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  Adara laughed. She laughed and tossed her long curls to the side of her shoulder. “How easy was it for me Carlo, to take everything from you, to turn on you? The butcher? You are no butcher. You’re a puppy! My puppy. All I had to do is pretend to care. You’re so desperate for attention you’d take it from anyone. My bosses laughed. We had a good laugh at you. Why do you think Giovanni sent you away with Marietta? Because you’re a useless piece of shit! Un patetico perdente!”

  “Fuck you both!” he snarled like a mad dog and tried to rise. He could not. He was tied to the bed. He frowned at the restraints fastened to his wrists and snatched hard to break free.

  The women stepped aside. Marietta appeared. She had her hand over her belly, and shook her head smiling. “He’s a monster. A woman killer. A baby killer,” she said. “Il macellaio. The Butcher. He will die like monsters do. And he will burn in hell forever.”

  More women came.

  Whores.

  Victims of his cruelty.

  Some were dead.

  Some were half-dead.

  Some were barely alive.

  Carlo felt himself seizure with guilt as they all shouted his crimes against them.

  “Get out! Get out of my fucking head!” He yelled and when the shouting and fighting defeated him he broke down in sobs. He hadn’t cried so hard and so genuinely since his baby sister died. He hadn’t felt so broken and scared, since he was convicted to a man’s prison as a teenager. He hadn’t hated himself so much since he lost Shae. He cried.

  “Shhhh...” Shae whispered. She was lying next to him again. “I’m here, daddy. It’s okay my tough guy. I’m here.”

  “Stop torturing me!” Carlo choked on his plea. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

  She did not. She rolled on top of him and straddled him once more with her soft thighs. She moved on him with slow back and forth pelvic thrusts. “Remember Carlo? Remember this? Remember how good it was? I was the one who taught you how to love me, how to be loved. Don’t you remember?”

  Carlo wept. He didn’t cry over the loss of his father. He never cried in jail when he fought off rapists and attackers. He only cried for the death of Ciro with the help of Shae. But he did cry when he lost her. She taught him how to love. When she broke his heart, she taught him why he didn’t deserve love.

  “I’ll help you die. When it’s time Carlo I’ll be there. At the end. I promise,” Shae said.

  He pulled her down and kissed her and she bounced with precision on his dick. Carlo’s wrists were no longer in cuffs but in ribbons, that were torn from the posts when he rolled Shae over and kissed her neck, thrust into her nice and slow, savored the sweet strawberry flavor of her skin.

  “Ti amo così tanto, Shae. Only you,” he said over and over.

  He lifted his head from sucking her nipple while buried deep in her and saw Adara. She smiled at him. Carlo only hesitated for a moment. He swept his tongue up into Adara’s mouth and pounded his lust and regrets into her soft core. A shudder of a breath escaped her before their tongues disengaged and he was loving Shae once more. And on and on the cycle went, until madness was no longer his enemy.

  CARLO?

  The vision was over. Carlo opened his eyes. He could see again. As clear as his drugged state would allow. Abedi dragged her tongue from his pelvis to his neck. Her lips captured his and he kissed her. Shae was gone. Adara was gone. Marietta was gone. The women from his past were all gone.

  “We do again? No?” Abedi asked. “I like your demon, Carlo. We rise him again?” she said in Italian. He was wrong all along. She knew his language. And she waited until his submission was complete to reveal it.

  Carlo nodded and Abedi left the bed. She went to get more opium. He closed his eyes and waited to die but this time in Shae’s arms.

  Firenze, Italy

  DOMINIC KNOCKED.

  No answer.

  He knocked again. He waited.

  No answer.

  Dominic pounded on the door with his fist. She answered a few seconds later. The moment she saw him she tried to shove the door close, but he forced his way in. He won the battle. Sera hurried away. Dominic slammed the door behind him.

  “Gee—iiit ouuuut,” she stammered.

  “And go where?” he asked.

  She looked at him and his state. She shook her head. She shook all over with fear. “Have you been drinking? Are you coming to me drunk?” she said in fear. Dominic was his cruelest to her when drunk. He regretted what he’d done in the past because of his anger mixed with liquor.

  “I buried my uncle today. I had a few drinks on the plane. Flew here from Sicily.”

  “Why? Why come to me? Haven’t you done enough? You’ve destroyed my life!”

  Dominic shrugged. “Have I?”

  “I’m calling the polizia. She ran over to the phone. He didn’t bother to stop her. He wasn’t fazed by her threats. And she knew it.

  “You threatened me. You’re threatening my family. I had to quit my job after you killed my colleagues.”

  “I never told you to quit the hospital,” he said. “The killing was only to silence those who you confided in. I warned you.”

  “It’s murder! It’s unethical what you made me do! And when they find Dr. Gillian’s body I’ll be in a prison cell next to you.”

  Dominic walked over to the chair in the room and dropped in it.

  Sera’s eyes stretched. “You can’t stay here. Just leave. Please.”

  “Pack your things. Giovanni wants you moved. They have found his body.”

  “What? They have? And Dr. Pace? Did they find him too?”

  “Pack. You’re leaving.”

  “To where?”

  “Doesn’t matter. We leave in the morning.” He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. His right hand was in a salute at his brow as he shut his eyes. He’d had a shitty day and it wasn’t getting any better. The memory of Rocco in the casket and the screams and tears of the family around him would follow him for many days to come. “Fix me a drink, something to eat.”

  “I can’t fix you, Dominic. I tried that. Remember? You replaced an old demon with a new one every time I see you. I can’t do anything for you. I’m not here to be your servant.”

  “Fuck my demons. Fuck servitude. I’m not looking to be fixed doctor. You have a job to do. And I’m here to make sure you do it.” He looked up at her. He’d hoped to fuck her and let exhaustion force sleep on him. But he’d lost his appetite for her pussy. He’d find a room in a hostel close. Sleep off the night and collect her in the morning. After all, where could she run too? Her big mouth had gotten her doctor friends killed. She knew the Battaglia’s played for keeps. He started for the door.

  “I’ll be back in the morning. My men will be outside so don’t try to run.”

  “Wait,” she grabbed his arm. “Just wait, damn it! If you’re hungry I can fix something.”

  Dominic cast her a curious look from over his shoulder. The doctor let his arm go. She paced with her hands to her head. There was a battle going on inside of her. One she’d already lost. But he was mildly amused by her attempts at strength. Dominic waited for her to convince herself to give him what he needed.

  “When is this over Domi? When are we done?” she pleaded.

  “After Lorenzo and Marietta pay for their crimes your debt to Giovanni will be wiped clean.”

  “Pay for their crimes? What kind of repayment?”

  “You know the answer to that question, doctor. You've been in my head.”

  “I’m scared!”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I’m not a criminal like you and that maniac Don of yours!”

  “Neither am I.”

  “I’ve seen it. You know what you’ve done! What we’ve done. This whole thing terrifies me.”

  Dominic pulled his hands out of his pockets to open his arms. Sera stared at him as if uncertain of what to trust. The man who exposed and ripped her life to shreds, or the boy in Dominic that just wanted
to be loved. Dominic nodded that she was safe with either man. She went into his embrace. He held her but felt nothing. The moment she lifted her head from his chest he kissed her. He continued to feel nothing. She didn’t resist and for that he was grateful because he had so little control over the emptiness that the darkness had left in him lately. Stripping off her clothes was no hard task. They peeled away from her bare skin easily. When they entered her bedroom, he found himself fucking her against the wall and then with her on all fours on the floor before she collapsed and he took her to bed. After sex she slept in his arms. Dominic felt nothing. He stared at the ceiling. Exhaustion wasn’t enough to bring him peace. Nothing and no one mattered since he lost Catalina. It was then he realized what the repayment of salvation would cost. No matter what he had to find Catalina and bring her home. Or he’d never feel anything again.

  Tossa de Mar, Spain

  LORENZO SLAMMED THE door. He paced like a caged bull. With flared nostrils and hands to his waist. She was gone. He’d fucked up and managed to do the one thing he swore he wouldn’t let happen. He let Giovanni take his wife. Consumed by rage and guilt he smashed everything he could lift. The chairs he grabbed were reduced to splinters. Windows were shattered sending glass shards out into the night.

  He cursed and yelled and cursed again until his voice went hoarse from the strain. And when there was nothing left to destroy he turned the pain on himself, beating his fist over and over into the wall until the skin on his knuckles split and his hand dripped blood.

  Alik’s people tracked Giovanni’s plane to Greece. Lorenzo had hope. He truly believed that they’d uncover the destination. Then hope gave way to rage. The flight logs they paid for were falsified. She was gone.

  Lorenzo collapsed to the ground with his elbows to his knees and head in his hands. If he didn’t find her soon it was the end. If Giovanni did anything to harm her, he swore on the life of his unborn child he’d retaliate with fire and bullets on the Battaglia’s.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Go the fuck away!” he shouted at the highest reach of his voice.

  The door flung open. He didn’t hear anything after that. Not the person who entered. He didn’t hear the door close. All he heard was the debate in his head over how he’d do the impossible and save his wife. The debate that he was steadily losing.

  “Lorenzo,” a soft voice said. “Lorenzo?”

  Catalina knelt in front of him and touched his arms. He lifted his head from his hands and looked at her tear-stained face. “Today is the day. Today they buried Rocco,” she said on the verge of a complete melt down. “He’s gone, Lo. Rocco’s really dead.”

  Lorenzo blinked out of his rage induced stupor. For a minute he was able to think of someone other than Marietta. The news Catalina shared was sobering.

  “They put him in the ground and we didn’t say goodbye. Dead.” Catalina wept. “Gio and Domi buried him without us. He’s gone forever, and I didn’t say bye.”

  All he saw was the little girl he and Giovanni raised. Their piccoleta. He pulled her into an embrace and held her while sitting with his back to the wall. She cried against his chest as she often did as a little girl. There had been nothing but anger and insults between them both since he killed Armando. But in that moment, they needed so much more. They needed faith. Lorenzo closed his eyes and pretended to have some. For both their sakes.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Il Don e la Donna - The Don and the Woman

  Bagheria, Sicilia

  THE BATTAGLIAS OWNED land. They owned more land than Giovanni and Mirabella could build upon. During war times in la Camorra isolation in Bagheria made security and safety easier. For privacy the Don and his wife chose to stay in one of the smaller villas closer to the cliffs by the sea. Seclusion helped Giovanni heal, while she found herself constantly going between the villa and the palazzo (mansion/main house) to tend to the family’s grief.

  The palazzo was much grander than Melanzana and loomed above the smaller villas like some imperial temple. Eight families resided there. The men drove golf carts and four wheelers to cover the distance. Mirabella glanced down the hill to where she expected to see Giovanni in the distance. Instead she saw one of his cousins. The man’s name was Pepe and like most Battaglia Sicilian men he had a deep olive tan, dark coal black hair, height and the body frame of Giovanni and Lorenzo. He stood outside with one of the twins on his shoulder talking to his brothers. Eve chased her cousins around a tree with little Gino trying to keep up. She smiled at the happiness of her children. They loved it in Sicily. Maybe one day when the strife and danger was over they’d leave Sorrento behind and settle here.

  These were dangerous times. Palermo was on fire. The Mafia was reigning hell all over Sicily because of the unconfirmed death of Armando Mancini. They’d lost one of their own by the hands of the la Camorra. Giovanni had nearly a hundred men in Sicily guarding them for their stay in Bagheria under a shaky truce granted out of respect for Rocco. She knew what war meant. She knew that the target on her husband’s back wouldn’t lift. And she knew all too well how fragile life was since she almost lost him.

  You wouldn’t leave. You’re not that crazy. Damn it Gio, where are you? Mirabella walked around the villa and found Umberto and Leo. They were deep in conversation. Leo looked agitated.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  The men looked over.

  “Did he leave? Where did he go!” she said with too much emotion in her voice to be considered the leader of the family.

  “No, Donna. He’s down the cliffs on the beach,” Leo replied. Umberto shot him a look for silence. But Leo thankfully ignored him.

  Mirabella touched her belly. She let go a deep sigh of relief. “Is he safe out there?”

  “He’ll return soon Donna,” Leo answered.

  “When?”

  “Soon,” Umberto replied.

  “Take me to him.” she started off. The men had no choice but to obey her order. They brought her down to the beach in a four-wheeler. The moment she arrived she spotted Giovanni swimming back against the tide to the shore.

  Why is he in the ocean? He’s not well enough for a swim, she muttered to herself. The Don stood in the water, at waist deep and began walking toward the shore. His back was straight, his stride purposeful despite the pressure of the waves. His shirt was plastered to his broad chest and his pants slick to his muscled thighs. Though he’d lost weight due to his coma, he was still her stubborn, proud husband. She got out of the motor vehicle with the help of one of his men. Giovanni crossed the sand in his bare feet towards her.

  “Don’t do that, Gio. Promise me. You aren’t well enough. Swimming now could be dangerous.”

  “I’m still your husband.”

  “Yes, and I can’t... I can’t lose you. Not again.”

  “Never again,” he kissed her trembling lips. She slipped her arm around his waist and secured her hold on him. Despite his soggy state he felt warm in her arms.

  “Remember when you taught me to swim?” she asked with her mouth close to his and her face cradled in his hands.

  “You were scared to put your head underwater.”

  “I feared the unknown,” she corrected him. “Not anymore Gio. I’m not scared, just cautious. I know I’ve been controlling lately but your recovery is a progress. Fear is not weakness, it’s a warning to be careful. Stop proving you’re fearless. I know you are sweetheart. Be careful.”

  He nodded. She was swept up into his arms for a deeper kiss. It felt more needful than the ones before. Almost desperately needful. When her mouth escaped his she licked her bruised lips and dropped her forehead on his chest. They stood there for an eternity before she lifted her head and looked into his eyes once more. He was staring out at the sea again.

  “Stai bene?” Mirabella asked.

  “The dead have no tongues.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Mirabella frowned.

  “A saying Rocco would use.”

&nb
sp; “Ah, yes, Rocco. I remember. I morti non hanno lingue. But they have secrets,” she said.

  He nodded. “So many secrets in this family.”

  “Too many for you to account for Gio. Let the secrets die with them,” she reasoned.

  “I can’t. Not this time.”

  “What choice do you have?”

  “That is the real problem. I have no choices. Mama, Patri, Vito, Rocco... Zia Isabella, and Flavio, all of them are gone. No second chances, no answers, just secrets, and now this truth. Nothing last forever, not faith, not love, not loyalty. Everything has a time limit, and everyone dies,” he said.

  “For them maybe, but not for us, Gio. Our love lasts forever.”

  “Of course, it does Bella. I am speaking on—.”

  “We are all loyal, we are. If he hadn’t been so foolish and lied about Giuseppe Calderone none of this would be happening. He—.”

  “Lorenzo.”

  “What?”

  “You can say his name. You’ve not mentioned it since we returned to Sicily.”

  “I can’t say it, I won’t.” Mirabella clenched her teeth and the word she wished to replace his name with remained bitterly stuck to her tongue. “He’s the one that should be here facing the dead today. He owes them the explanation Gio, not you.”

  Giovanni cast his gaze to his wife and reached for the explanation to give her peace. He remained silenced by her beauty. Under the mid-day sun her skin was radiated like bronze. Her tresses were blown smooth and back from her face. A flash of a past memory with his mother jumped out from his buried thoughts. The way the wind would thin Eve’s hair as she stood in the very same spot. A time long ago when Eve, too, held his hand in Mondello on cliffs like the ones above them while they faced the same sea. It was there she reminded him to be brave. His dear mother shared fears and bravery through stories of Ireland. There were many fables to conjure from her childhood. He favored the ones that told of fairies playing pranks on farmers and leprechauns hiding gold at the end of the rainbow. Though Mirabella and Eve didn’t compare physically, she inspired love in him just as his madre once did.