Page 59 of Ti Amo

The car jumped from the road and sped out along the sloping embankment through the forest. Franco screamed. Tree limbs and branches broke against the windshield as they plowed forward, shaking them about roughly. Dominic slammed on the brakes before crashing into a tree twice the size of the car.

Desperation made him act. Franco reached for the door handle and heard the click of a gun. His head slowly turned and he gazed into the barrel of a weapon leveled at his head.

“Figlio di puttana,” Dominic sneered.

“Giovanni doesn’t know does he? He doesn’t know you’ve been fucking your sister!”

“Catalina is not my sister.” Dominic said, but his voice wavered.

“Then let me speak to the Don. Let me plead my case. If you two aren’t brother and sister, let him decide our fates. You can’t, can you? Because you know. You know he would not order my death! Don’t do this. There is no good way this ends. None.” The smile of the devil dawned over Dominic’s face. Franco saw the truth in his eyes. “You don’t care. You really don’t care of the consequences. You are going to execute me in cold blood. You know she set us up. Catalina did this. She’s dangerous. She did this for revenge. I confess! Okay? I-I-I haven’t been faithful. I have my own cross to bear. I’ll leave her. I’ll tell the Don my shame and leave. I will give her a divorce or whatever. I’ll return to Sicily.”

Dominic slapped Franco across the face with the gun. The blow crashed through his skull and rattled his brain. He spat up blood, and it bled from his nostrils. The ringing in his ear muffled the hoarse threatening words he seethed. Franco slumped over to the door. Tears trekked down his cheeks. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die like this.

“Get the fuck out!” Dominic ordered.

“Please don’t kill me! Please!” His jaw pained him beyond belief.

Dominic wavered. He didn’t want to kill a man. He didn’t agree with violence though he’d learned at a young age to accept its inevitability. Ever since he was a little boy he’d lived through it. That’s why the Battaglia’s adopted him to make him a better man. Dominic nearly laughed at the irony. Being consigliere made him a man of honor. Being a Battaglia made him a man of wrath. May God forgive them all. “Get out now and maybe you have a chance. Sit there, and I kill you on general principle,” he said.

Franco opened the car door and dropped out on all fours. Dominic opened his door and got out as well. Just as he suspected the coward staggered to his feet, limped, and then ran out into the thicket of trees. Dominic raised the gun. He fired, and tore out the bark from the side of a tree. Franco ducked and ran faster. Dominic steadied his aim and fired again. Franco took the shot in his back and dropped to his knees. Dominic walked around to the boot of the car and popped it open. He reached inside and grabbed the shovel. He slammed it down. Here was as good of a place as any.

The body of Franco lay in the grass soaked in blood. Dominic tucked the gun in the back of his pants. He reached down and grabbed Franco’s wrist with one hand and held the shovel with the other. He dragged him deeper into the woods.

****

Kei dropped in his Mozart CD then picked up his glass of wine. Today he would receive word from Cheung. There was no better assassin than his cousin. In fact he was certain that Giovanni Battaglia would be dead soon. Cheung had arrived in Sorrento over twenty-four hours ago. The news should have come by now.

Patience wasn’t something he was used to. Mira and Eve were getting further and further away from him. He felt it. If Mira went public before Giovanni Battaglia was dead, his world too would come apart. He’d exhausted some pretty powerful resources to have her. He’d be damned if it was all done for naught.

If Cheung didn’t call tomorrow he’d take his jet to Italy and drag them home himself. This time he’d bring the media with his own story. Control the truth when the world learned that she was alive. It was a costly risk since he broke several laws himself. He dropped in his chair. Taking a sip of his merlot he stared out of the penthouse window at the lights over Central Park. Revealing the truth had to be handled carefully. If Mira got ahead of him, the truth could blow out his future. And if she learned that she was never in witness protection he’d have to answer to the authorities about the cover-up of Angelique’s and Eduardo’s deaths. The devil would be in the details.

A noise to the front of the penthouse drew his attention. Kei sat forward. He set his merlot glass on the coaster scanning the dark hall that separated his lounge area from the front of the penthouse. He reached in the sofa cushion and removed his .45.

Slow and silent he rose and turned off the lamp nearest to him. Someone had bumped furniture. In pajama pants and bare feet he headed toward the front of the penthouse, turning off lights as he went. As soon as he entered the hall he saw three men in ski masks. Their eyes met. The one in the middle lifted his gun, equipped with a silencer, and began to fire.

Kei dove.

“Get that motherfucker!” he heard one of them yell—his brogue was heavy, Brooklyn maybe, definitely Italian. The idiots charged straight after him. None of them were prepared for Kei’s weapon of choice. He picked off the first two, running easily into the hall. He shot one between the eyes, the other in the leg. The man wailed like a child.

He yelled out something in Italian to the one who didn’t reappear. Kei heard feet running for the door.

Kei stepped over to the man who was crawling across the floor for the hall. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants. The man continued to whimper and crawl smearing dark blood over his blonde teak wood floors. Kei picked up the phone, and his glass of wine, and then walked over to the man. In his struggle he’d lost his gun. All he did now was pull himself across the floor. Kei kicked the man in his wounded leg. The poor fool howled in agony. Kei took a sip of his wine. “Hello police. I think I’ve shot intruders. Come quickly please.”

Kei smirked. Was this the best Giovanni Battaglia had? Bringing Mira home would be easier than he thought.

Chapter Eleven

“Wake up.”

Mira blinked awake.Her head fell over to the left. Eve slept on Giovanni’s chest. Crinkly hair covered her baby’s face. Giovanni must have brought her out of her crib sometime in the night. Smiling Mira drew the blanket up over them both.

“She’s beautiful.”

Startled Mira’s gaze swung left. Fabiana stood at the edge of the bed. She wore the same yellow dress she’d last seen her in. Her scarlet red hair cascaded around her face.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare like you’ve seen a ghost or something?” she chuckled.

“I’m dreaming.”

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