La Famiglia (Battaglia Mafia Series)

by Mynx, Sienna

She sniffed, wiped her tears with a shaky hand. Catalina said Mirabella owned a bracelet like the one she’s cherished. Proof. Gemma said that Mirabella possessed the evidence.

  “No. No it’s a lie.” She shook her head hard. She felt her sanity slip. It was as if the darkness in her life was slowly winning. “Not true. It’s not true,” she said.

  Someone knocked at the door. Marietta nearly jumped out of her skin. She wiped at her smeared mascara and managed to get to her feet. “Yes?” she answered.

  “Ciao! The Donna asked that I check on you. Do you need anything?” a voice inquired.

  “Go away!” Marietta shouted.

  Whoever it was walked off. Marietta’s gaze returned to the envelope. She looked away. “Call me, Lorenzo. Please, my love. Please,” she said trying to hold on to some hope. She forced herself to wait.

  * B *

  Carlo stood outside of the car. Lorenzo remained inside. He watched the few pedestrians strolling along the sidewalk in front of the church. They’d been waiting for close to an hour. Yeremian was a friend of the family, but in their world the definition of friend was always shifting. With Mottola now trying to cut deals with the `Ndrangheta and the Armenians, Lorenzo had to wonder if Alik was in on it. The meeting he’d asked for could be his last if Yeremian had decided so.

  He opened his car door to tell Carlo his suspicions when two passenger vans arrived. They boxed him and Carlo in. A dark window with tinted glass rolled down. “Get in!” a man said.

  Lorenzo and Carlo entered the vehicle without a word passing between them. The van sped off. Neither the man behind the wheel, nor the one on the passenger side spoke. Lorenzo glanced back to see the van following could have up to six or eight along for the ride. He glanced to Carlo. They exchanged a look to be ready no matter what was to come next.

  There were brutal men and crime families across the globe and they’ve dealt with many. But the Armenians were different. They lived by a code unmatched by any other. Like the Camorra they had clans and clan bosses who ruled by regions. They were known as the ‘Akhperutyuns’. Most of the clan bosses learned and organized the rules of their brotherhood in Russian and Turkish prison camps. Each clan could be recognized for their ruthless and often sadistic forms of torture. Having the Akhperutyuns as allies after Mottola’s betrayal was a must. Having them as an enemy would be an entirely different matter.

  They drove out of the city toward the mountains. Lorenzo reflected on his last visit and how many times he had put his life on the line for the family. Now he did care to live. He had someone to live for. It gave him a perspective he rarely accepted in his life. The silent buzz of his beeper in his pocket vibrated once more. He removed the pager to see it was Marietta.

  He frowned with concern.

  * B *

  “Damn you!” Marietta yanked the phone from the wall and threw it across the room. “Damn you, Lorenzo-Asshole-Battaglia! Damn you to hell!” she yelled.

  Marietta didn’t care who heard her. The truth sank like a steel blade into her heart. Never had a betrayal of anyone in her life hurt so badly. Desperate for relief she marched over to the bed and threw herself on it. She rolled away and her eyes fastened to the letter. Marietta squeezed her eyes shut. To read it would only make her suffering worse. To ignore it would only prolong the inevitable. She sat up and snatched letter. Through a veil of tears she opened it.

  Marietta,

  When I learned you had arrived in Sicily I came. I’ve been in Milano for months waiting to hear from you. In my heart I knew this is where I would find you. I write this letter in haste to get the news to you. My prayer is you will believe and forgive me for all that I have kept from you.

  I’ve closely guarded the secret of who you are for years. Not to hurt you, or deny you, but to protect you. I had hoped that what Capriccio and I did would keep you far away from the people who harmed your mother.

  It has gone beyond that now.

  First, I must confess who your mother is. Her name was Melissa Ellison. We called her Lisa. And yes, I lied to you, I knew her well before she died. The question I must answer for you is why I kept her identity a secret. Lisa was a sweet generous girl when I knew her. She hated and feared a man named Marsuvio Mancini. He was and still is an evil Sicilian monster who went by the name Manny Cigars. He terrorized many people in Philadelphia, black or white, it didn’t matter. He stole your mother from her family and kept her with him for years. He put her on drugs. He raped and brutalized her until she had nothing in her life to hope for.

  I first met your mother at a club Manny owned. She was a very shy, very nice girl. She had the voice of an angel. She used to sing, and sew costumes for us girls who did other things for Manny Cigars and his men. Until she gave birth to you and everything changed.

  I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead. This is important for you to understand, Marietta. Your mother was murdered. A contract was put out on her life, yours, and your twin sister Mirabella Ellison. I’m sorry to have kept this from you. I was the one that helped hide Lisa from the Sicilians. I was the one that kept your identity secret along with your birth father. Capriccio and I only wanted to make sure that the Battaglias and Mancinis never knew you lived. Mirabella was given to her grandparents. She does not know she has a twin sister. She never knew her mother’s story.

  I know this is confusing. There is so much more to this story to tell. But for now you have to get out of Sicilia. You have to get away from these people. Don Giovanni knows who you are. Lorenzo Battaglia only married you to control you. He will kill you, Marietta. Please heed my warning.

  If you doubt what I am saying then seek proof. Mirabella owned a bracelet. A childs’ bracelet. I don’t know if she keeps it still but she owned it at one time. Show her your necklace. Ask her the name of her mother. And then give her this letter. But leave.

  Call me. I will help you Marietta. I swear it on my life.

  Forgive me,

  Gemma

  Marietta turned the letter over and read the number scribbled on the back. There had been so many lies. All her life she had been lied to. And Gemma was now the queen of lies. How many times had she wept against her breast after suffering so much physical and mental abuse from her adoptive father? How many times had she begged Gemma to help her find her mother? What about the trip to Milano? What about the hunt for a father by the name of Capriccio? What about the fake birth certificate that sent her on a wild goose chase? A lie. All orchestrated by Gemma way before she met Lorenzo.

  She could trust no one.

  Except Mirabella. Her sister was being deceived. Marietta dropped over to the bed and closed her eyes. She clutched the letter to her chest and wept.

  * B *

  Mountainous hamlets were accessible out of the city of Yerevan through long winding unpaved roads. Most of the journey was a bumping, jostling ride. Lorenzo swallowed his lunch and suppressed the nausea of carsickness. They passed pastures of cows, and bulls with horns herded by farmers. The remote location, decrepit living shacks and thinning herds was a product of the villagers’ descent into poverty after the end of Soviet rule.

  Men like Alik Yeremian lived in the impoverished terrain, such as, Khoznavar like Kings while those around them suffered. Alik’s legitimate business doled out machinery and farm animals to the villagers to produce milk, cheese, and sour cream to be sold and profited upon by him solely. The villagers’ were only able to scrape by with feeding their families.

  The stone houses that peppered the landscape were small and unassuming. When they arrived at the tall gates of Yeremian’s private territory men with guns flagged them in. They drove in to progress on a newly paved circular drive. A prosperous three-story mansion greeted them. The gates to the old brick fort, which guarded such a lascivious monument to wealth was once again sealed.

  “Alik has done well for himself,” Carlo whispered.

  Lorenzo nodded with worry. He wondered if Giovanni realized the extent of Alik’s prosperity. “I’ll do t
he talking,” Lorenzo said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Carlo shrugged. He was a man of few words. In an engagement such as this it was always Lorenzo’s wits over Carlo’s brawn.

  Lorenzo opened his car door and left the vehicle. Two armed men greeted him, their guns leveled. He put up his hands as a third approached. He was searched for a gun or weapon. They found none. He and Carlo could not arm themselves properly on this impromptu trip. If they entered Turkey or Armenia with a weapon and were caught the consequences would be grave. So he allowed the search without complaint.

  The man grunted in his native tongue for Lorenzo to follow. He did. Carlo was held back. This did give Lorenzo pause. He didn’t want to be separated.

  “Parev Lorenzo! Intcbess es?” A voice boomed above. Alik stood at the top of the grey marble stairwell with his arms open in greeting. Alik Yeremian was at least five to six years older than Lorenzo. He was plainly dressed in green pleated baggy trousers a grey button down shirt and sneakers. “When Giovanni called and requested this visit I had hoped that he would accompany you.” Alik bounded down the steps with his hands shoved down into his trouser pant pockets.

  “Giovanni sends his regrets,” Lorenzo said. He embraced Alik and smiled. “What is with the welcome party?” Lorenzo half-chuckled at the others flanking him with guns. “Are the Battaglias no longer welcome in Armenia?”

  “Trouble.” Alik replied. “I have to be careful these days. Come. Let’s talk.” Alik dropped his arm around his shoulder. They walked off toward the left wing of the estate. The room they entered had all kinds of military monitoring equipment, and weaponry as if it were a command post for a small army. Lorenzo frowned.

  “Now you have me curious, Alik. What trouble are you facing?”

  “The same trouble at your door. A group of rebels who follow a man named Varo. He has started his own clan in the Akhperutyun in an attempt to overthrow me. He has ties now to the Camorra I’m told. This I learned after Giovanni informed me about his concerns over Mottola. So you see my concern.”

  Lorenzo exhaled. “Let me guess? Mottola wants to arm Varo in his fight against you.”

  “Ayo. And I hear he’s already done so. Men of mine have fallen thanks to the Camorra.” Alik walked away. “How does any of this happen on Giovanni’s watch?”

  Lorenzo’s gut clenched. Behind him a shadow drew closer. Lorenzo felt rather than saw the approaching danger. A man, possibly with a gun, drew closer. If the word was given a bullet would be launched into the back of Lorenzo’s skull. Alik’s friendly smile had been replaced with a malevolent glare. There were only seconds left to turning the conversation around. Lorenzo’s jaw went rigid tight, which made his voice stiff and unrepentant. “It has not gone unnoticed by Giovanni I assure you. Which is why I’m here. Mottola is one of the few clan bosses in the Neapolitan with an ego bigger than his might. Can you name a Battaglia who has helped him?”

  Alik shook his head slowly no.

  “I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  Alik didn’t appear convinced. The hard glare in his coal black irises made the hairs on Lorenzo’s nape stand on end. He couldn’t trust the situation further. If the Battaglias were tied to arming a rebel faction in the Akhperutyun, Alik had a right to be leery of them.

  “How shall we prove it?”

  “Prove it?” Alik smirked. “Why prove anything if you are not guilty?”

  “The guns are Giovanni’s. They come from his bay. We intend to rectify this matter. Prove our allegiance. Regain your trust. Stop Varo so we can bag our common enemy, Mottola. All I need to know is where to find this man?”

  Alik laughed. He gave a look to the assassin behind Lorenzo and the person drew away. Lorenzo resisted the urge to glance back over his shoulder to be sure the threat was gone. Alik began to pace with his hands clasped behind his back. “We haven’t been able to find the hole he scurries to. He and his men are constantly on the move near the mountains. The desert rat hides beyond my reach.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “Because he knows you search for him. If he is working with Camorra wouldn’t he be willing to let us in the door that is closed to you?”

  Alik stopped his pacing. A light of understanding flashed in his eyes. “It is dangerous to play this game here, Lorenzo. The republic is on the hunt for the Akhperutyuns. I cannot protect you. Nor am I inclined to risk the lives of my men.”

  “I assume all risk,” Lorenzo stated.

  “Yes. You will. Because if you fail we shall have another discussion. Are we clear?”

  “We are.” Lorenzo agreed.

  Alik’s gaze swept him. “What do you propose?”

  “To take his head. We only ask for a way out of this country when the job is done.”

  Alik stroked his beard. “We have been friends for many years. I will extend the trust to the Battaglias once more. I owe it to Giovanni. But let me be clear I won’t lift a finger to help you. And I want his head. Fail me? And I may be inclined to take yours if you survive the night.”

  Lorenzo nodded that he understood. “It’s a deal I want to make.”

  He didn’t know how he intended to pull it off. But he was certain of one thing, if he and Carlo wanted to leave the country alive they would have to.

  * B *

  “Thank you, baby,” Mira smiled. “I wanted her to sleep with us.”

  Mira fixed the sheet around Eve. Her daughter spit her pacifier out. She seized the moment to take it from Eve and placed it on her dresser. Eve’s lips puckered as if she still sucked it. She couldn’t get over how adorable her daughter was when she slept. Giovanni yawned before joining them. She reached over and ran her hand over his bare chest. It felt good to touch him again. She had half a mind to ask that he put Eve in her crib so she could lay with his arms around her.

  “You okay?” Mira asked, running her hand up and down his chest. His gaze lowered to her touch. Giovanni insisted on carrying her around the house. She thought it was cute. But she had to worry for his back. She weighed close to 190 pounds now.

  “I’m okay. It’s been a long day, Bella,” he replied. The look he gave her made her smile. He too felt it. The loneliness in their bed since sex was now off the menu. He didn’t mention it but every morning he woke with a hard-on.

  “This is nice, Giovanni,” Mira said. She caressed lower. Her fingers inched toward his groin. He caught her wrist and stopped her. Mira gave him a pout.

  “Don’t tease me, Bella,” he said with not a hint of humor in his eyes.

  She removed her hand. “Sorry.”

  He closed his eyes. Mira chewed on the inside of her jaw. She stared at her husband, and then her daughter. Her heart felt heavy with the burden she put upon them. Eve was crankier because she couldn’t hold her or tend to her needs personally. Giovanni constantly watched over her, neglecting his responsibilities. And they had close to two more months of this.

  “Giovanni?” she whispered.

  “Mmm?”

  “It feels nice to be here with you and Eve like this. I might get used to all the attention,” she said. “I feel a bit guilty over it though. Monopolizing you the way I have.”

  He opened his eyes. His gaze dropped left and the cool violet beauty of his eyes made her heart skip a beat. She loved him so much. Giovanni turned on his side. He kissed Eve’s fat jaw and then leaned over. Mira leaned over and kissed him. “Nothing is more important than giving you attention, Bella.”

  “You’ve been away from your business. That’s important. I know you are missed. I hate you have to sacrifice this way.”

  “As you sacrifice your business and dreams to bring my children into the world?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Yeah, I guess we both sacrifice.”

  “It’s what marriage is about. Compromise, sacrifice,” he said.

  “And love, don’t forget love,” Mira said.

  “How can I? When the love of my life reminds me of love every day,” he said.

  “I’m okay, though.
Really. If you need to be away for a day or two I can handle it.”

  He gave her a silencing look. Mira settled down to a smile. “Did you find a place for us in Palermo yet?” she asked.

  “I have two I’m considering. Waiting to hear if they are available.”

  Mira yawned and reached over to turn off the lamp. Giovanni placed Eve on his chest so he could ease closer to her. Mira turned on her side. She slept comfortably this way. She scooted back into him and rested her face against his shoulder and the inside cushion of his under arm. He rubbed her belly and folded his arm around her midriff to keep her close. This was what love felt like.

  “Night, sweetheart,” she said.

  “Good night, Bella,” he said.

  Mira drifted to sleep. She thought of Marietta. She wondered if their houseguest had eaten dinner. Mira made a mental note to check in on her personally in the morning.

  * B *

  Marietta’s eyelids parted. At some point in the night she fell asleep. The room was a shroud of darkness. She clutched in her hand the letter that had shattered her world. What should she do? Run? Confront the Battaglias? Confront and kill the man who made her believe he loved her? What?

  She closed her eyes once more. She had no options that would cure her of the pain. And that truth hurt most of all. Deep in her heart she truly did love Lorenzo. Now what was she left to do? She had never felt more alone.

  * B *

  “Are you going to sit there and watch the phone?” Isabella chuckled. Her voice split Gemma’s thoughts like fingernails on a chalkboard. When Gemma dared to lift her gaze to her nemesis she stared into the cold empty eyes of a ruthless bitch. One who had made her life a nightmare since the day it all began. She wondered how much of a strike she could deliver if she swiped the knife to the side of her plate across the evil bitch’s throat. She weighed her options as she spoke.

  “What you’ve done to Marietta is beyond cruel.”

  “Really? Telling her the truth is cruel? What about the lies you’ve told, Gemma?”

  With a burdened sigh Gemma averted her gaze back to the cold dinner plate before her. She fed herself with mechanical motions, barely tasting the food as she chewed. Isabella chuckled. She sipped her blood red wine and licked her glossy lips.