Page 4 of Ti Amo

Carlo shrugged. Carmine interjected. “Maybe the bomb scared her boss. None of you saw how bad she was when Flavio sent her away. She could have become fearful of Gio and ran.”

“We can’t tell Gio until we find out more.” Lorenzo said.

Carlo nodded. “Agreed.”

Both men lifted their guns and aimed.

“Wait? You can’t do this. You need me! I have the photos. You can’t kill me!”

“For Fabiana.” Lorenzo said. He pulled the trigger repeatedly until the gun clicked noisily, now empty of bullets. Lorenzo and Carmine did the same. What was left of Fish was barely recognizable from the pigeon shit and mucky rainwater splattered along the cobblestone alley.

****

“Hello?” Giovanni groaned, barely awake.

“He’s dead.” A voice said through the line.

Giovanni opened his eyes. The words were of no comfort. “Angelo?”

“We are still looking for him, Gio, but we got Fish and—.”

Giovanni slammed the phone down on the rest of Lorenzo’s excuses. He heaved a deep sigh, and then rolled over, back to his misery.

Chapter One

One week later

Muri, Switzerland

“Eve Fabiana Battaglia you come to Mommy now.” Mira placed her hands on her hips. The door to the pantry was flung wide behind her. At her feet were two spilled containers of grains and rice. She couldn’t believe a toddler could cause so much destruction. However, Eve was a smart girl. Stubborn and crafty, she slipped in and out of rooms until her mother heard a crash and saw her little feet pedal her away. This morning was no different. Never in her life had Mira seen a baby so fixated on a single treat. Eve usually spat out sweets, but oatmeal or chocolate cookies from the local bakery were her absolute favorite. She wasn’t quite two yet. Her birthday would arrive this January.

The other day they were in the kitchen, Mira intended to fix lunch, and Eve wanted cookies off the middle shelf in the pantry. She’d grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her to the food closet, pointing. Mira refused and kept at the business of prepping a sandwich of jam spread and peanut butter. Within minutes she looked over and found her daughter climbing the shelves like a little monkey trying to reach the bag of cookies. Scared her to death.

“Eve?” Mira said in a slightly raised voice.

Kei entered the kitchen from the opposite side. He sat down at the table with a paper in his hand for reading. Mira hoped he didn’t intervene. It irked her how he constantly came behind her and spoiled Eve or gave her whatever had prompted her temper tantrum. Since his arrival she’d been unable to convince Eve to sit on the potty. Her daughter just went to her diaper bag, collected one and walked it over to Kei for changing.

“What has my Little Rabbit done this morning?” Kei asked.

“Look!” Mira pointed to her feet and the spill. Kei chuckled.

Little Rabbit peeked around the corner of the kitchen cabinet at her while sucking hard and fast on a cherry red pacifier. The look of defiance on her cherubic face forced Mira to smile. Her mocha skin, a rich toffee-brown color, and her clear blue eyes under long dark lashes always seemed to twinkle with more wisdom than a babe of one and a half years should possess. If and when they ever visited the streets of Muri people would stop to compliment her and then frown up at her Black American mother and Chinese American father when she batted those round baby blues at them. They definitely made some pair. Eve wore yellow pajamas with the feet attached. Her hair was a riot of crinkly sandy brownish-blonde curls. She placed her tiny hand on the edge of the cornered wall and moved halfway into view.

“Andiamo,”Mira wiggled her finger.

Kei frowned to hear Mira speak Italian, and she purposefully ignored his reaction. She’d made a friend not far from the market. The lady visited twice a week to teach her lessons. This had gone on for nearly six months and she was becoming quite good. The first year of isolation Mira had struggled with German, which most of the population spoke. Eventually she lost interest in the language. With Eve she whispered in Italian and learned a nursery rhyme that her daughter nursed her breast to. Kei spoke Mandarin to her, and it seemed Eve had picked up on understanding him as well. The poor kid had so many different languages said to her at once it was a wonder she understood any of it.

“Come to Poppy, Little Rabbit,” Kei said. “Poppy will protect you.”

“Stay out of it, Kei. She has to learn better.”

Eve ducked from the corner and bolted to Kei full speed. Mira threw her hands up in defeat and turned to the mess covering the floor of the pantry. Rice and grains were spilled after a failed attempt to reach the cookie bag on the second shelf. Kei laughed, tickling a grinning Eve who had spit out her pacifier and melted into dimples and smiles. When she glanced back she saw how her daughter clung to him. They definitely made some pair.

It had been a wonderful Thanksgiving. Though it wasn’t celebrated in Switzerland, Mira went all out to make sure she had the traditional flavoring of home. She baked a turkey with all the trimmings. Eve had so much energy she danced for Kei until she collapsed in his arms and slept the rest of the day clinging to him.

Kei visited during the holidays mostly. His business in the states made those trips less frequent. In the past year and a half, he’d been to see her after the baby was born a total of six times.

Her daughter grunted and pushed at Kei’s chest to be let down. Mira lowered the dustpan to sweep up the mess and her little angel came to her side. Eve put her hands on both knees and squatted. She popped her pacifier back into her mouth from the string it dangled on and sucked hard and fast. Eve appeared to be fascinated with the cleanup.

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