ATONEMENT (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  ***

  Marco smiled, “Got your attention, I see!” He was holding on to Selange, jerking her to her feet, squeezing hard on her arm and she winced.

  She noticed the dangerous glint in Nico’s eyes and wanted to reassure him she was fine. He shouldn’t feel sad, no, he was guiltless. This was her doing. Every bit her fault.

  The man with the broken wrist, Kyle, yeah that’s the name, sauntered over with the knives as Marco shoved her down on the couch. Nico’s hands were rebound and duct-tape covered his mouth again. They were making him watch. It was harsh; these were the actions of merciless men.

  Marco tenderly removed the tape from her lips and she smirked at his display of feigned kindness. “Your boyfriend fails to cooperate. He doesn’t truly care what we do to you. Pity, it comes to this.”

  Selange found peace. Calmed her thoughts, prepared her body for the pain. She would not beg for her life like a spineless fish. Instead, her chin lifted in defiance, “Nico’s right. You are a coward!”

  The slap resounded in the silent living-room. The stinging radiated from her face to her ears and blood trickled from her nose over the edge of her lip. Nico growled, the floor actually vibrated under his rage. He was roaring like a caged beast fighting to loosen his restraints. Selange sniffled the blood and tasted its blandness. Blood, now she had a purpose to kill, what she needed was an opportunity and it presented herself.

  The binds at her feet were slipping loose, none saw and she was glad.

  “You bleed bitch, so I suppose we each have flaws.”

  Stalling the short man she quipped, “Napoleon complexes plague many men of your stature. You’re flaw can’t be undone, a bloody nose can.”

  His fist raised then fell impotently to his side and he laughed. Pointed his finger in her face and exclaimed, “The whore has many jokes!” Then his mouth turned mocking, “I think before I slice you to pieces I will fuck, then Kyle will fuck you and when we’re done we’ll cut out your pussy!” He turned to Nico, “Tell us what we want to know. I promise to kill her quickly if you do!”

  Nico’s head drooped to his chest, he nodded.

  “Nico doesn’t know the location. It changed after Nico left. I would have told you if you asked nicely.” Selange bluffed.

  Marco appeared uncertain. He removed a long blade from his case. The instruments were oddly shaped and lethal. Some, Selange opined were similar to those surgeons used in operations –but Marco’s clumsy hands did not belong to a trained physician.

  Marco removed his coat, placed it beside her on the sofa and instructed Kyle to keep an eye on her. Gripping a thin long blade, he turned and walked to Nico. Without speech he shoved the sharp steel straight into Nico’s thigh and Nico sat there, unflinching under the pain. Selange hiccupped a cry as the sadistic man, twisted and twisted trying to get a reaction from Nico but instead received a cold glare. Nico’s eyes were squinted, the message he sent, clear as day. ‘You’re a dead man!’

  Foolishly, Marco did not heed the threat. Why should he? He was the man in control and the formidable Nico Serano…helpless!

  The pain was good, Nico thought. He suffered worse torture, once. Only one other man caused him pain, it was part of the training and he was a child, then. The icy water freezing his flesh was far more painful to an eight year-old boy. He saw his father, the man he loved, assuring him one day he would understand the need for his cruelty. Nico sank beneath the frozen lake, reaching out for help until his body numbed and he felt nothing, not even the beat of his heart. He hated his father for hurting him, –but later appreciated the lessons. They saved him many times from breaking as less disciplined and fragile minds do under acts of torture. Mental strength far exceeds the physical.

  His eyes remained trained on Marco’s face, memorizing every line and indentation. The scar, a half-moon shape came from the jagged edge of Gina’s wine glass. He was there the day she cut him, yet he always returned, an addict to her abuse. Nico smiled, Marco was pitiful, he also had no idea what to do with those tools but when Nico got free...and he would…he’d show him!

  Nico hadn’t expected what came next. Perhaps he should have. He’d forgotten Selange’s spitfire in hours of adversity. He smiled when he saw her hands come free and in a lightning flash she got one of the knives then plunged it into punk-ass’ neck. She yanked it out and blood spurt from the wound across her clothes. Her feet were quick and she was at Marco’s back, almost…there…then…Marco turned.

  Marco grabbed her and flung her down. She landed behind Nico’s chair still clutching the knife. Nico felt the blade cut at his hands then she scrambled under the chair cutting him free. Nico Jumped to his feet, caught Marco in a chokehold, pulled the rod from his leg and impaled it in Marco’s spine. He thought of his little warrior and took a mental note to thank her properly but right now he’d teach Marco how to properly use the tools!

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sophie watched the men leave, wringing her hands. She had no idea where Nico had taken Selange and could not help Alfonzo on this. Her loyalty to her nephew prevented her from telling Alfonzo she’d called Nico, worried about Selange’s lack of appetite and her obvious signs of pregnancy. How anyone missed the symptoms were far beyond her understanding. Nico confirmed her suspicion. He told her everything and it pained to see his suffering. Nico was never like his brother Vincent. They were twins in appearance only; their hearts were individual organs, their souls belonged to separate men. Vincent wanted to join the family business, Nico preferred studies and languages. When he was small she saw how he shied away from the guns or wrinkled his nose when forced to skin the live chickens. His father, her brother did an injustice to the boy, giving him no choice in the direction of his life, no wonder he disappeared over the years, returning only when summoned. She wondered where he went during those absences, contracts, of course –but only recently she learned he had a family and twin boys. Alberti told her, he also admitted he felt guilty he may have contributed to their estrangement. Poor Nico. She wanted him to have a little happiness in this world and this is partially why she helped her nephew.

  She could see the love for Selange in his body language. The eyes would not always show it but there were other forms of communication equally readable. He stood protectively close to the woman, his torso leaning in her direction as if being drawn to a force so great; it took all his strength to propel. She saw it when he hugged her the first night, breathing in the joy of their connection and she saw it in the non-verbal slant of his sensual mouth that was usually firm and unsmiling.

  Her heart wept for Nico. He deserved love. He deserved happiness.

  “Mama, are you crying, did they find Selange?”

  She turned to face her beautiful daughter. The young woman would soon become a bride and one day a mother. Seeing the happiness she shared with Matteo was an inspiration. Ah, she missed her husband. Carlo was a wonderful husband, a man with dark confidences, nonetheless, she loved him. He often talked about Amelda’s wedding day, wondered if his wayward daughter would ever find a man to match her spiritedness. He did not live to see she had. Carlo would not be here to walk her down the aisle on this most important of days. In his place, Alberti would have the honor. She touched her chest, “They have not found her but Alfonzo is using her phone to track her whereabouts.”

  Amelda frowned, “I wish my father were here. This would not have happened days before my wedding.”

  The sentiment brought a tear, “Oh, cosí faccio…so do I!

  ***

  Kim-Sung and Constantine were look-outs. The men insisted on it and to ensure they did not leave, the car keys were removed. It was late morning and certainly her absence was noted by now. She could not go back, this was her husband’s fault. The drinking and carousing brought them to this.

  Constantine said nothing, he was beyond conversation. Unless, a miracle occurred, he would have to leave the country and hide in some obscure section of the world –but even then, his days were numbered. Gius
eppe, Alfonzo and others were certain to find him no matter where he hid. The men inside were not professional killers, nor were they members of La Costra Nostra. They were extortionists, men with greed but nothing more. They were dangerous for this reason, certainly they had to know, kidnapping the wife of Don Alfonzo would speed their deaths. This list they sought was it so important they would risk their lives?

  He noticed dirt kicking up in the distance and got out the car. His wife followed and he pointed to the thicket of brush, “Go, hide. I’m sorry to have brought you into this.”

  Her slanted eyes were devoid of sorrow. All men were sorry when faced with the end. The moment he told her of his troubles she planned for her escape and now with the certainty of fate, she’d be free again. This time, she would not sell her body to men. With her husband’s collection of cash, she planned to have men servicing her needs, regularly. Of course, she obeyed his order, gladly leaving him there with his gun and silly pride. She wasn’t stupid. Even if she stayed at his side, the duo would not ward off the hell storm coming. Instead of hiding as told, Kim-Sung scurried through the thickets and disappeared.

  ***

  He told Selange to go in the kitchen and cover her ears. When it was over he would come. Her hands were pressed tightly to her head, but she could still hear the piercing screams coming from Marco. The method of torture Nico employed was far more excruciating then she imagined. When he did come and hold her, she trembled. He was hurt, his face a bloody mess, his leg wound covered but it too bled through. The entire ordeal left her emotionally spent.

  “Turn around!”

  They both stiffened at the command. Kyle and Marco were dead. The third man must be their look-out and the screams brought his curious inspection. Nico turned, slightly limping, holding Selange tightly to his side. He came face-to-face with the voice and could not hide his disappointment. “Constantine, what business do you have in this?”

  Constantine aimed the gun at Nico’s head, “Sort of got myself in a jam and I couldn’t kill my way out of it. They were blackmailing me.”

  Nico frowned. Constantine’s alcohol abuse over the years had begun to affect his judgment. He could be found in the company of prostitutes or in bars picking fights with patrons and alienating friends. A man with liquor as a mistress was an unpredictable man. Whatever trouble Constantine found himself in was undoubtedly the result of his secret whore. Nico didn’t care to know the details, as far as he was concerned, Constantine was the lowest of turncoats.

  “By the way I admired your handiwork on the way in. True art. You were always so…let me think…creative and thorough.”

  “It’s my repayment for their botched attempt at interrogation. If you’re going to torture a man, do it right.”

  Constantine waved the gun, “Enough small talk old buddy, send the girl to me.”

  “Sorry, can’t. She’s having a bad day and so am I.”

  “Nico, I’m not going to harm her. I need a little collateral, that’s all.”

  “No.”

  Selange suddenly stepped forward before Constantine fired, “Okay..okay!”

  Nico moved toward her and Constantine shot the floor near his foot and grabbed Selange around the neck, “Move again Nico and I’ll have no other choice but to shoot you.”

  Nico backed off. Constantine was not an inept bumbling idiot like Marco. He would put a bullet in her head without hesitation. There came a massive throbbing in his leg. The femur was the largest bone in the human body and extremely vascular. Marco had gotten lucky, it seemed. Nico suddenly became weak and leaned his back on the fridge for support.

  ‘Damn Selange, why are you trying to save my ass?’ He wondered. She always worried about other people; a nurturer through and through. Motherhood suited her, it came naturally. Thinking about it all, he couldn’t let her make yet another sacrifice. He didn’t have much energy but he had enough to take on Constantine. Time to get this over with; he had a meeting in Hades. He sucked in air then went for it. He grinned then lunged at Constantine and knocked him into the stove but the force wasn’t enough to dislodge the weapon. The blast sent Nico crashing against the refrigerator door and he slid downward covered in blood to the floor.

  Selange screamed, hollered and kicked at her captor. Her arms reached to Nico; he didn’t reach back. He didn’t do anything except lie there. An unexpected boom followed by a door striking the wall caused her to jump. Constantine took hold of her waist, swiveling her in front of him again and rested his chin on the top of her head. Selange felt the inward and outward motion of his chest. They weren’t panicked or rapid; they were rather controlled. “Shhhh.” He whispered, waiting for the men to enter in order to pick them off like ducks.

  Constantine possessed the element of surprise. Selange could not let the men walk into the ambush. She screamed a warning, “Go back…go back!”

  Except, her warning came too late. Alfonzo and Vincent were inside.

  Bullets whizzed by. The whooshing noise and heat familiarly close. It seemed living had become a daily hazard. She didn’t shut her eyes; she wanted to except she had to see whether Alfonzo had been one of the casualties. The saddest part is always recognizing some tragic outcomes are avoidable and had she not come, or perhaps fought harder against her desires, the tragedy unfolding would not exist. Personal actions can determine the course of things and for this alone, Vincent and Nico’s death lay at her door.

  Her eyes stung and tears spilled over as Vincent toppled to the floor. The blood had splattered; she witnessed it in slow motion. Vincent turned, his arm moved, no she thinks he hesitated when he saw her, then a bloody hole formed on his forehead. The hair, right at the back of his head fanned up and blood mixed with brain matter shot outward. She saw it and it was real.

  Her scream was deafening. She was watching Nico die in replay except this wasn’t Nico, was it? The result was still the same and she screamed, “Vin…..cent…Vincent…no…God…help me…Vincent…please…Vincent…don’t die…no…noooooooooo!”

  Alfonzo rolled away from Vincent. This was the last time Vincent would push him out of harm’s way. Alfonzo’s reflexes were quick, he’d seen the man holding Selange, yet Vincent had to do it. The unnecessary shoving shit, instead of diving for cover and this was the cost of it. Overzealous and overprotective crazy sonovabitch!

  Selange was distraught, in a manic state of shock. There was blood on her clothes and she was being manhandled by the piece of shit that shot Vincent. He used her as a personal shield, the pendejo!

  Alfonzo’s hand steadied, he wouldn’t get a second chance at this. He peered at his men; they had their guns drawn and were hanging back away from the line of fire. They didn’t enter because Alfonzo quickly gestured for them to stay put. He didn’t want anyone firing indiscriminately and strike his wife. No, he had this…he’d end it, his way. He made a sign of the cross, leaped to his feet from behind his fallen friend, zeroed in on the spot above Selange’s hair and fired. The bullet smashed straight through Constantine’s eye and he bumped the wall like a pinball then slid down it, painting a red line as he descended.

  Selange stood immobile, a life-size statue of hysteria. The sight of Vincent, the corpses, Marco in particular tied to a chair with what looked like sewing needles protruding from both eye sockets presented a grisly scene. This was Nico’s last act of retribution. Sickened from the carnage she dropped to the floor, palms pressed to the floor and retched.

  Alfonzo rushed to her side. He got on his knees, tenderly circled her waist, breathing love, holding her protectively and whispering comforting words, although he mourned for Vincent, he was glad she was safe. His ribcage compressed from the loss. He’d had so much and so did she. It hurt like hell to think about Vincent and he battled through the grime to find a place that was clear. He couldn’t bring Vincent back, shit he wished he could but death is a reality of life. Some were uglier than others, some sudden and undeserved. Atonement, yeah, everybody’s time is due. His was coming, it’s inevit
able, and nobody gets a free pass on sin!

  Selange hiccupped guilt. She killed Vincent…she did it…and she deserved this suffering. Her head flopped and more illness came. She cried and vomited all at once. Then someone shouted, “Nico’s down, he’s shot!”

  The mayhem and its aftermath became overwhelming. She couldn’t absorb anymore and leaned backward on her husband’s solid torso. He tried to calm her but her chest heaved too rapidly. She gripped his wrist in desperation, Nico’s warning blared in her head. “This isn’t about me or Alfonzo anymore, you got to take care of the baby…fight for that!”

  Her thoughts began to fog but she managed to pant, “Ho-spi-tal, preg-nant,” before she blacked out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Alberti paced the hospital corridors of the Trauma Room. His thoughts were murderous and the wait for news of Nico’s condition, a test of his patience. He’d flown to Milan the moment he got the call. He’d planned to speak with Nico about what he discovered regarding the man he killed and his connection to Constantine and other matters, but apparently he was too late. He inhaled heated air. He craved a cigar, one puff would do, however the smoking rules were strictly enforced and this once he would obey the dreaded policy.

  After an eternity of this waiting business a surgeon emerged, his face glum and severe. Alberti allowed him to speak first, “Signore Serano is out of surgery. We will move him to ICU shortly, but-”

  “But, what, medico?”