Mio caro, you can go. I’m fine.”
Enrico called Beltrami back in. “When can she leave?”
“I’m going to watch her until the drug wears off, then I’ll send her home.”
“See?” Kate said. “I’ll be in good hands.”
Enrico walked over to Kate’s bedside. “You’re sure?”
“Go on.” She shooed him away. “You’ll drive me crazy if you stay.”
He kissed her on the forehead, then planted a quick kiss on her belly. He turned to Beltrami. “Call me if anything happens.”
Enrico found Tommaso in the car out front. He instructed him to go inside and sit with Kate. “Guard her with your life. If anything happens to her, yours won’t be worth living.” His voice was sharp.
Tommaso nodded his grizzled head. “Sì, capo.”
Enrico took a breath, then patted the guard’s shoulder. “Scusa, I’m—”
Tommaso cut him off with a smile. “We’re all on edge, signore. It’s been a hard night.”
Enrico watched the guard walk inside, then he called Ruggero to pick him up. He snapped the phone shut and waited. He still didn’t know if he could do it. He might have to ask Ruggero to step in. A good capo would never do such a thing. But he wasn’t a good capo. He had just proven that in abundance.
Ruggero pulled up shortly after Enrico placed the call. They drove in silence for a while, then Ruggero said, “I did my best to remove all traces of the signora’s blood. Dario says he will burn the house.”
“Bene.” Enrico tapped a thumbnail against his lower lip, debating whether to make his request. He could feel Ruggero looking at him, waiting.
It was Ruggero who broke the silence. “This will be hard. There’s been much love between you.”
“And apparently much hate. Don Battista warned me.”
“You’ve made your decision?”
Enrico looked out the window at the darkness surrounding them. “I am weak.”
Ruggero huffed. “You are a man of principle. Like your father.”
“I haven’t been a good capo lately. I haven’t been the capo this cosca needs.” He looked at his hands in his lap. “I should have ceded to Dom when we first quarreled over Kate. All of this could have been avoided.”
Ruggero snorted. “Carlo’s been spoiling for your blood for years. And Don Domenico….” He trailed off. “Maybe that could’ve been avoided. But he made his choice.”
“He has a point though. I was willing—am willing—to give up everything for this woman. The ‘Ndrangheta is supposed to be first for me.”
Ruggero said nothing for a while, then he sighed. “Don Lucchesi, you’re good man. I’d rather follow you than many others. Outside my blood family, there’s no one I trust more.” He looked over and met Enrico’s eyes. “There’s a flaw in Don Domenico. He might have made a good capo, but he’s a failure as a man. Money isn’t everything in this life. Sometimes I think it’s very little.”
“You’re quite philosophical tonight,” Enrico said, rather astonished by this speech.
“I’m not finished.” He grinned at Enrico. “A man’s riches are this: his friends, his woman, his children, and any relatives who don’t wish to stab him in the back. After that come his health and then his money. That is something Don Domenico doesn’t understand. But you do.”
Enrico smiled. “When you put it like that, I don’t feel like such a fool.”
“If you’ve ever been a fool, Don Lucchesi, it was always for the right reasons.”
“I never expected such a sentiment from you.”
Ruggero shrugged. “The man who does my job is not always me.”
So that’s how he did it. There were two Ruggeros. Enrico sighed. He was going to need to follow suit, wasn’t he? The man he needed to be in the future had better be a lot more ruthless. Or Kate and their children would suffer.
He had to rebuild the cosca, and he had to keep it strong by whatever means necessary. If he wanted to be a man of principle, he was going to have to pick his battles. If he could win the biggest one, the battle over the codes—that was the battle that mattered, the one that would do the most good in the world. Beyond his children, it would be his legacy.
They pulled up to the safe house where Franco Trucco had met his end. They got out of the car, the doors slamming behind them, fallen leaves and gravel crunching underfoot as they walked to the door. Enrico hunched his shoulders against the chilly edge in the air. Winter was coming.
Inside, Antonio was reading a book—one on economics that Enrico had recommended to him—and sitting in front of Dom, who was tied to a chair in the little kitchen. He looked sweaty and disheveled. Perspiration ringed his neck and under his arms. A large bruise blackened the skin below his right eye. The dread on his face made Enrico look away. “Rico, I beg you—”
“Stop.” Enrico’s hand chopped the air. He turned to Antonio and Ruggero. “Please give us some privacy.”
They both nodded, then went into the other room where there was a threadbare sofa and a small TV. Ruggero put the TV on, and Antonio picked up his book. Enrico wasn’t fooled. He was sure they’d hear everything he and Dom said. He just didn’t want them to see the anguish on his face. He ought to be the other Enrico now, the impassive Mafia don, but killing his best friend, his cousin, his second in command—that should mean something. And he should feel it.
Enrico straddled the hardback chair Antonio had been using. He didn’t look at Dom directly; instead he took a moment to compose himself. When he met Dom’s eyes, he wasn’t prepared for the remorse he saw there.
“Rico, you came. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Do you think me such a coward?”
Dom shook his head hastily. “I know this must pain you. That’s what I meant.”
“You think this pains me?” His voice was a stiletto. “You have torn out my heart.”
Dom broke Enrico’s gaze. “I am sorry.” He looked down at the cracked linoleum. “I don’t know what came over me. How I could have betrayed you—”
“Greed is what came over you. Even though you have more than enough. Even though I would’ve given you whatever you asked of me.”
Dom’s face twisted with anguish. “I wish I could take it all back.”
“You nearly got me killed. You allowed Carlo to torture and kill my father—your uncle. Do you know what Carlo did to him?” When Dom shook his head, Enrico continued, his voice falling as he struggled for control. “He crushed his fingers, then cut them off, every one. Then his hands.” Dom moaned, and Enrico’s face grew hot. The nerve of him, acting like he cares. “On top of that, you put Kate and my child in the hands of that monster. Thank God he was intent on having her instead of killing her.”
“I’m so very sorry.” Dom bowed his head, tears streaming down his face. “I beg you for mercy. I beg you for exile.”
“What mercy was there for my father? Your uncle? Your blood?” Enrico slammed his fist on the table. “God damn you! How dare you ask me for mercy!”
“I beg you.” Dom choked on the words. “Do you want to be the murderer of your godchildren’s father?”
Enrico burned. Dom was using the one card left to him: guilt. And it was working. Francesca and the children trusted him to watch over them if anything happened to Dom. Dom’s sons would someday run the cosca, if Enrico failed to have sons of his own. How could he ever look th
em in the eyes again?
“Please, I beg you. I was only looking out for the cosca. I was only thinking of the future.”
Enrico heard a light step behind them and looked up. Antonio stood next to him, his gun held loosely at his side. “I’m tired of hearing this.” He raised the gun and pointed it at Dom’s face. “May I?”
Enrico touched Antonio’s other arm and shook his head. “No.”
Antonio’s eyes turned to him but he didn’t lower the gun. “Look at him, Don Lucchesi. The only thing he’s sorry for is getting caught.”
Enrico’s eyes slipped from Antonio’s to Dom’s.
“Rico, please, you don’t have to do this. Send me away. Strip me of my fortune. Just let me take Francesca and the children.”
Enrico closed his eyes. Dom’s suggestion appealed to the part of him that didn’t want to believe Dom had betrayed him for greed. And yet—Antonio was right. Dom didn’t understand what he’d done. He didn’t feel the horror of it, the enormity of it. He didn’t feel the loss of Enrico the way Enrico felt the loss of Dom. He didn’t care the way Enrico did.
Had Dom always had this hole where his heart should’ve been? Had Dom always been able to hide this part himself? Or had Enrico just been blind?
Enrico remembered the difficult days in the wake of his mother’s and brothers’ deaths. The confrontation with his father over Dario. The hasty promise to his father, the confusing rush of taking his vows to the ‘Ndrangheta. Dom had been at his side then, supporting him. Had he been blind to who Dom was then? No.
But shortly thereafter Dom’s first wife and child died. He’d been heartbroken at the loss of his beloved bride and son during childbirth.
Enrico looked at Dom. “You weren’t always this way. Losing Vanda and Angelo changed you.” Dom evaded his eyes. “Is that when you hardened against everyone you loved? Is that when it happened?” Enrico’s voice was soft, but the stiletto’s tip danced along his words.
Dom’s face crumpled and he looked down. When he spoke, his voice was thick with tears. “Love is a terrible thing. All it does is hurt you in the end.”