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 proved 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 them 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 of 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.”
A lump formed in Enrico’s throat. Hadn’t he said something similar to Ruggero just a few hours ago? He got up and walked into the other room, then went outside. He closed the door behind him, swallowing great lungfuls of the crisp night air.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Dom was already living in a horrible hell, and he, Dom’s best friend, hadn’t recognized it. All these years, Dom had been alone with his grief, his isolation. And Enrico, like everyone else, had assumed he’d recovered because he’d taken another wife and had other children. He’d assumed that Dom’s grief was nothing but a buried memory. But grief, that most human of emotions, had warped him, had destroyed his very humanity. It had left him a shell of a man.
He heard the door open and recognized the sound of Antonio’s step. He looked over his shoulder, saw the grim expression on Antonio’s face. “What is it?”
“It has to be done, Don Lucchesi. Can’t you see he’s only sorry for himself?”
“I know that. But still... he is my brother.”
“Would Primo or Mario have done this to you?”
The vehemence in Antonio’s voice surprised him. “You seem more angered by this than I am.”
“My feelings are not as mixed.” Antonio’s voice softened. “If you cannot be angry on your own behalf, think of the signora and your child. Think of your father.”
“Enough.” He didn’t need Antonio’s reminders.
“I’ve said my piece.” Antonio went inside.
Enrico took a deep breath, then slowly let it out in a visible cloud on the night air. Antonio was right. But could he pull the trigger?
He had to. He was the capo of the Lucchesi family. It was his duty.
He spun around and strode inside. Ruggero was still on the couch watching TV. “I need a gun,” Enrico said to him.
Ruggero pulled out a pair of gloves matching his own and handed them to Enrico, who put them on. Then he took a snub-nosed revolver from his pocket. A cheap throwaway gun, perfect for a job like this.
Gun in hand, Enrico walked into the kitchen. Tears rolled down Dom’s face. “I beg you. Please don’t do this.”
Enrico raised the revolver, his sight blurring at the edges from unshed tears. “You were my brother, as much as Primo, as much as Mario. I hate you for making me do this.”
“Then don’t. Let me leave. I will never bother you again.” Dom paused, his eyes holding Enrico’s. His voice hoarsened. “I swear it on Vanda and Angelo. I swear it.”
Damn him. Damn Domenico Lucchesi to Hell. Tears threatened to stream down Enrico’s face. He willed his voice to stay steady. “I’ve already learned my lesson about traitors. Mercy doesn’t beget mercy.” His finger tightened on the trigger.
“Before you do it, may I ask something of you?” Dom’s voice was surprisingly steady.
Enrico nodded. Dom held his eyes. “I beg you to take the vow of comparaggio with my sons.”
The lump in Enrico’s throat nearly strangled him. Dom was asking him to be their father in his stead, to take them as his sons and never betray them. He didn’t know what to say.
“Please Rico.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the most honorable man I know. The only one I would entrust them to.” He paused. “Will you do it?”
“I swear it.” He couldn’t stop a few tears from falling. Damn you, Dom. Damn you. Enrico took a steadying breath, then he squeezed the trigger.
Dom’s body jerked, crimson blooming across his chest. Enrico took a step forward and put another bullet in him. He swallowed hard, looking at the body. Antonio stepped around him and felt for the pulse under Dom’s jaw. Dom’s open eyes stared at Enrico. “He’s dead,” Antonio said.
Enrico nodded dumbly, his throat too constricted to speak. He turned and breathed deeply. When Antonio touched him on the forearm, Enrico jerked away. “Leave me.” He was damned. Would God ever forgive him for this?
He stood alone in the kitchen for a few moments, then set the gun on the table beside Dom. It was done, this most horrible thing, and there was no use grieving it. What other choice had he had? Dom knew the rules, he knew the price he’d pay for treason. They all did.
And still it cut Enrico to the bone to enforce that price.
He wiped his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why God had cursed him this way. “I must deserve it,” he whispered to himself. He waited for an answer, some sign, but he heard nothing other than the inane laugh track from the show Ruggero was watching on TV. Maybe that is a sign in itself.
Quickly crossing himself, he swore to do penance. He’d look after Dom’s family, he’d make sure they wanted for nothing. He’d take the vow of comparaggio. And he’d take Dom’s sons into the cosca, if that’s what they wanted.
Which reminded him—he had a job to do. He was the capo, and he needed to attend to business. He walked out to the living room. The men looked up at him. “Ruggero, please accompany me outside.”
Ruggero followed him out the door. “What is it, Don Lucchesi?”
Enrico clasped his hands behind his back. He’d thought about this earlier, almost mentioned it in the car, but he’d decided to wait until it was official. But now it was time. “I need a new capo di società. One I can trust without reservation. You are such a man.”
Ruggero smiled and inclined his head. “I’m pleased you think so. But my place is at your side, guarding you.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Besides, you need a man with a head for business.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t wait to find such a person.”
Ruggero raised an eyebrow. “With respect, capo, perhaps you can’t see it.” Ruggero motioned with his head toward the safe house. “The man you need is in there.”
“Antonio?”
Ruggero nodded. “He’s no longer a boy.”
Enrico mulled it over. Yes, Antonio was a young man now. A smart loyal man with a generous heart. A man whose love he could never doubt. That was the most important thing in the end. Hadn’t Dom just proved that?
He left Ruggero and found Antonio in the kitchen wiping the gun down, just in case. “We need to talk.”
Antonio nodded. His eyes met and held Enrico’s. “If you’re angry with me, remember that my first duty is to protect you. And I’ve done so.”
Ruggero was right. Nothing of the boy lingered in Antonio’s face, in the hardness of his eyes, in the set of his jaw. “I need to replace Dom. Will you consider taking over?”
Antonio’s brow furrowed. “You’re offering me capo di società?”
Enrico nodded. It felt right, good, to be making this choice. To acknowledge how important Antonio was to him. “I would be honored to have you by my side.”
Antonio grinned. “I accept.” Then his face grew somber. “Did you mean what you said to Don Domenico? Mercy doesn’t beget mercy?”
Enrico shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I know anything anymore.” He paused. “I never thought the day would come when I’d have to kill my own blood.” He looked up, holding Antonio’s eyes with his. “Are you certain you want this?”
“I am. I’ve seen the worst tonight. But it had to be done.”
Enrico leaned forward, clasping Antonio in a loose embrace. He kissed both his cheeks. “Antonio Legato, you are now capo di società of the Lucchesi cosca. Do you swear fealty to me as your capo and to this cosca, above all others?”
“Sì.” Antonio returned the embrace and kissed Enrico on both cheeks, then he dropped to one knee and kissed the signet ring on Enrico’s right hand, the ring emblazoned with the Lucchesi crest. “I swear it.”
Enrico looked at Ruggero, noticing him in the doorway. “You’re the witness.” He looked back at Antonio. “Tomorrow we assemble the underbosses and spread the word.” He clapped Antonio on the back. “There may be opposition, but I’ll make clear my feelings on the matter.” He looked down at Dom’s lifeless body. “I don’t want to be forced to kill my godsons. No one must know of Dom’s betrayal or the price he paid for it. I’ll swear Kate to secrecy. We four must be the only ones to ever know.”
“What about Dario?” Antonio asked.
Enrico shrugged. “He’s unlikely to speak of it.”
Ruggero’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I hate loose ends.”
“As do I. But we must take the risk.” He turned to Antonio. “You know what to do with the body. Leave it where it’ll be found soon.”
Ruggero coughed to get attention. “What about Tommaso? Certainly Paolo mentioned what he saw when Dom took Kate.”
“I’ll speak to him. If he knows, he’ll swear to me.”
Ruggero still looked troubled. “What?” Enrico asked.
“You’re missing an opportunity to remind the men about loyalty. To remind them what happens to traitors.”
“I’ll tell them about Trucco. And that will provide a good reason for the choice of Antonio as Dom’s replacement.”
“Who’ll replace Trucco?” Antonio asked.
Enrico shook his head. “I’ll act as contabile until I find a suitable replacement.”
“It is done then,” Ruggero said, his voice soft.
A smile creased Enrico’s face and he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “And we all survived. I wasn’t sure we would.”
Antonio looked at Enrico, his face shining with admiration. “I never doubted you, Don Lucchesi.”
Enrico chuckled. “Then you are the only one.” He caught sight of Dom again, slumped in the chair, his open eyes staring, blood dripping down his chest. Enrico’s grin faded. He could have been in Dom’s place, would have been if Dom’s plan had succeeded. And yet….
Killer Romances Page 37