“Salvatore. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I say directly into the phone. There are a few moments of silence and nothing is said to me on the other line. “Salvatore?”
“Sorry, Mikel. It’s Aria. I’m borrowing Sal’s phone so I could get in touch with you,” Aria . . . that’s Salvatore’s wife, Marcellus’ sister. “Listen, I can’t talk for long. I brought the children to see my mother and I overheard her talking to my uncle.”
“Why is the ramblings within your family important to me?” I question, putting a decent sized portion of my eggs into my mouth.
“Don’t be stupid, Mikel. You know who my uncle is, on my mother’s side.” I think for a few moments but nothing immediately comes to mind.
“Please give me a gentle reminder. I’m afraid the coffee hasn’t sunken in my system yet.”
“Gabriele DiGiovanni,” The tone of her voice gets lower before she goes completely silent. “Listen, I can’t be long. She’s expecting me back in there any moment. There was a brief mention of my uncle working with a militia group just outside of Pietermaritzburg. If my memory is correct, that’s where you’re located.”
“It is,” I confirm.
“I doubt she knew I heard it, but he mentioned something about a fire on a school going to plan. Wasn’t there a school of ours that burned not too long ago?”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “Yes. Thank you for this information. I appreciate it. If you could keep me in the loop if you hear anything else useful I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
“Aria, you said you’d only be a minute! Where are you? The children want to play.” I hear an elderly woman’s voice calling from the background.
“Shit. I have to go.” Aria disconnects the call.
Right as the call with Aria ends I’m calling Ion Petran, the king of the Romanian Clans. He’s the head honcho in charge besides his wife, Mariana.
“Mikel. Do you know what time it is?” He hisses, sounding rather groggy. I’m certain I just woke him up from a blissful sleep.
“I apologize for calling you so early, though I do think we need to have a chat. I just received a tip that Gabriele DiGiovanni is working here with a militia group. Would you happen to have confirmation of that?”
Ion grumbles on the other end, “The last time I got a response from our scout, he followed him to France.”
“Is it possible the Italians got to your scout?” I question, not wanting to poke the bear, but we have to go down every possible scenario. It’s not like this hasn’t happened in the past before.
“Who’s your source?”
“A trusted individual. You know I don’t share my sources unless absolutely necessary. Now, we’ve had the Italians on our radar for quite a while. I know why we haven’t acted after we received confirmation Gabriele ordered the hit on Mariana, because they’re the biggest mafia network besides ourselves. We have to act in a smart manner, and not irrationally like dumb boys. I’ve been having someone report my diamond operation to the local authorities. Luckily, I have a few of them in my pocket and they give us enough notice to clean up the area and look like nothing is going on. At this point, the locals believe this is a prank caller. I had a list of a few potential suspects I thought it could be, but now that I’ve heard this it only makes sense. Gabriele is trying to fuck with our operations, Ion.” I can’t help but allow my anger to seep through. I’ve never liked the Italians, even before Mariana’s attempted assassination attempt, they always have irritated me.
“We will get to the bottom of this, Mikel. Give me some time to get some solid information. In the meantime, keep an eye out and notify me if anything changes.” Ion ends the call and I place my phone back on the table and take in a deep breath.
Gabriele is starting a war, and it’s one he won’t win.
Chapter Nineteen
Mikel
Scotch. It’s practically become my best friend at this point. It’s here for me when I need something to talk to, without wanting someone talking back. It takes the pain away long enough for me to get a decent night of sleep, only to regret it the following morning. I’m afraid I can’t drink the same way I used to in my early twenties or thirties. Now, I sit here staring at the amber colored drink, wondering if I’m going to go down the same rabbit hole I do most nights these days.
My phone buzzes on the desk beside me and I see it’s Stefan’s name that pops up. Immediately I furrow my brows and reluctantly take the phone in my hand. “Odd for you to call out of the blue, isn’t it?”
Arno is standing in the corner of my office and from the way he’s paying attention to what I’m doing, he knows I’m on high alert. Of course, after working together for so many years he should be able to pick up on my body language.
“Did it happen yet?” Stefan asks, sounding like he’s just run a kilometer.
“Did what happen?” I question, not understanding what he’s talking about.
“The attack, Mikel. Fuck. God. Okay, listen to me. You need to get to the school as soon as you possibly can. There’s going to be another attack.”
I blink a couple times and look over to Arno. Stefan is known as the jokester of the Clans, someone who will fuck with people, pull on their legs and all of that. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Stefan, but joking about children being hurt isn’t funny.”
“Do I sound like I’m fucking joking?!” Stefan screams into the phone, “I have a daughter myself. Get over to the orphanage and save as many as you can before it’s too late!”
I pray he’s joking, but if there’s even the slightest chance he could be right I have to get over there as soon as possible. Immediately I hang up the phone and rise from my chair. Staring down at the scotch I’m glad I didn’t take a drink of it. “We need to go. Stefan seems to think there will be another attack at the orphanage.”
“Did he get a tip?” Arno questions, walking alongside me as we both rush out to my SUV.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t waste the time to ask.” I reply.
Arno hops in the driver’s seat and I take the passenger side. Before I can blink he’s taken off and we’re flying over the speed limit, trying to get there as quickly as we can. I silently keep praying Stefan is playing a joke on me, but he does have a daughter and I’d like to hope he doesn’t joke about such things.
We arrive at the entrance of the road that leads down to the orphanage when two explosions go off at the same time. One to the East and another to the West. Arno speeds up even quicker and by the time we’re to the first building children are running around screaming. Fire is flying high in the sky from the severity of it and I jump out of the vehicle as he comes to a stop.
“Mr. Lungu! I can’t find Patrice. I can’t find her.” One of the other teachers hollers in my direction.
“I will look for her. Get the kids out of here, quickly!” I order out, running into the burning building in front of me.
I see a small child on the floor, stricken with fear and pick her up into my arms. She can’t be more than four or five. Across from her there’s another little girl, crying her eyes out. Motherfucker. I’ve never wished for someone to be joking more in my entire life.
I run back out of the building and hand the two girls off to Arno who puts them in the back of my vehicle. “I’m going back in to search for more, stay with the children and keep them safe. Call the rest of the men and tell them to get here quickly, to bring the SUVs and get the children to safety.”
“Already did.” Arno replies.
I rush back in, covering my mouth and nose with the fabric of my shirt as it becomes increasingly more difficult to breathe. It feels like I’m inhaling razorblades after a minute. I’m only able to see a couple feet in front of me, but I do get through every part of this building, even getting right up to the fire. Thank God these were the only two children in here.
Across from this building is where the youngest of them all are. There’s about a fifty-foot gap between the
two buildings, but if the wind picks up the fire will spread to the other. I run over and head up the stairwell, finding Patrice on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding her. Three toddlers scream their heads off in the background, staring at the closest thing they had to a mother, dead on the floor.
I go over to the children, picking one up and putting it on my left hip and go grab the other and hold her on my right. Meanwhile, I get the last child. “Hold onto my neck, and each other . . . okay guys?”
They nod their heads with tears in their eyes, scared beyond belief and I get out of the building quickly and run to my SUV. Arno is outside of the vehicle, watching over the children and approaches me to take the child who’s holding onto my neck. “I have to go back and get Patrice. Stay with the children, Arno. Not outside of the vehicle. For fuck’s sake, they’re terrified.” I berate him, open the door and slide the two into the back seat with the other two children. Arno walks around to the driver’s side of the vehicle with the remaining child. “I need you two little ladies to keep your friends here safe. Can you do that for me, sweethearts?” I ask them, looking into their chocolate brown eyes.
One little girl’s lip quivers but she nods. “Yeah . . .” Well, that’s good enough for me.
“You are being so brave sweetie. Play some games in the car with Arno and the other kids, alright? I’ll be back in a bit.” Turning my attention to Arno, “The children are the priority. You do everything in your power to ensure their safety.”
“Yes, boss.”
I shut the car door and rush back into the building, dart up the stairs and get to Patrice’s body. Only, I realize she’s still breathing as I approach her. “M-mi-kel,” She tries to say my name but she’s choking on her own blood. It’s in this moment that I realize her wound is practically invisible. She’s been shot.
Who in the world would shoot her?
“T-they’re h-here,” She whispers on her last dying breath before the light fades from her eyes. I start to stand up when something comes slamming into the back of my head and as I fall to the ground I know what this was— an attempt to hurt me. Whoever is behind this has won, because hurting these children is far worse than anything they could ever do to my body.
Chapter Twenty
Melody
It’s the middle of the night and I’ve been hunting for flights for the last two hours. Nothing is leaving until Friday and I don’t want to wait that long . . . but it seems that I don’t have much of a choice. My mother always taught me how important patience was growing up, but damn is it irritating.
I haven’t been able to sleep since seeing Carson with his new fiancée at Lucinda’s and already started re-packing my bag for when I’m ready to head back to Africa. I’m ready to start a movie on Netflix when my phone starts vibrating violently against my coffee table. I pick it up, figuring it’s either my mother calling me or some sort of news alert. I have all sorts of alerts coming directly to my phone, including amber alerts and breaking world news.
Once my facial scan is complete, my phone unlocks and I’m shaken to my core at what I see. ‘Terror attack in South Africa’ is the headline. I immediately tap on the screen and read through the article. Pietermaritzburg is where the attack took place about three hours ago. I scan through the details about the attacks, but what cripples me is when the school is mentioned and that a highly prominent mogul in the area has gone missing.
For a moment I believe it can’t be Mikel, because surely they would’ve named him. Then I see it, his name spelled out in front of me.
Shock rolls through my body in waves as I keep reading and re-reading the article, unsure of what to do. I’m not a fighter. I never have been and I’ve never wanted to be. Though, I can’t deny the way I miss him . . . and even with the type of business he’s in . . . I still care for him so much. My heart is pulling me in two different directions, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there, but one thing I do know is I was wrong to ever push him away and leave. I shouldn’t have done it, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him how I feel.
Tears slide over my cheeks and fall onto my lap quicker than I can wipe them away. There’s only so much I can do from this far away, and my mind runs into a million different scenarios. I wonder if I’d never left if things would’ve been different, or if this was going to happen regardless.
“Fuck this,” I curse, opening up my contacts in my phone I scroll down until I find Davide’s name.
I stare at his name for a couple minutes and know in my gut this is what I must do. I tap on his name and bring the phone to my ear, hearing the repeated ringing tone until he answers.
“Melody?” He sounds groggy, like I just woke him up.
“Do you know anything?” I ask, questioning him immediately.
“What are you going on about? It’s the middle of the night here.”
“Look at your phone, Davide. Mikel is missing, there was an attack on the school.”
“Fuck!” Davide curses and tapping fills my ears. He must be scrolling around on his phone or texting some of the other people part of their organization, or Clan as Mikel had told me a month ago. “Where are you, Africa?” Davide questions.
I feel a frog in my throat and have to cough to clear it. “No, I’m in Atlanta. I . . . I was on my way back to Africa on Friday.”
“Hmm. Here I thought you didn’t give a shit about Mikel after you ran back home.” Obviously I’ve struck a nerve with Mikel’s friend.
“I was confused and didn’t know what I was doing. I understand you’re being snarky because he’s your friend . . . but I’ve never been part of this life, Davide. It was a lot to process, and I’m not wrong for feeling a certain way about the real business you’re all in.”
“Blanka wasn’t part of this lifestyle and she accepted me for who I am and what I do.” Davide sticks the knife in a little deeper and twists it.
“What do you want me to say? I’m not Blanka. Not everyone will have the same reaction. The important thing is I’ve realized my mistakes and I’m ready to do better. I want to do better, but none of it will mean a damn thing if he isn’t found, Davide. I need him to be okay, because I have to tell him how sorry I am for running off, and I have to tell him how I feel, how much I love him.” By the end of my speech I’m crying my eyes out, hating how horribly I’ve treated Mikel.
“Fine. Let me figure out what I can and I’ll call you. You get back on that plane on Friday no matter what, okay? He’s gonna need to see you when he gets out of this fucking mess, that’s for sure.”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”
“All you can do is get on the plane, Melody. You might wanna tell Mariana you want your job back too. I think we both know she’s going to need help with the school. The kids will probably do a little better with someone they know and like.”
I nod my head, “Okay, I’ll get back out there as soon as I can.”
“Good. I’ll call or text you with updates as I find things out.”
“Thank you, Davide. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, but Melody, do me a favor and don’t fuck this up again. Mikel is a really good guy. He’s better than most of us, and he treats you like you’re a damn princess. Don’t throw that all away, not when most other men wouldn’t treat you half as good.”
“I won’t. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”
Davide ends the call without saying goodbye and I open up my internet browser and start looking for any other flights that can possibly get me to Pietermaritzburg sooner.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mikel
Dense pain strikes the back of my head as I wake, like an incredibly annoying thumping. Fluttering my eyelids open I’m met with immediate confusion. My hands are tied behind me and I tug them forward, though it’s no use. Something strong yet thin digs into my wrists. It’s probably some sort of zip tie.
It’s sunny and the floor below me is made of w
hite marble. A grand staircase is off to my right and a few feet in front of me is a bright teal oversized couch. I’m in the middle of someone’s foyer. A chestnut colored grand piano sits to the left of the stairwell and I gaze around the area to see if I can spot anyone.
Patrice had said someone was here before I was knocked unconscious, and it’s obvious whoever hit me brought me to this place. Although, I’ve never been captive in a lovely home like this. I almost expected to be out in the middle of the bush with blood soaking me so the lions would come lurking in my direction.
A wooden door creaks and the sound of nefarious laughter breaks through. It’s coming from my left and I can turn my head just enough to see the door opening. Gold bracelets adorn wrists and he comes into view, a man who I thought I was done with— Jabulani, the man who runs this show.
“Ah, you’re awake now my friend.” He states so matter-of-factly.
“Are we friends?” I question, looking to the cocky baboon.
“I think we all know the answer to that,” Thato, his right hand man comes out behind him with his hands in his pockets.
I glance around the room again, seeing how high the ceilings go and know that even though the men do well, they don’t do this well. “Whose house are we in?” I question, knowing I’m not really in the position to be asking anything. Though, these idiots will answer like they always do. Constantly trying to prove they have bigger balls. All younger men are quick to throw their weight around.
“It’s mine, couldn’t you tell?” Jabulani informs me, walking over to me he comes to a halt. “Come out, my pets.”
A young South African woman comes walking out naked as the day she was born. Her hair is in long braids ending below her ass and her breasts are big and bountiful. Jabulani walks behind her, grazing his hand over her stomach for a moment until he toys with her nipples in front of me.
Flawed (The Clans Book 12) Page 8