Omerta Book Two Page 13

  Dominic blinked at and blinked again. He looked as if he were hurt.

  “My wishes are to come first. First! I gave a fucking order! Did you miss it? Did you not understand it? Because I was fucking clear! How can you be my counsel if I can never trust you to follow through!”

  “That is not what a consigliere is for! I am to think of the family at all times. And even the things you wish can be wrong. I’m to give you the best options. It’s what Flavio taught me. It’s what Patri taught me. It’s what you taught me! And I have. Everything I’ve done since I was a boy has been to serve this family. I’ve taken nothing for myself!”

  “You took Catalina when she was too young to know what sex with her brother could mean to her life. Was that for the family? Or was that for you?”

  Dominic shook his head. “I’ve been punished for that sin. I’m still being punished. Whether I’m consigliere or underboss, I am loyal to you and her. No one cares more than me.” Dominic stood his ground. He didn’t drop or lower his gaze. He held his position ready to face whatever came next. Giovanni felt a measure of respect for him.

  “Where is he?” Giovanni asked.

  “Greece, possibly, I’ve checked. There are only three islands that he could be on. And there is only one big enough to land a plane. I’m sure he’s there. We’ll find the pilot. I think they’ve moved him to Spain—he’s being kept there until Lorenzo needs him to fly him out. I’ve checked with the airport in Barcelona. We have our plane’s manifesto being sent to us. I should have it before the end of the week.”

  “Find the pilot, the plane and put them both on ice.”

  “I have some other unfortunate news, Gio.”

  “What?”

  “Carlo called.” Dominic wiped his hand down his mouth and chin. “He’s killed Umberto.”

  Giovanni brows lowered. “He did what?”

  “He killed Umberto. He said Umberto had interfered in his private life. Kept that American woman Shae from him. Not sure what he was going on about, but he sounded upset. Very. He wants a meeting with you, and you only.”

  “Arrange it,” said Giovanni.

  “Umberto was capu. Carlo did this in front of your men. His death was not approved. He should have brought the problem between them to you.”

  Giovanni smirked. “Carlo is to obey me, but you don’t have to?”

  “Gio, I only meant—”

  “I guess Lorenzo isn’t the only pretend brother I have to teach respect to. You want this? You can have it. Transfer all of my affairs to my attorneys. I don’t need your fucking counsel anymore, Domi. Stay here. Play house with our sister. Raise another man’s child. Stay the fuck out of my way.”

  “Gio?”

  “I’ll deal with Carlo. Let me find my wife and make peace with her.” Giovanni walked out without a second glance back. “I don’t expect to see you in the morning before I leave.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Love and Hate

  Sorrento, Italy

  CARLO KNEW BETTER THAN to turn to liquor. Alcohol was always the catalyst for some of the most destructive behavior in his life. After killing Umberto and confessing to Dominic he’d lost his grip on his rage. He broke another man’s jaw and slit another’s throat for staring at him too long. He had to flee before he did worse.

  He used the alcohol to hide. When he sobered, he’d slept half the day away in his car. And then he drove the car to the beaches and bought some food at a small cafe. Sitting on the rocks near the shore with the water splashing against his pants leg he ate with his fingers and watched the sun rise from the sea. He stared out at it for so long that his corneas began to burn. In Africa he had a really bad head trip once. And oddly enough that mind blast had sent him to the past. It had sent him here. To this beach. Over the years he had dumped hundreds of bodies of the Battaglia enemies into this ocean. In his drug induced delirium he envisioned being on this same beach with those bodies washing up on a bloody shore. He stood before the setting sun with a gun in his hand aimed at his head. It was how he envisioned his death. It did not come by the hands of the polizia or Carabinieri, not by la Camorra, or some unknown enemy. He’d end it himself, this way. However, now he had so much more to live for.

  Shae was pregnant.

  When did they make a baby?

  Was it his baby?

  How could she and he create a baby when she was sterile?

  Was it a lie? Did she come back to deceive him like Umberto warned?

  Where was she now?

  Where was the baby?

  He had to know the truth. He had to go to Sicily and find Giovanni and demand the truth. The idea of Giovanni betraying him and endorsing his marriage to Adara over Shae dumbfounded him. It wasn’t like his boss to meddle at that level. Or was it? When Lorenzo was hyped up on liquor and full of bitterness over his cousins’ power he’d always say Giovanni played God instead of Godfather. Carlo was too dense to understand the meaning. He was learning.

  The sun rise meant nothing. He gave up on the search for answers after his last bite. He had a wife now. He had to be honest with himself about the choice he made. He had a son, but he also had a child in America that belonged to him. He had to do something. What should he do?

  He drove home on autopilot. If he had been aware of his surroundings he would have noticed the red Peugeot following two cars behind him. The car kept a safe distance but never lost him as he swerved in and out of lanes. When he arrived it was nightfall. The red Peugeot was gone. The villa Carlo shared with Adara was covered in darkness. There was no moon in the sky. There was no light on inside. He sat in his car and turned off the engine. His vision kept blurring from the lack of sleep and his dehydration. He stretched his eyes a bit to see clearly. And then he noticed movement. Several of the youngsters driven away from his land camped out again on his lawn. The tents were up again. The boys were returning in numbers.

  The boss would cut his balls for what he did in anger to Umberto.

  Fuck the boss if he is the reason for Shae being sent away.

  Maybe Gio knew best. Sending Shae away from him was the safest place for her.

  How could he ever let her go now? How? He didn’t know how to let her go before.

  Carlo looked down at his hands holding the steering wheel. Blood covered his fingers and had dried under his nail beds. He barely remembered his rampage. Shae had that effect on him. He tried to remember his happiness when he married Adara. It shouldn’t have been an arduous task. He’d put his demons and misfortune to bed and stood before God when he swore to be a better man. He had to be a better man. A fresh start for a man like him was impossible. Yet, it was here. He couldn’t fuck it up. Carlo wiped his hand down his shirt and found that it too had blood splatter. He couldn’t let her see him like this.

  Carlo walked around to the back of the villa. His boys peered out of their tents at him as he shed his bloody shirt. He went to the hose connected to the side of his home. He turned it on and washed the blood from his hands, forearms and face. He threw his shirt into a garbage canister and then went inside through the back door.

  At the kitchen sink he grabbed a glass and got water from the tap. He drank it down in two big gulps, and then he got more. The water helped. It helped a lot. He set the glass down and gripped the edge of the sink. His head lowered.

  Fuck Shae.

  Fuck her to hell. This was a trick. It had to be.

  He hated Shae. The bitch was cruel. She tore his heart out.

  Why should he trust a woman? An American woman!

  He hated himself for loving her still.

  They were supposed to be moving in two days. The entire place had boxes stacked with his things and hers. He had to focus. Carlo didn’t want water. It wasn’t strong enough. He went to the cabinet and got a bottle of wine she kept for cooking. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and then spat it on the floor. A soft squeal cut through the silence of his home. He turned in the darkness of his kitchen and listened. Nothing else followed.
Maybe it was his adrenaline, or his anxiety and regret over longing for Shae. Whatever it was he was certain he’d heard something. Carlo started out of the kitchen into the front sitting room. The place was as dark as night. Adara’s brother was asleep on the sofa. He slept hard. Carlo moved on instinct. In his hand was his bottle. Strapped around his shoulder and upper chest was his gun-holster. The Beretta was snug and fastened under his left arm.

  “Arrrggggh!” Adara cried out.

  He dropped the bottle. The boy on the sofa sat upright in surprise. Carlo sprinted to the bedroom. He crashed inside to find the bed empty. He glanced right and heard her cry out in agony again. He went inside the bathroom and flipped the light switch. Adara was on the floor and she held her stomach.

  “What is it?”

  She smiled with a face drenched in sweat. “You’re home? I knew you would come home.”

  “What is it? Are you hurt!” her brother said. He too was in the bathroom.

  “No, just pregnant,” she half joked then groaned again.

  “Why are you in pain?” Carlo asked. “Did you fall?”

  “It’s time, Carlo.”

  “Per cosa?”

  Adara rolled her eyes. Another jolt of pain hit her so hard she grabbed his arm and screamed out.

  “The baby? It’s time for the baby?” Carlo gasped. “It can’t be. You aren’t ready. It’s too soon.”

  “We have to get to the hospital. I’m in labor. I can’t have the baby here.”

  “I’ll call them now,” her brother said and dashed out. She said a few other things more but he didn’t hear her. He had her in his arms and was carrying her to the bed and yelling the news with excitement. “The baby is coming!”

  RENALDO STEPPED OFF the elevator. He saw young men he half recognized. All of them knew him. He nodded to a few and followed what he believed was the path to his friend. At the end of the hall he saw him. Carlo wore scrubs a medical surgeon cap. He even had his shoes covered.

  “Is she in labor?” Renaldo asked.

  He shook his head no. “She had the baby. My boy. He’s four pounds. He came out screaming. He came out too soon.”

  Renaldo hugged him. Carlo hugged him back.

  “How is the baby?”

  “They said it’s his lungs. They are running tests. The doctors are with Adara. I’m waiting to go see the baby. She wanted me to stay with him.” Carlo panted. “It was wild. I tell you all of it was just... wild. I did it with Marietta. I felt the birth, but when it’s your own. It’s my son. My son. I was right there when he came out. And I cut the cord. He’s my boy.”

  Renaldo patted him on the back. “Welcome to fatherhood.”

  “I’m going to name him Carmine. After my brother. Carmine Ciro Giordano. My son.”

  “A strong name. Better than junior.”

  “He’s not me, not a copy of me.” Carlo grinned. “He’s the best part of me.”

  “He’s the better part of you. I agree. I felt the same with my boy. It’s how it should be.”

  Carlo’s smile faded. Renaldo saw him look away to the window of babies. He had just said his son wasn’t among them but Carlo stared at the babies.

  “You okay? Worried?”

  “I meant to call you. I should have called you first. Before.”

  “I’m here. Rolando found me. He told me the news.”

  “Not this news. I killed Umberto last night.”

  “What?”

  Carlo cast a sideways glance “It was justified.”

  “Are you fucking nuts?” Renaldo said. He pushed Carlo further away from the men gathered so their voices remained unheard. “Does Gio know?”

  “He does now.”

  “Why! I know Umberto was being an ass and imitating you. I know about the kids, but why the fuck would you put your hands on one of us? A capu that you helped make!”

  “He wasn’t one of us. He was a fraud. A fucking fake.”

  “You don’t put a bullet in any man under Giovanni without his approval.”

  Carlo paced away. “Shae returned to Italy. She came looking for me.”

  Renaldo frowned.

  “It’s true. And get this. She was pregnant. Umberto told me. Said she tried to say the baby was mine and—”

  “Wait, wait. You said she was sterile. That she couldn’t have a baby.”

  “Some fucking how she did!” Carlo threw up his hands. “I don’t know how; I don’t know anything. That motherfucker sat on the information. Kept it from me.”

  Renaldo looked behind him then to Carlo. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It fucking matters!”

  “Not today! Today belongs to your son. Your wife. This Shae thing we figure out together. But today you forget it. You go in that room and be the husband you said you would be. I’ll try to hold off Gio.”

  Adara’s brother walked up. “She’s asking for you,” he said.

  Carlo nodded. “Tell her I’m on the way.”

  “Listen to me. Forget Shae. Okay? Take care of your wife and kid. The boss is in Sicily now. He probably doesn’t know.”

  “I told Domi.”

  Renaldo made the sign of the cross in front of him. “Are you fucking insane!” he said and smacked Carlo upside the head. “Are you on a death wish.”

  Carlo shrugged. “I was angry. Umberto said Giovanni gave the order. Why would he do that to me! Why?”

  “I’ll arrange a sit down with Giovanni and then we’ll get to the bottom of it. You stay with your family and out of Giovanni’s sight. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, my son and wife,” he repeated. “Need to make sure they are okay. And then I want answers Renaldo. I want to know if Giovanni knew this. If he kept this from me, Umberto said he did but I don’t believe him.”

  Renaldo watched Carlo walk away. He waited until his friend went inside the hospital room before he reached into his pocket and removed his phone. He dialed the boss and waited.

  “What is it?” Giovanni answered on the first ring.

  “I found him,” Renaldo said.

  “Where is he?”

  “Hospital. Adara gave birth.”

  “It’s too soon, isn’t it?” Giovanni asked.

  “The baby is premature. They think there might be something wrong with the boy’s lungs.”

  “Stay on him. I’ll return home in the morning. Bring him to me when the baby is well.”

  “Gio. He says Shae is pregnant and Umberto said you knew about it.”

  “I’ll talk to Carlo. Have you found Umberto’s body?”

  “It’s in the ocean, that’s my guess.”

  “Make sure it doesn’t wash up.”

  Giovanni ended the call. Renaldo let go a deep breath. He shook his head and glanced back at the window of babies. He knew his friend. Carlo was like him. He’d take care of his wife and son. But there was no way in hell he’d let Shae go. Not if she had his kid in America. No way in hell.

  CARLO SAT UP IN THE chair. Adara smiled from her bed at him. Carlo wiped his eyes and worked the painful cramp from the back of his neck with his fingers.

  “You need to rest. It’s been over twenty-four hours and you haven’t left.” Adara said.

  “I’m not leaving.” Carlo got up from his chair and came over to her. He took her hand and kissed it. “How do you feel?”

  “Scared,” she admitted.

  “He’s going to be fine. The doctors said that he’s a strong kid. Like his mother,” Carlo smiled.

  “Like his father,” she interjected.

  “Like us both,” he then kissed her lips briefly. Adara grabbed his wrist when he went to turn away. She pulled him over for a more lasting kiss. “I love him so much. Already. How is that possible?”

  Carlo chuckled. “It’s what mothers do. Love their sons.”

  He walked away from the bed with his hands in his pocket. He was barely able to grab a clean shirt before he brought her to the hospital. And his boys went home to get him pants that weren’t stained with
blood. He didn’t want her to see him in the condition he once was.

  “You sure everything is okay?” she asked.

  He glanced to her. She was picking up on his anxiety. Carlo ran his hand back over his head and released a deep breath. She was his wife. He was committed to her, in every way meaningful. He didn’t want to be his father and every other father he knew when he grew up. He wanted to be a better man. He opened his mouth to begin to tell her to the truth when the door to the room opened. Arielle came rushing in followed by Adara’s brother. The women both burst into tears at the sight of each other. Carlo observed for a moment and then slipped out to let them celebrate the birth of his son.

  “Signore Giordano,” a nurse said that approached him.

  Carlo looked up. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Would you like to see your son? I was sent to bring you to him.”

  Carlo nodded. The nurse gave him a pleasant smile and led the way. Carlo followed her down the hall to a door that swung inward. She stopped to give him a breathing mask and a pair of gloves. He accepted them willingly. However, his eyes were on the little glass box with the tubes running inside of it. He could hear the machines and see the accordion pump that was attached offer air for his son’s half developed lungs.

  “Signore Giordano, please, come,” the doctor appeared. Carlo felt paralyzed with fear for his boy. After an encouraging nudge from the nurse he walked over to the doctor and peered into a glass chamber that housed the tiniest baby he’d ever seen.

  “Did he shrink?”

  “I beg your pardon?” the doctor replied.

  “He looked bigger when he came out.”

  “He’s the same as when he was born,” the doctor began. Carlo was able to reach his hand inside to touch his son’s tiny hand. He saw the baby foot move in response. “He has RDS, it’s called respiratory distress syndrome. He has difficulties expanding his lungs to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. That is why you see the ventilator helping him breathe.”

  “How long will it take to recover? Before we can take him home?”

  “What you see is him on is a warming bed. He’s attached to a monitor that continues to check his breathing. He will have round the clock care. First three days are of concern. If he doesn’t show improvement after the fourth day, then we will have to talk about a longer treatment plan. If he does start breathing normally and can feed, we will then talk about release.”