by S. W. Frank
“Let me show you the enemy I can be.” Ivan sneered. He waved his gun and the guards began firing
Kenya gripped Giuseppe’s arm, digging broken nails into his sleeve, thinking they were soon to die. However it was Viyachov's guests that dined on Ivan’s deadly treachery.
Their bodies jerked in a sickening dance, convulsing as bullets tore through skin. Glasses shattered as the descendants of an ancient contract were mercilessly executed.
Giuseppe peered at the lifeless figures, and then to Ivan.
Food at the low budget Russian la Cupola might have been nice.
Giuseppe’s leg muscle relaxed, when Kenya’s fingers curled tightly on his wrist and she sought his attention. “Think of my sister, let us go and return with guns and make him eat the bullets.”
Giuseppe gazed at the slip of a thing and noticed her dark irises flickered. The vibrancy rivaled his intense cobalt hue. A Russian as an ally was a disturbing notion.
He nodded; he would not put Katia in further danger.
However, Ivan had written his death ticket.
Si!
• • • • • •
With his head reclined on the flight home, Giuseppe stared into luminous clouds, hungry and in despair.
The thin girl held his arms with both hands, failing to release him even as she slept. He shook his head in disbelief that his travel to Russia for an accord had resulted in a bad trade agreement.
He noticed Kenya’s bruises.
Purplish discolorations on her cheeks, throat and arms were hard to miss. She fought out of necessity, he surmised and his lip curled in disgust at abusive men.
He hated Ivan. He represented the Russia his Papa said was ripe with common thieves and cold people.
Giuseppe rested his head on the soft seat, dreading an inevitable task.
The meeting was a debacle. Nico of course would certainly learn from the security. They reported every damn thing to the insufferable man.
The caress to his arm brought him stiffly erect.
“Trev, I am so happy.” Kenya crooned in her sleep.
He flexed his bicep, shoving her away and she awoke with brilliant eyes in a haze of love.
That is until Giuseppe reminded her of the hard reality and snatched his Papa’s ring from her thumb. “You drool, girl.”
She wiped her mouth and peered at him with gratitude. “Thank you Giuseppe Dichenzo for not tossing me out of the plane.” Then she grinned and dammit, he observed potential. “They were not going to allow you to live. I heard them tell Ivan to kill you. Ivan wanted my Papa’s power more than an allegiance with others. He wants to prove he is a leader that is why he wants to fight the Don he has heard about.” She looked upon herself. “This dress is ugly. I would never have chosen this to wear at my wedding to Trev.”
Another psycho, but this one was Russian. He groaned miserably.
It’s true a woman is a man’s undoing. Yet, a man cannot survive without their nourishment. Like a colicky baby, he yearned for a woman’s tit to suckle as she talked incessantly about saving Katia from the abusive Russian.
Giuseppe grumbled and turned his head to stare into the hellish beyond. He did not tell the loquacious girl that if Alfonzo chose to forego a meeting with the stronzo, Katia would die. That was the unspoken message.
Kenya clapped when she saw the topography of Sicily as the jet descended. She had leaned over his lap to gawk at the scenic view of the ancient cities. Her eyes sparkled in awe.
“It is beautiful. I will love it here.”
This Russian girl will talk me to death –aye I am fucked!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ari caressed Nico’s wet back. His muscles were smooth rock and she held on, screaming in her parent’s Connecticut home like a banshee.
Sergio had arrived with his family earlier in the day and her mother insisted they take a trip to visit her sister on Long Island. Yet, she demanded Nico and Ari stay behind. Ari suspected her parents were ecstatic to show off their grandchildren and didn’t want the parents around scolding them for spoiling the kids, too much.
They had waved ‘hurry up and get outta’ here ya’ll’ from the doorway with smiles. Sergio drove her dad’s SUV with his family and the older boys, while her dad carried Anita and the younger children in his wife’s minivan, which she used to haul plants and groceries.
As soon as the vehicles disappeared from sight, they ran into the house to take advantage of the quiet.
The shower pummeled the basin at full blast. Usually, Ari would have found the rough sex pleasurable but when Nico’s head bent to her breasts and his mouth clamped hold while he impaled her to the tiles, bumping her ass too hard, she slapped and clawed his skin. When Nico zones out, he doesn’t feel pain. She figured he was in a depressed mood, but Ari snapped his ass out of it quick with sharp slaps to his cheek.
His head snapped up. “Goddammit Ari!”
Heavy breaths hit his face. The jackhammer actions of his anaconda had resulted in uncontrollable pussy spasms. However, her ass hurt. He broke the wall tiles and a jagged piece cut her bottom. There’s nothing pleasurable in sex when anger’s involved or her butt starts bleeding.
“Goddammit Nico, put me down!”
He withdrew with a grumble, and spun to rinse the mingled fluids to the drain. He pressed a palm to the wall beside the shower spout and dropped his head.
The water beat at his dark hair. His skin glistened, highlighting the cuts and gunshot wounds that left hieroglyphics about his hard living.
“Mi dispiace sweetheart,” he said to the drain.
Ari held her stomach, trying to peer at the damage to her ass. Darn, she hissed, on top of busting her face, now she’d feel the injury of love on her ass. Whatever, was going on with Nico, she planned to hear from his mouth.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He didn’t answer. The splashing water covered his anguish. He snatched a towel from the rod and stepped from the stall wrapping the cloth around his waist. He halted at the sink to dry and apply deodorant and lotion.
She noticed he watched her the mirror as she rinsed her twat and then turn to clean the cut on her butt. His eyes lowered to the sink and she nearly cried at his pain-stricken expression.
Dammit Nico, don’t go dark on me, she prayed.
Years of his troubled heart gave her an ache.
He exited the bathroom before she grabbed her towel unable to swallow the possibility that Nico might renege on his pledge.
She burst into the bedroom and discovered him there, just sitting in the dark. When she flipped on the light, he didn’t look up when he said, “I can’t do this Ari. I want to stay but I can’t. There’s too –”
The bullet hit her and she dropped beside him, gutted and deflated.
Ari lifted her chin, patting his knee and cutting him off. “I know…I know…you gave it your best shot. I know you did.” She sucked in the courage from the house where a couple married over forty years lived. “I’m not going to lie. I don’t want to quote poetry or romanticize about dead renaissance masters. That isn’t who I am and you always respected that. You never tried to change me and I don’t want to change you, neither. Selange filled that void and I’m perfectly okay with you having a platonic friendship with her to that degree because I trust you…both of you.
I do understand we meet people with common interests and form bonds. Don’ get me wrong, I’m not saying we go backwards to having an open sexual relationship, only that you don’t need to hide how much you appreciate the arts. The only reason I like classical music to be honest is the direct benefit I get in bed.” She continued, despite Nico’s quizzical gaze. “After work I looked forward to seeing Nate, the guy at the deli near my apartment. He was funny as hell and I swear he could make me laugh so hard I’d forget about losing a case or the rough day I had. Gene, oh my god –Gene he was an intellectual legal freak…wow how I admired that brain.”
Nico squinted. “Ari, what the hell
are you talking about?” He ran his fingers through his damp hair and held the shiny locks. “Ah, sweetheart, if you had allowed me to finish, I’d have told you, that I wasn’t able to stay the rest of the week here at your parents. I’m mad as hell because I wanted to, but whenever I sit my ass down and allow the guys to do their own thing, they get in a mess of trouble. They’re ill equipped to do my job. They aren’t calling me to put the proper people in place or nothing.” He noticed the relief flooding her face. He shook his head in exasperation and chuckled. “Open marriage isn’t us anymore, get the fuck outta’ here.” Then he kissed her and made love to his wife, gentler on a soft bed, rubbing her ass with a firm apology.
• • • • • •
Greece.
The soil Vincenzo ‘Vin’ Serano loved as much as Sicily.
His twin stood in the arcing light that hit the rocks in the land that inspired some of the world’s most entertaining mythology.
Nico, the surviving twin halted. He told Lorenzo to bring his stuff and meet him at the pier with Diane, oh, that’s right, he thought, my nephew likes the name Chocolate.
Lorenzo was being uncooperative. He wanted to stay in Greece and Nico wasn’t having it.
“Go on to the boat over there,” he instructed Chocolate.
She looked to Lorenzo.
“What the fuck you looking at him for? He’s coming, now go!”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to either of us.”
“Get used to it. Now do as I say.” He pointed like a father talking to a child.
“Thios Nico, watch it.”
“Or what?” Nico bumped Lorenzo’s chest.
“I do not fight seniors.”
“I do.”
“You are worse than my Pappoús.”
“I consider that a compliment. Let’s go.”
“To Sicily, although I have a home.”
“To Sicily for the time-being. You have shitty security and all the firepower in the world won’t matter if you have to fend off several armed intruders by yourself.”
“I’ve managed.”
“Sheesh.” Nico scoffed and started toward the boat.
Lorenzo fell in step. “What is your problem?”
“You don’t listen,” Nico stated.
“Get used to it.”
Nico sighed exasperatedly as they walked the length of the pier on the coast of Greece. At the edge of the dock was Alberti’s yacht, waiting to sail them to Palermo and Lorenzo was ruining the maritime outing.
Chocolate stood on deck, peering into the Mediterranean as the men approached.
“You put yourself out there for her. What the fuck do you know about that woman, other than what she’s told you?”
“I know that she required help.”
“Well, let me help you out. She’s a prostitute –fact one. Fact two, there’s an alleged book that you haven’t seen and likely doesn’t exist. Fact three, you brought heat on the mob for that brazen hit. All because you wanted to help a stranger, you’re screwing. I told you not to take the shot until the target is on the brick. You wounded a patron and top it off; a goddamn reporter might’ve seen you.”
“How do you know this?” Lorenzo pat his pant pocket for a smoke. He had none. Bad habits die hard, he supposed.
“An insider.”
“I will take care of it.”
“No, you’ll be in Sicily on that boat with your little girlfriend and a professional will clean up your mess.”
Lorenzo sniffed indignantly at Nico’s assessment. “You come into my life and think you can tell me what I can and cannot do. No offense, Thios, but you can fuck off!”
Nico socked the cocky attitude right out of his mouth.
Lorenzo had absorbed the hit, and turned his face before Nico’s fist collided with his teeth. He then spit on the plank. “You punch like an old man.”
Nico glowered at the cazzo. “Here’s another tip from an old man. You see that woman you barely know; well she’s pregnant shithead. Nice going, knocking up a hooker.”
Lorenzo wiped his mouth as Nico stormed toward the boat, wondering if Nico spoke the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The medicine ball rolled around and around in Alfonzo’s sweaty palm. The metal sphere twisted in hypnotic fashion by deft fingers after a grueling exercise routine.
It was the middle of the week. After an important call from Nico, he’d flown home with his wife to schedule an impromptu meeting. However, Giuseppe the sonovabitch hadn’t answered his cell. When he finally responded, Alfonzo demanded they meet at his office in the morning.
Meanwhile, he sought to keep a stoic presence for his babe, although his family was falling apart.
He wanted to stay in New York until the end of the week to bring the children home but in light of the smidgeon of information Nico told him, they were better off in Connecticut for the time being until he was certain there wouldn’t be any retaliation from the Russians.
He had already received several inquiries into his so-called alliance with a motherfucker he never heard of named Ivan Zvorsky, which he attributed to Giuseppe’s epic fail at diplomacy.
Alfonzo was calm as a motherfuck, although his clothes were drenched from a recent workout.
The Russian assert his position by the rubout of the international smugglers.
The problem, Boris Romanov detested Gorgei Viyachov. He and Ivan were despots and their alliance expanded their stronghold to every corner of Russia. Boris had always wanted into the commodities market, technology and the multibillion development projects. That is where most of Alfonzo’s interests lie.
Before he proceeded with counter measures, he needed to talk with his brother and learn exactly what happened.
Alfonzo sighed.
Selange rushed into the exercise room in a state of panic and only his eyes reacted to her exclamation.
“Al, oh my god, Anita just called. Her son was murdered. His ex-wife said the police just notified her although it happened Saturday!”
“Nah –what?” Alfonzo replied from his seat on the weight-press bench. “For real babe?”
“Ari went with Anita to the morgue to meet up with her family. This is crazy, we were recently there.”
“Yup, that is real crazy, word,” Alfonzo, stated in a monotone voice devoid of emotion.
“I called your mom. She’s putting Anita and the family up during their stay. I told Anita she doesn't have to worry about the funeral costs because we’ll pay for everything.” She took a breath, and leaned on the wall. She hadn’t cried for herself, but she shed tears for Anita. She cupped her mouth and shook her head in dismay. “Poor Anita…I’m sick.”
Alfonzo dropped the metal ball in the basket at his feet and rose to embrace his wife. “Come here babe…tranquillo…it’ll be okay.”
She sobbed on his sweaty chest. He rocked her in his arms; thankful they caught the cancer early. Selange hadn't completely recovered. He didn't want the stress to cause a relapse.
“Babe, I’ll take care of everything. I want you to take it easy. You can’t take on the world’s problems chica.”
He cupped her face, staring intently in her brown eyes and smiled as the shine highlighted the hazel. “Promise me you’ll focus on yourself.”
She sniffled, and Alfonzo hated the sadness permeating from the optimistic woman. She spent her birthday in the hospital getting best wishes from the children and people that had no idea about her scare.
Man, the greatest gift was her life he cheered and then he kissed her lips, and groaned as he detached, because he was forever grateful she had beat a battle alone.
She gazed at him. “I adore you.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head as if she was in church listening to a poignant sermon. “I am so lucky…so…so…blessed to have you in my life,” she whispered”
When she trembled violently he held her tighter. He had gone to church services and had seen people touched by a word or the omni
potence of being in a spiritual building release their burdens. He gripped her as she wailed. Oh, his heart tore because he felt the break coming. Whether it was Anita’s loss or the tension of her ordeal that caused the eruption, he didn’t care. His strong arms held up his woman, that’s what Tio and life taught him about what it is to be a man.
“I don’t want to leave you and the kids…oh god…help me…I don’t want the cancer to return…Al…I never want the children to know…they don’t need to worry if I’m going to die.” She hiccupped. Everything she wanted to say, she tried to relay but couldn’t.
She tore him open as she clutched at his slippery skin with such desperation; he planted his legs to be both their posts.
“Then don’t leave me…stay para familia Amor until our ride is over.” He groaned into her crown of fluffy curls.
• • • • • •
An empty house that is usually overrun with boisterous children at bedtime can be eerie to a sad parent.
He had called his kids, feeling his face smile hearing their joyous voices before retiring.
Alfonzo had curtailed his drinking. He couldn’t sleep and watching every breath his wife took caused an excruciating pang to his chest when it shouldn’t, so he went to get a beer and settled in front of the house surveillance camera, watching the scene that brought him utmost devastation.
His mouth circled the neck of the beer bottle.
“I am so lucky…so…so…blessed to have you in my life…”
“Me, too,” he said in the darkness, tilting the bottle to pour brew over the scorching pain.
He watched his babe cry. Man oh man, and he couldn’t do anything to ease her suffering.
Why is it, he wondered, when everything seems to be going good for a change, the roof caves in?
He stood, thinking fatigue might have set in, but his limbs were overly hyperactive. Something in his gut nagged the shit out of him.
“Worries…worries…worries…been dogging my mind, since the day I was born,” he sang.
The case of beer went back with him to the seat. Having company beat drinking alone.