La Famiglia Page 41

  “Signor?” the doctor said.

  His gaze lifted in time to see the first of his boys pulled from between his wife’s legs. Apparently they had to take the baby naturally. Giovanni left her side to be witness to the tiniest living human being he’d ever seen. The baby made no noise. The cord was cut and the little one was hurried away.

  “Is he-e-e-e okay?” Giovanni stammered.

  The doctors began to work frantically. When Giovanni glanced over he saw Bella had been cut surgically. With clamps opening the incision the doctor removed a bloody baby who did let out a startled cry. So small and fragile was he that Giovanni could barely speak. He’d seen a lot in his life including the death of his own father. But nothing made him weak with humility the way the sight of his boys entering the world did.

  The specialist that shadowed the doctor left his side and Buhari glanced up to Giovanni. In his eyes he recognized the truth. Something was wrong.

  “She’s hemorrhaging,” he heard the doctor say. “We will try to save her uterus. But I make no promises. The damage is…”

  “Save her first. That is your priority,” Giovanni said. He’d give up the future of any other kids to have his wife.

  The nurse touched his hand. “Signor, you must go with the boys. Go, let the doctors help her.”

  He was torn as to what to do. He glanced back and saw the babies pushed out in separate clear boxes. He didn’t want to leave Mira. With her in the state she was in. But he had to see his sons. The choice split him in half. The nurse helped him decide by gently pushing him out the door. They weren’t taken far. He walked into the next room to seem them both being tubed. He could see their little feet and hands move. He stood at a respectable space.

  “Their names?” the nurse asked.

  “He is Gianni, and the one who cried. He… he’s Gino,” Giovanni said. The nurse patted his back.

  “Congratulazioni, they’re beautiful,” she said.

  Giovanni pulled down his mask from his mouth. “They are.”

  14.

  Carini was a very old village with buildings made of stone architecture and tall cathedral doors that dated as far back as to Spanish occupation. Carlo drove through the village square. He decided to continue his search along the narrowed single-lane alleys that led in, around, and out of the heart of the city in search of Leonardo’s car.

  Leonardo drove a black two-seater with a red stripe that went from the boot over the roof and down the front hood of the car. It would be hard to miss. And though he was thorough in his search he wasn’t hopeful that he’d find her. She was probably in Palermo headed for the train or airport to get the fuck out of Sicily. It’s what Carlo would have done if he were a woman running from men like him and Lorenzo.

  After a thirty-minute drive through every road open to him he considered abandoning the search. That was until he travelled down via delle Scuole. Parked curbside of a building was Leonardo’s car. Carlo braked. He reversed and checked the car out. It was definitely Leonardo’s. He swerved into the vacant spot ahead of it. The location felt odd. Where would she go?

  Two men full of spirits stumbled from the doors of the pub. They roared with laughter, and slapped each other on the back. They stopped several others and pointed at the bar and encouraged them to go inside. Curious over the excitement Carlo exited his car. He hit the sidewalk walking fast to the pub. And was stunned at what he discovered inside.

  On the bar danced a seductive Marietta Battaglia. She turned up a jug of wine and drank it dry before hurling it across the bar nearly hitting a patron. Many of the men laughed and cheered. She rolled her hips and began to pull the short hem of her mini dress up to reveal her beauty for the men. Carlo smiled and enjoyed the show for a moment, before the jeering of the men pushed him to act. The few women in the bar looked on horrified.

  Once he approached several of the men recognized him. The ones that didn’t got shoved to the ground or thrown out of his way while the wise quickly retreated to avoid him.

  “That’s enough, sweetheart. Get down!” he shouted at her. When Marietta saw him she started to run. She kicked over customers’ drinks and nearly had a fatal slip on the spillage. He lunged for her and caught her by the legs. Marietta could have fought back, but to do so would have sent her sprawling over the bar to the floor. He forced the screaming woman over his shoulder. Her bare ass was up for all to see. Carlo made sure to smack her hard on it to calm her down. Marietta bit hard into his back and he grunted but kept going. Angered from the spanking she screamed like a wild cat and started hitting and bucking to be free of his hold. When he reached the door he saw a man with her thong panty on his head. He glared at the man and the guy quickly handed them over. Without missing a beat he kicked the door to the bar open and stormed out into the street.

  People stopped in shock as Marietta cursed and shouted in Italian that she was being kidnapped. She yelled at those watching the scene for someone to call the polizia. Carlo laughed. He patted her bare ass again, unable to deny the opportunity to touch her once more.

  “Let me go!” she wept.

  He opened the door to the back of the car and put her inside. She scooted away from him but didn’t try to flee out of the other door. Something in the way he stared at her must have communicated he was tired of the chase. Carlo threw her panties in after her and closed the door. He got behind the wheel and sped away.

  “Leeeeeeeet me oooooooooooout!” she screamed and kicked the back of his seat.

  Carlo turned up the radio. Marietta tried to open her car door and he cut the wheel of the car to the left almost throwing her out. His erratic driving forced her to close the door. “You are such an asshole. You’re a fucking perverted asshole! You let me out now!”

  “Can’t do that, love. Your husband wants you,” Carlo reached in the glove compartment and got out his cigarettes. He put one between his lips as he eyed her from the rearview mirror.

  “Lorenzo? He’s alive?” she asked, wiping at her tears. Relief flooded her heart. She saw Lorenzo on the floor, bleeding. She left him there. Carlo stared at her in the rearview mirror and their eyes met. She wouldn’t let the bastard see her broken. None of them would ever break her. Marietta let go a bitter laugh. “Of course he’s alive. You can’t kill the devil. No matter what,” she said to disguise her hurt.

  “What’s with the whore show I walked in on? You put every man in that bar at risk. Do you know that? Lorenzo will kill anyone that mentions seeing your lady parts.”

  “My what? Oh you mean pussy? The one you were staring at?” Marietta tossed back. Carlo laughed. Marietta crossed her arms. “I don’t care! Tell him what you saw. I don’t give a shit about none of you!” she shouted.

  “Oh you care. You did that to piss him off. Bad move,” Carlo chuckled. He cut the wheel again and she was thrown hard into the door. Marietta suffered a strong bought of carsickness. She drank too much wine. But she didn’t say another word. She couldn’t. She was relieved that Lorenzo wasn’t dead. Relieved that he didn’t find her in the bar humiliating herself that way. But she remained too disillusioned by her hatred to say thank you to Carlo for saving her from herself.

  Carlo glanced up to the rearview mirror again. He couldn’t help himself. A woman’s tears never got to him. But hers did. He couldn’t summon the words to comfort her. But he understood her misplaced rage. And he also remembered a time when he felt his lowest and how she fed and cared for him. He took the country roads to his mother’s villa. They arrived in twenty minutes. When he stopped she finally lifted her head and he could see her looking around in a panicked state.

  “Don’t take me back,” she pleaded in a soft voice full or remorse.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I can’t. Let me go, please. You said you’d give me money to leave him. To disappear? I’ll take it. I’ll go away and I’ll never come back. Help me,” Marietta said.

  “I thought you loved him?” Carlo asked.

  “If I s
tay we’ll just keep hurting each other,” she said.

  Carlo got out of the car. Marietta bolted from the door to the other side of the vehicle.

  “Fuck!” he grunted and ran her down. She fought him but he got a good hold on her and half carried, half dragged her to his mother’s cottage. “You fucking bastard! Get your hands off me!”

  “Damn it, woman! Enough of this bullshit!” he shouted as he forced her into his sister’s room. She literally tripped over her own feet and fell back on the bed. He reached in his pocket and threw her panties at her that she dropped when she ran out of the car. “I’ll page Lo and tell him to collect you.”

  “You’re such a fucking idiot!” she shouted at him as he walked to the door. He threw up his hand as if to blow the comment off. “You think Lorenzo gives a shit about you? Huh? He killed your brother you stupid fuck.”

  Carlo paused.

  “Che cazzo dici?” he asked.

  Marietta glanced around the room. There was nothing to use as a weapon. She was trapped. And from what Lorenzo told her of Carlo to be trapped with him alone would never be a good thing. But she refused to back down. Not even when her mind screamed she should. She flipped off the bed and backed up until there was good distance between them. “I said he killed Carmine!” she challenged him. “Set up, used him and killed him dead.”

  Carlo approached her. Marietta swallowed hard. He was before her now. So close he could touch her if he wanted. Marietta dared him with her unwavering stare to do so. She may be petite compared to his huge frame but she was quick and she knew how to hurt a man if needed. Her adoptive father had forced her to learn how to defend herself after years of his abuse.

  “Che cazzo dici?” he repeated. He slammed his fist into the wall next to her head. “Say it to my face,” he said and the words came over barely above a whisper but chillingly clear. A knot of cold terror formed in her gut. Marietta never looked away from his eyes. Those piercing eyes that were now void of his sardonic humor. His face was close. He bared his teeth in a sly smile and it reminded her of the smile like that of a mad dog. His nostrils flared and his face flushed with contemptuous black-layered rage in his eyes.

  Marietta cleared her throat. “Say what?”

  “Say it!” he shouted.

  “What are you going to do if I don’t? Punish me? You get off on beating women. Is that it? Lorenzo told me you were a psycho-freak!”

  He dropped his other fist on the wall. Now both fists were pressed to the wall and she was caught between his arms. He brought his face closer. She bumped her head back against the wall to avoid their lips brushing. Fear wasn’t what she felt when she looked into his eyes. Primal urges surfaced.

  “It’s a lie,” Carlo said. “You’re a lying bitch.”

  “And you’re a punk, a worthless thug who can’t think for himself. A bastard. Nothing but a—”

  “Bugiarda!” he yelled.

  Marietta shrugged refusing to deny the truth. He brought his face so close his forehead rested against hers. “Don’t push me. Don’t…”

  There was no escape. She had effectively taken her anger and frustration and made it his. And why had she done so? To torment him? To force his hand? Why was it so easy for her to hurt people when she knew how badly it felt?

  “I lied,” she said. “I said it to piss you off.” She shoved at his chest. “Now get off me!”

  His gaze lifted under his lowered brow. Marietta’s hands never lifted from his chest. He felt hot under her palms. Was his skin always feverish, or only when he was pissed? She ran her hand smoothly down raw muscle. His dark gaze remained locked on her and hers on him.

  “I shouldn’t have said it, Carlo. But you called me a bitch! You shouldn’t have said that,” she breathed. “Right?”

  Why hadn’t he moved? His stance, the way he looked at her, she felt trapped. He needs to move away from me. Marietta ran both her hands back up his chest slowly until she reached his neck. She cupped the back of his neck and pulled herself from the wall closer to his mouth. He had mean lips because of the vile things he’d say and the sly smiles he gave. But at the moment they were the most kissable lips, a deep unrelenting temptation. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the look of pain in his eyes when she told him Lorenzo killed his brother. She didn’t bother to further rationalize the meaning. She acted on impulse. Before he could escape, before she could rethink her actions she brought her lips to his. Carlo turned his head away and she kissed the corner of his mouth.

  “Carlo,” she breathed against his ear. “Kiss me.”

  His gaze returned to her. His left fist left the wall and his hand went down her hip. Her lips were a mere centimeter from his. “You know you want to.”

  His forehead pressed to hers as his hand went beneath her skirt to caress up her thigh. He grabbed her right butt cheek and squeezed. He brushed his lips against hers. Marietta’s eyelids fluttered as his tongue gently grazed the seam of her lips and she parted her lips for the sweep. Her fingers and toes curled as if an electric current went through her pussy.

  Marietta opened her mouth fully for the kiss. She shook with the effort to remain standing. Carlo was slow to bring the kiss to closure. She could kiss him for the rest of her days. She dragged his breath into her lungs as she accepted his invading tongue. Carlo crushed her to the wall and ravished her. His large hands gripped her waist to keep her pinned to him as the steel groin between his legs pressed hard up against her sex. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. Marietta struggled for control beneath the ravishment of his kiss and with the powerful push of his body frame pinning her to the wall. She was soon his. Carlo lifted her and she brought her legs around his waist. He kissed her face and neck. Together they went down on the bed.

  “The things I want to do to you,” Carlo breathed deeply. He brought down the front of her dress and lifted his head from her neck. He gazed down at her breasts. He dragged the garment lower. He stared at the piercing in her navel. His gaze flickered up to hers. She said nothing.

  We should stop. We need to stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Her inner voice shouted in response to the voice screaming yes, yes, yes in her head. Carlo lowered his face, flickered his tongue at her navel piercing while twisting her left nipple until the pleasure was tight and unrelenting. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to punish Lorenzo. She hadn’t realized she was crying until Carlo stopped.

  She opened her eyes and he stared at her.

  “I want it. I do…”

  “Sei una donna bugiarda,” he wheezed hard. He withdrew. “Bugiarda!”

  “I’m not lying…” She tried to bring him back to her but he knocked her hands away and stormed out of the room slamming the door. Stunned. Marietta screamed and rolled over to beat her fist against the bed. She broke down sobbing.

  * B *

  Lorenzo received the page half way through Palermo. Carlo had her. He’d drove around with no sighting. The longer he couldn’t find her the more desperate he became. It took Lorenzo thirty minutes to make it to Carlo’s mother’s house. And he arrived to find his friend sitting outside smoking a hand rolled cigarillo possibly laced with marijuana.

  “She inside?” he asked as soon as he was out of the car.

  Carlo glared at him. The way his friend looked at him slowed his approach. He knew an angry Carlo and what greeted him was fury.

  “Is she inside?”

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill my brother,” Carlo said.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Where’s Marietta?” Lorenzo shouted.

  Carlo flicked his cigarillo. He exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Carmine. How did it go down?”

  “We’ve been through this, Carlo. You know how it went down. Fuck! You want to do this now?” Lorenzo seethed. Carlo looked him over and stepped back. He wasn’t sure if his best friend would take a swing or walk away. The look in Carlo’s eyes said he was on the edge.

  “Do you have her?”
Lorenzo asked again clearly.

  Carlo smirked. “Yeah. I had her.”

  “Had? What the fuck does that mean—had?” Lorenzo stepped in his face. Carlo didn’t back away. “Where is she?”

  “She’s inside. She’s upset. That’s what happened. We’re brothers right?” Carlo asked.

  Lorenzo stepped even closer. His face so close their noses nearly touched. “Just so we’re clear. You ever lay a hand on her I’ll kill you, brother.”

  Carlo smiled. “Right… because a brother should never betray another.” He strolled off to his car. Got behind the wheel and sped away.

  Marietta observed the men from the window. When Carlo drove off Lorenzo’s gaze switched to the window and she let the drape go. She found her underwear and pulled them on. To her surprise the front of her dress did have a tear. Panicked she tried to fix it. Nothing she did compensated for the rip. So she smoothed her hands back over her curly hair and wiped away her tears, preparing for her husband.

  Lorenzo threw open the door.

  Her stomach cramped at the sight of him. It wasn’t the reaction she expected. She was still furious with him. But one look at him and her courage drained from her bones. The side of his face was bruised with dried blood from a scratch just above his brow. How many times has she seen him hurt by her hand or another? Too many to count and yet he always remained standing. Like an unchangeable force forged in a world set against him. That is not what she wanted for them. He was her partner. They were a team. Until now.

  Marietta had to avert her gaze. Lorenzo closed the door behind him. She crossed her arms to the front of her breasts and kept her eyes trained to the floor. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Do you hear me? I don’t want you anywhere near me. In fact we’re done. I want a divorce.”