The Good Daughter: A Mafia Story

by Diana Layne

  “Just don’t get in my way,” Sandro warned, still not trusting Dave, but reluctantly admitting he needed him.

  “I want you to rethink giving me that information. If you kill Carlo, and it’s not in self-defense, I’ll have to take you in.”

  Yes, so that was Dave’s plan--to convince Sandro to turn over the information, not believing Sandro capable of murder.

  “When my wife is safe, you do what you have to do,” Sandro told him. Let Dave think what he would, threaten what he could. Sandro would do what he had to do.

  Dave looked at Marisa again, maybe sensing he hadn’t reached Sandro. “You understand that, don’t you? I’ll have to arrest him.”

  “Sandro will do what he thinks is necessary to keep the woman he loves safe. To keep his family safe,” Marisa said firmly. “Would you do any less?”

  It was Dave’s turn not to answer.

  * * *

  After Sandro left with the list of properties to search for Nia, Dave took Marisa’s arm. “Come on, Princess, time to get you tucked in. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  She jerked her arm away, but the anger stemmed more from where she had to go than at Dave’s take-charge attitude. “If you know so much about me, you should know I’m not going home.”

  “What? You’re going to Luigi’s? Mr. Useful himself?”

  “He is useful. The information I got from him saved Sandro’s life.” But the thought of going to Luigi was getting more distasteful, no matter how important.

  Dave frowned. “True enough. But we don’t need him anymore.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. If I don’t show up tonight, he might get suspicious. It could ruin all our plans.” Even though going to Luigi’s tonight was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

  “Why do you think he’d get suspic--”

  He broke off as she started to walk away. If she didn’t make herself move, she’d never go.

  “Hey, wait,” he said, following her. “Why do you think he’d get suspicious?”

  She paused to outline the reasons. “Very simple. One,” she held up a finger, “I was there when he gave the order to go after Sandro. Two,” she raised a second finger, “Sandro disappears, and then three,” the third finger in the air, “If I were to disappear? Sounds pretty suspicious to me.” She took off again at a brisk pace. Chances were good that Luigi would be suspicious regardless. And even an idiot would know he was going to be in a bad mood. Not a good night before her, but still necessary.

  The frown deepened on Dave’s face, but he kept up with her this time.

  “You’re acting like a jealous lover, Dave.” The thought sent a little tingle of anticipation down her spine. For a moment she wished it were true.

  He pulled her to a stop. Again. “As much as I might want to, I can’t get involved with you.”

  Marisa froze as the past repeated. Paolo had once said those same words. And her reaction had been the same. If only you knew. That he did not know how warped she was, how her father had destroyed her innocence. It was a memory that never left her, never strayed far from consciousness. The fear, the pain, the humiliation and most of all the feeling of betrayal as her father sold her virginity to the highest bidder.

  There was an old saying that Italian men valued their family above all else. Lies. At least for her father. Power and prestige was all he valued.

  No, Paolo had not known the truth. With him she pretended a reality that didn’t exist. Yet it all ended badly.

  And so while her arm pulsed where Dave’s fingers touched, and her body tightened in anticipation of what could be, she knew that she was broken. Unfixable. And dangerous. Especially for Dave. She wanted no more bad endings.

  A car exploding. Another image that never left her mind.

  She would do anything--anything--to erase that image. And since that wasn’t possible, she would do anything to bring her father to justice. For herself. For her mother. For Paolo.

  With no more innocent lives lost.

  Marisa hardened her voice and her resolve. Her plans would not fail. “You’re right, Dave. You can’t get involved with me.”

  “I want to apologize . . . for earlier . . . for my loss of control. I was out of line then. You’re a witness, and I know better.”

  She stared at him, surprised and relieved, she told herself, by his unexpected apology. “A witness for what?”

  “If I can talk Sandro into turning over that information, we can build a good case against your father.”

  “You really think you’re going to have a case?” She gave a short, abrupt laugh. “You don’t know Sandro very well then. He always gets what he goes after. The opportunity to build a court case has passed.”

  Dave looked thoughtful, and instinctively Marisa knew without a doubt he had to be remembering how Sandro had gotten Nia instead of Dave. As Marisa expected though, he didn’t say a word about it.

  Instead he changed subjects. “And you. You’re really going to stand by and let him kill your father?”

  “I’m sick of this life. I want out.”

  “Do you always get what you want?”

  “No. I never have before,” she said, and Paolo’s beautiful brown eyes flashed in her memory. “But I will this time.”

  She turned and walked away.

  This time Dave didn’t follow.

  * * *

  “You got anything of hers for the dogs to sniff?” Eddie DiMarco asked. He unloaded three bay bloodhounds from the kennels in the back of his Ford truck.

  “No, but we got these sheets and comforter that was on her bed.” Giovanni handed the folded bundle to Eddie, before he took out a cigarette.

  “Don’t light that,” Eddie told him. “Not until the dogs get her scent. She lay on these?” He indicated the bundle of bed linens.

  The unlit cigarette dangled from Giovanni’s mouth. “She used the sheets as a rope, probably laid on the comforter after we caught her the first time. She wasn’t feeling too well.”

  “This is the second time she escaped you, then? Must be pretty slick.”

  “Vicious, too.” Angie stumbled out of the house with a makeshift ice bag on his head, his shirt and suit jacket blood stained.

  “Jesus, look at you.” Joey stepped away from Eddie’s truck to remove the ice bag and look at Angie’s head. “That’s some big fucking gash. You better let Carmine take you to the doc, get it sewed up.”

  “Doc’s getting a hell of a business thanks to her. She sent Mikey there earlier.” An uncomfortable silence descended at Angie’s observation.

  Eddie sensed the unease, but not the reason. “Better catch her before she harms anyone else,” he said lightly, trying to ease the suddenly somber mood. After all, one woman. How bad could she be? So she got lucky once. Or twice.

  “Giovanni, you check out those places along the road?” Joey asked.

  “Nothing open. That convenience store about six miles down the road--won’t open until five. Gives us a couple of hours. If she’s even headed that way.”

  “Let’s see if she is.” Eddie held the bundle in front of the dogs to smell and gave them the command to find.

  Immediately, their noses dropped to the ground and they took off baying. At first they headed for the woods but began circling by a big tree. Changing directions, they headed for the road. “Looks like she took the road after all.”

  “Good.” Giovanni finally lit his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. “Let’s go then. Before the morning commuters start to work. Don’t want any witnesses.”

  * * *

  While Marisa searched in the bathroom for headache medicine, Luigi looked at the sparkling diamond engagement ring he’d bought. Beautiful ring for a beautiful lady who, if he were lucky, would soon be his beautiful wife. He placed the ring case into the top drawer of his chest of drawers, in the compartment next to his keys and cell phones. Luigi always kept his things neatly compartmentalized and organized.

  “C’mon, Bella, what is taking you
so long?” He tried to pull back his impatience, yet already he felt the pill he’d taken earlier surging the blood to where it was supposed to go. He was anxious to take advantage while it lasted. And then . . . he’d propose.

  He and Marisa might have gotten together in the first place because Carlo encouraged her to be nice to Luigi for his promotion from capo to consigliere. Of course he had heard the ugly rumors of how she’d been used in the past as a reward until she became proficient with the use of a stiletto, and later a gun. But she’d been exclusively with him from that time, no more favors. He credited himself for keeping her with him.

  She had to say yes. Hadn’t she been seeing him all these months, and didn’t she tell him she loved him? Yet he constantly fought insecurities. He was fifteen years older than her, approaching middle age. And although he was careful with his appearance and exercised, his hair was thinning and his middle spreading no matter how much he worked out. But his age never seemed to make a difference to her.

  And with the help of the little blue pill, he was able to keep her satisfied.

  At last she came out of the bathroom. He frowned. She had not changed into one of those sexy nightgowns she usually wore for him. “Excuse me, love,” she murmured. “I must lie down. My head...” She waved her hands helplessly then collapsed on the bed. Usually so elegant and refined, her dishevelment surprised and then confused him.

  He felt the minutes ticking, realizing that soon the effects of the pill would be worthless. He reached for calm. He wanted the night to be memorable although it was starting out less than perfect.

  “Let me rub your shoulders,” he offered, proud of himself for thinking of it. She would like that, no? “Roll onto your stomach.”

  He straddled her back. She tensed when he rested on the curve her ass, she couldn’t miss that he was aroused, but when he started massaging her back, she relaxed and murmured in the pillow, “Ah, si, that feels wonderful.” But his fingers were tired within two minutes and his erection rubbing against her was growing painful. He bent over to nuzzle her neck and whispered. “I have a surprise for you . . . later.”

  She turned her head to give him better access to her neck. “Hmm, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. He turned her over, allowing him to reach her lips, her body. He kissed her. She stiffened, muttered a protest.

  He brushed off her complaint, knowing she’d give in, she always did.

  Then his phone rang. He froze. He would have ignored that as well, too, but it wasn’t his regular cell phone ring. It was the throw away phone, the ones they used in an emergency. Or in other words, a fuck up. He couldn’t ignore this call.

  “Get the phone, mi amore. I’ll go . . . change,” Marisa murmured.

  He would have been satisfied she was giving in if it wasn’t for the damn ringing phone. He scrambled off her and pulled open the drawer to snatch the irritating damn phone.

  The caller ID read unknown caller. No surprise there. He wasn’t sure who was on the other end, but it would not be good news. Luigi punched the button to connect. “What?”

  “Got bad news,” Angie said without preamble. “She got away.”

  “What the fuck!” He’d expected bad, but not that bad. The chemically-induced heat drained like water out of a tub after the plug had been pulled, leaving him shriveled and useless. “Tell me you got her back?” he shouted before he remembered Marisa was still here. He glanced around. Still in the bathroom with the door shut, but he needed to keep a lid on his anger. Growing up in the business, she knew to keep her mouth shut. But there was no need to involve her in this mess.

  “No, we haven’t found her yet.”

  “And you’re the lucky bastard who gets to call me.” Which meant Luigi was the one who got to tell Carlo. His plans for the evening had just been blown to bits.

  “We got the dogs out,” Angie continued, his words sounding strangely slurred. “They caught a scent.”

  “That’s some good news, at least,” Luigi said. “You okay? You sound funny.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay. She busted me upside the head with a vase, but I’m here at the doc’s now to get sewed up.”

  “Sewed up? Damn.”

  “I gotta go. Doc’s ready for me. But, well . . . we were thinking . . . maybe you could hold off reporting this until we--”

  “Are you kidding me? He’d whack us both if we kept this from him. I’ll take care of it, keep me updated.”

  Marisa came out of the bathroom then, dressed in a filmy red negligee with a sheer red robe. Unfortunately, no matter how hot she looked, his penis didn’t care. Damn it.

  “Problem?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Gotta go out for a while.” Did he see relief in her eyes? Oh, yeah, she had a headache. “You get some rest.”

  He gave her a distracted kiss before he changed his clothes. He slid the phone in his jacket pocket hoping Angie would call him soon with some good news. As he grabbed his keys out of the drawer, the black box with the ring mocked him. Not tonight.

  With a frown for his ruined plans, he slid the drawer closed. He didn’t worry that she would find the engagement ring. Marisa wasn’t a snoop. That was another reason he wanted to marry her. He could trust her.

  Before he got to his car, he called Carlo. Luigi’s evening hadn’t been the only one interrupted, he heard a woman in the background while he was talking to Carlo. No question it was one of Carlo’s latest comares. Carlo’s wife had been an invalid since before they came to the States. Carlo never let that slow down his love life. Luigi envied the boss for his stamina.

  Once at the club, the night went from bad to worse. Carlo gave orders that Luigi couldn’t help but question.

  “The kid? You really wanna do that?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Carlo wagged his finger in front of Luigi’s face. “Don’t you go fucking questioning me. Sandro betrayed me and he’s fucking gonna pay. Get that bitch back and the kid will keep her in place. She gets away, the kid will bring them both running.”

  Like other made guys, Luigi had tortured people. Killed them. But nothing gave him the willies worse than messing with kids. Babies were sacred. He wanted a bundle of them with Marisa.

  While Carlo had little regard for any human life. Old, young, in between. His reputation was built on his ruthlessness. Back in Italy, before Luigi was part of the family, Carlo supposedly wiped out a whole family, dad, mom, kids; one child as young as two. Without blinking. Just because he suspected the dad of being a rat. No one was ever brought to justice for the crime, but rumors among the Mafioso pointed to Carlo. If anyone knew for sure, no one talked.

  In an effort to stave off the inevitable, Luigi presented the best argument he could. “Agent Armstrong’s gonna have him squirreled away somewhere. And now we’ve lost our inside man--”

  “Find the kid.” Carlo’s words were final.

  No argument against that.

  Chapter 18

  Snowflakes floated onto Nia’s face, melted, leaving wet spots for the cold night air to freeze. She pushed to her feet out of the damp ditch. With each breath, the biting cold stabbed her lungs, pierced her throat, and brought reality into sharp, bitter focus.

  A car and a truck had passed. She took off running again, though the wind cut through her flimsy slacks and her feet felt like blocks of ice. She’d been jogging steadily for the past hour, pacing herself, until the occasional car sent her flying to her belly, heart pounding, waiting in the ditch.

  The cars that drove by might hold possible rescue. But just as likely one of them held the mobsters. She had no doubt they were looking for her, and she wasn’t going to risk making contact with anyone. So far, other than the rare passing car, she hadn’t seen a sign of life--no houses, no businesses, just acres and acres of farmland, but she was bound to come upon something soon.

  Far off, but fast approaching headlights sent her heart rate spiking and her scurrying to the ditch again. Lying flat on her stomach
, she pretended it was Sandro driving the car, scouring the state of New York for her. No matter what he’d tried to make her believe earlier, she knew without a doubt now he was in serious trouble.

  Regardless of his own troubles, she knew once he learned of her kidnapping, he would be out searching for her, no matter the risk to himself. She knew him well. Fear for him, fear for herself and her son made her muscles tighten and she wanted to curl into a ball and pretend none of this was happening.

  To dispel the freezing fear, she pictured how happy he would be when he found her. How he would cover her face, her lips, with warm grateful kisses. The strong image was so real, she almost jumped up from her hiding place to wave down the passing car.

  Last minute sanity prevailed. She knew she couldn’t take the chance no matter how tempting. The cold and fatigue must be making her lose it.

  She forced herself to stay still, returning to her daydream of Sandro’s soft, soothing kisses, and that he would soon be awakening her from this horrible nightmare. He would hold her, whisper sweet Italian words in her ear, and when she was calmed, he would lay her back and make slow, passionate love to her.

  The car finally passed. Nia realized her cheeks were wet with more than snowflakes. She wiped the tears away, dragged herself to her feet, and made herself start running once more.

  * * *

  Sandro had made a wrong turn, and ten miles down the road, he still couldn’t find the smaller street that should have been there. He pulled into the parking lot of a closed convenience store and put the stolen Honda Accord in park. The bright security lights surrounding the store made it easy for him to look at the map he’d bought before he left the city. Now, he wished he’d taken time to buy a GPS.