Omerta Book Two Page 14

  “His mother has to stay near him. To feed him, can this thing be brought into her room?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’ll be fed through IV. I’m going to visit your wife and check on her. If she is up to it she can come, see him. How’s that?”

  “Grazie, doctore.”

  The doctor nodded and left. Carlo continued to stroke his boy’s hand. His eyes were taped shut and there was a tube in his nose and mouth. Never in his world had he seen life so fragile. He had no concern for Marietta’s baby being delivered early, until he met Lorenza. The dangers of Adara delivering early didn’t particularly trouble him. What if he had kept drinking? What if he hadn’t come home when he did? What would have happened to his son, because of his weakness? Maybe this was why God hand giving him the hard smack he needed.

  “Tu sei mio figlio, Carmine. Everything will be fine. Papa will make sure of it.”

  Two Days Later

  GIOVANNI HAD RETURNED home without his wife. He was prepared to collect his children and Zia to bring them back to Sicily. Mirabella and his family would now move in to Bagheria until the baby was born. The doctors insisted no more travel for her since she was so close to the end of her pregnancy. She got her wish and he got his. He’d located Lorenzo and Marietta.

  The door to villa Rosso opened and closed. His men were everywhere, but this visitor was someone he’d been waiting for. He signed the last contract sent to him from the lawyers and then set his pen down. Carlo entered his office. His lifelong friend looked well. He had freshly shaven and wore a dark grey suit. There was no sign of the trauma he must have experienced having to have one child delivered early and another stolen away to America. But Giovanni knew it was there. He saw a glint of it in Carlo’s defiant stare.

  “Boss, thank you for returning to meet with me, and not sending a bullet instead,” Carlo said. “I hope the Donna is okay.”

  “She is. We had a scare in Palermo, she woke to pain and the doctors have insisted she do no more traveling. She will be staying in Bagheria until my daughter is born.”

  “Daughter? So, you know it’s a girl?”

  Giovanni nodded. Carlo walked over to the chair before his desk. He sat in it. Carlo was never a man of many words. He was a man of action. His silence was to be expected.

  “I could have another child. Maybe a daughter too. In America,” Carlo said.

  “How is your son? The one you know is yours,” Giovanni replied.

  Carlo frowned.

  “Better, he’s getting stronger. He has a lung condition that keeps him in the hospital. Adara and Arielle are with him.”

  Giovanni stared at him for a moment. It felt awkward to continue from behind his desk. He reached in his drawer and removed his gun. He walked around the desk and sat on the edge before Carlo. “You want to know if I knew she was pregnant? If what Umberto told you was true.”

  Carlo gave him a slow nod.

  “Is there anything that happens to my capu’s that I don’t know about?”

  “This didn’t happen to me. Not until you got involved.”

  Giovanni nodded. “I knew she arrived in Italy. Asking questions. I considered none of her concern. Questions about my business, my family and you.”

  “She knows better than that?”

  Gio’s left brow winged up. The gun was still in his hand. “Does she?”

  Carlo sighed. “She came for me.”

  “She came because of her relationship with Lorenzo and Marietta. It was a sensitive time and her arrival, felt unauthentic.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I had plans for you. And they weren’t going well.” Giovanni stood and tapped the gun against his leg. Carlo stared at it for a moment and then up at his boss. Giovanni smirked. He walked over to the bar and set the gun down to fix a drink.

  “It’s my life Gio! You can’t plan my life.”

  “I plan all of our lives. And even more important, your life belongs to me. You made that vow long ago.” He poured a drink and then one for Carlo. He walked over with both glasses.

  “I’m not drinking,” Carlo mumbled.

  “I think you should drink this to help you with the rest of the conversation we need to have.”

  Carlo stared at the glass of scotch for another long moment before he accepted the glass. Giovanni tossed back the drink and then Carlo did the same. He set the glass down and walked away.

  “Lorenzo has been your best friend for decades. I know you hold omertà true to your heart. But what I sent you to Africa to do required a level of commitment and loyalty that I didn’t believe you could keep. When it was clear that the opium was the only thing keeping you in check I changed my plans for you and for Lorenzo.”

  “I did find it difficult, Gio. But I’ve always done what you and Lorenzo couldn’t be bothered to do. I let him go on that beach for the same reasons I would let you go if the tables were turned.”

  “He and I are not the same.” Giovanni seethed.

  “Did you know she was pregnant?”

  Giovanni turned his gaze to Carlo. “I’ve answered that question.”

  “Then why not tell me she was here? Why not tell me the truth when I came back?”

  “Adara. I didn’t know if the American woman carried your child, but I knew Adara did. And I owed you both a chance. It’s why I pushed you to her and gave you time... to recover.”

  “It’s my child. Shae has my child and she thinks that I don’t want her.”

  “You can’t have her,” Giovanni said. “So that means you don’t want her.”

  Carlo frowned. “What did you say?”

  “I said you can’t have her. She’s American. She’s the best friend of Marietta. And she doesn’t belong in our world. You have a wife and a son.”

  “It’s my child Gio!”

  “I understand that. I understand that there will come a day when wanting to know that child will be more important to you than omertà. And when that day comes you will have to face the consequences of disobeying me. But today is about the grace I’m granting you after killing your brother.”

  “Umberto wasn’t my fucking brother. He was a bad imitation of me.”

  “He was your brother in this family and his life has to come at a price. I am your Godfather. You should have come to me to sort this out. Now you’ve taken a step ahead of me. Don’t be surprised when I push you back into line.”

  Carlo glared at Giovanni and the defiance he saw in Carlo’s eyes truly did test Giovanni’s patience. He’d tried to be fair. But he could not be weak with his men. Not anymore. There was too much at stake. Every man under a gun in the Battaglia organization served a purpose. And there could be no other service than the one Giovanni gave them. Shae was a wild card he didn’t expect. And though Umberto kept the secret of her pregnancy if Giovanni had known she arrived to Italy pregnant it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. There would be more no outsiders in his family. Not after what he had planned for Lorenzo.

  “I need to hear you say it,” Giovanni said as he sipped from his second drink and stared at Carlo from over the top of his glass.

  “He who is deaf, blind or silent will live a long life.” Carlo mumbled.

  “Are you? Deaf. Blind. Silent?”

  Carlo stared at Giovanni for a long pause. “For now. But like you said boss. There will come a day when my children, both of them, matter more to me than the life, just as it will come for you.”

  Giovanni nodded. “Then we best be prepared for that day. We understand each other?”

  “Yes, boss, perfectly.”

  Carlo got up and walked toward the door.

  “What did you name him? Your boy?”

  Carlo sighed.

  “I named him Carmine Ciro Giordano.” Carlo said.

  Giovanni smiled. “You do have a daughter. I had my people check the birth records. Her name is Jewel Carlotta Giordano Dennis.”

  “Carlotta?”

  Giovanni nodded. “Turns out this Shae
woman wanted her to have your name.”

  Carlo clenched his fists and swallowed the news.

  “You’re my brother. I trust you with my life. Trust me with yours. When this is over you will face the same choice that your father and my father had. The choice of being a father first or last in life. I’ve told you my expectations. If you can’t honor them, we will finish this conversation the family way.”

  Carlo said nothing. He left. Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. He knew where Lorenzo was. It was time to call the Russians to move the next piece on the chess board.

  OMERTÁ BOOK II

  ACT TWO

  Spring

  April 1995

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The New One

  Clinica Maternità S. Corolla la Bruna

  Palermo, Sicily - April 2, 1995

  “DON GIOVANNI,” THE nurse in a white lab coat with a heart shaped face and ash-blonde hair clustered in short curls under her white medical cap greeted him formally. A flicker of apprehension shocked his system. He’d spent the past three weeks in northern Italy. In his heart he knew time was short. And that feeling drew him back to Sicily. Not in time, but close enough.

  “Where is my wife? My child?”

  “Of course, this way,” The nun said in an apologetic tone. The hospital he’d chosen for the birth of his fourth and last child was secure within his territorial claims in Palermo. Giovanni enlisted the help of the local polizia to keep the media and spectators away. Mirabella was more famous now due to her forced reclusiveness and the truthful rumors of a mafia war. His men had shot, killed, and buried, three thrill seeking tourist who had hiked their way through mountainous terrain to Melanzana to snag a picture of the family. The idiots who lost their lives didn’t know she was tucked away safely in Sicily awaiting their child’s birth.

  The hall he walked along with Carlo and Renaldo shadowing him was similar to the hall he paced when his twin sons were born and he’d almost lost her. The trio turned the corner and was greeted by family. Amy, the oldest daughter of Zio Vito, came over to him with a cheery smile. “She’s fine, Gio. She and the baby are just fine.”

  Giovanni glanced to Carlo then Renaldo. Both of them gave him a nod of congratulations.

  “She’s waiting for you. Wait until you see her, Gio. È una ragazzina dolce e adorabile.”

  Giovanni left the family and entered his wife’s room. Mirabella sat up in the bed. Her hair had a center part and two long braids. She looked ten years younger while cradling their child in the crook of her arm.

  “Guarda, il tuo papà è a casa. Look sweetie your dad is here.” The sound of her voice beckoned him closer. She had no idea how sensuous and loving her voice sounded. He’d rather listen to her voice than Pavarotti.

  “I wanted to be here sooner.” Giovanni removed the cap from his head. In his hurry to get back to Sicily he hadn’t arrived in his very best. She didn’t seem to mind. “How bad did it get? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “It couldn’t have gone more perfect? I went into labor and before I even could lay back she was coming out. The most beautiful delivery I’ve ever had. No problems, no complications, I don’t even remember if I felt pain.” She could hardly lift her voice above whisper when she spoke again but he heard her clearly. “She’s beautiful, Gio. And she’s... different from the other children.”

  Giovanni walked over to her bedside. His joyful heart thundered crazily in his chest. For months they speculated over the health of the baby. They never agreed on her conception. They never understood when and where it happened. But they both agreed on the risks. The poison in Mirabella had never been cured. Even the doctors weren’t sure about the child not having any physical or mental handicaps.

  What could be wrong?

  A deformity?

  He didn’t care. He would love his child no matter what.

  “See her for yourself.”

  The cloth blanket that swaddled his infant daughter was peeled aside to reveal her. Her skin was a deeper brown than any of his children. All of them were born pale with skin like peach-tinted cream. And even now their olive skin tones never reached the richness of his beautiful wife’s skin. His baby girl squirmed and her tiny lips puckered. Mirabella rubbed her cheek to coax her to open her eyes. And she did, just a peek before shutting them again.

  “They’re different, see... I think they’re dark grey or brown. She has my eyes,” Mirabella said.

  “So she does.” There was a slight tinge of wonder in his voice. It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise for either of them. But after three children they both believed all their kids would be in his image, not hers. The little one closed her eyes and refused to open them again.

  “I have a name for her. I thought about her on the drive here.”

  “You do?” Mirabella asked.

  “We name her after your mother.”

  “Mother? Really?”

  Giovanni took his daughter into his arms. He was careful with her head. And she didn’t seem the least bit disturbed. “Ti chiami Leeza MiaBella Battaglia. Mia figlia ti adoro. I am your Papa.”

  His little angel squinted at him. She opened her eyes and they seem a bit cross before they corrected and focused on him. As dark and beautiful as her mother’s eyes, as Mirabella’s mother and grandmother’s eyes.

  “Leeza MiaBella Battaglia,” Mirabella repeated. “I don’t like the short name Lee, for her. We will call her Mia. For MiaBella. Perfecto?”

  “Perfecto.”

  “Madre, tua madre...”

  Mirabella woke.

  Giovanni paced with their daughter in his arms. He told an exaggerated tale of how the family was, with her role as Madre being something magical. She listened for a while. Her husband had returned to her. The man he was with her and the children in private was there. His sleeves were rolled up. He wore no shoes. He was totally devoted to their daughter in the way he held her and spoke to her. Mirabella fell deeper in love with him. This was the man she knew. The man she adored.

  “She can’t even giggle, Gio. I doubt she will laugh at your jokes.”

  “She’s a smart baby. Very smart. You’ll be saying Madre soon.”

  “Even when she speaks she’ll say Papa first. All of your bambini have.” Mirabella adjusted herself to sit up proper on her pillows.

  “My kids? Am I a single parent now?”

  Mirabella chuckled.

  “No. Mama bear is right here, like always.”

  “Look at her, Bella. She’s you, all you. I never imagined I could have another you. I always... I wanted a daughter like you, and I see you in our children, yes, but Leeza is special.”

  “Eve is special,” Mirabella reminded him.

  “My lucciola has the heart of fire. She’s me. And my sons are divided between us both. But Leeza, is her mother reborn. I can’t explain it.”

  “Don’t let Eve hear you say that,” Mirabella winced as she sat up. “She’s been acting out for your attention.”

  “Lucciola has nothing to worry about. There is enough love in Papa’s heart to go around.” Giovanni said.

  “Bring her to me. Let me see if she will latch on to my breast. She refused to earlier and I want to try again.”

  Giovanni walked over and gave his wife his daughter.

  “We have found where Lorenzo and Marietta are hiding.” Giovanni felt compelled to tell her the truth. “I tracked down the flight manifesto of a plane owned by Mancini Industries. It’s been logged to make frequent trips. First it flew into Spain and then to Greece then back to Turin.”

  “Turin? Why is Lo sending his pilot there?”

  “My Russian friends will have answers for me tonight. If what I believe is true he’s picked up a few of the N’drangheta and met with them in Greece courtesy of your brother’s money. An attempt to make a new ally.”

  “Can this talk wait?” she glanced up at him. “I’m feeding our baby girl for the first time.”

  Giovanni looked at the baby i
n his wife’s arms. Mirabella’s tone softened when she spoke again. “The small things matter now, Gio.”

  “The big things matter too, Bella.”

  “You always knew where he was. This is not a surprise for you. Is it?” she asked.

  “I just told you—”

  “You were waiting for me to give birth. That’s the real truth you’re not telling. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Bella. I was waiting.”

  Mirabella lowered her gaze first. She tended to her daughter and pretended to not understand the threat to Lorenzo in his tone.

  Lihnari, Peninsula — Private Isles of Greece

  MARIETTA LEGS FELT tight in the thighs and lower calves. Her heartbeat matched her breathing. Still she jogged at a moderate speed along the hard surface of the sand smoothed over by the tide. The ocean breeze smelled sweet but felt hot and dewy on her skin. The sun was unrelenting. Heat didn’t matter. Jogging freed her.

  Above came a loud roar of a plane’s engine and she stumbled nearly landing on her knees in the sand. Marietta used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked up after the jetliner’s shadow swept over her. It was him. He was home.

  Lorenzo had made a trip to Athens and now he was back. Marietta ran to where she left her backpack and found two men waiting. She was given her gun. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and blinked the sweat from her eyes. She checked the chamber and the bullets were accounted for. It was good news to have her man back with her. The problem was, he wasn’t expected to return until tomorrow.

  “Let’s go,” she said to the men and marched straight for the waiting jeep. She hopped in and they sped off along the manmade roads to the private villa that had once belonged to a monarch. This island, though isolated, bloomed with life. The fresh water springs and dense forestry, with weeds that yellowed in the sun and a color splash of wild flowers growing everywhere, had become the safest place for her and Lorenzo to hide. Withdrawal was hard for her for the first few days after their arrival. The drugs Lorenzo had used to calm her had been very addictive. But he held her through it, and she fought like hell to overcome her weakness. Thoughts of her daughter always made the fight endurable. During those dark days she felt closer to her mother than she had ever felt. She now understood her in ways she wished she hadn’t.