Page 16 of The Sting of Love
“You sure?”
“Yeah. First thing I’ll do is talk to Mario.” And what a chat we’ll have indeed. Right now we suspect him so I’ll give the benefit of the doubt until we know he’s guilty. This is deep shit and he and his family have been part of the alliance for many years, the same as mine. These are deep accusations. We have to be sure.
“Yes, meet with him first, then Amadeo and Leo.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll update Lois and Saul in case there’s trouble,” I say.
They’re my right hand guys from Chicago. We’ve always travelled together when there’s danger so it was a given that they’d accompany me to Sicily for this trip. Having them around means I’ll have my ass covered if things get out of hand.
“Good.”
“Will you be okay in Calabria?” I have to ask because cartel guys are a whole other territory.
“I have to be. I’m gonna get Dante and Gio over there. This has to be handled by people we trust.”
I agree. Dante and Gio are capos to Claudius just like Alex. Together they’re called The Four. They’re the people you call when things get out of control and trust is called into question. I know Alex can handle Calabria but the fact that he’s bringing in the boys means he doesn’t trust anybody here.
“I’ll stay here with you,” Gibbs offers and looks in my direction.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate the help. I’ll set up a meeting with Amadeo tomorrow,” I state, and Alex nods.
“Amadeo isn’t going to like having his alliance terminated,” Gibbs says.
“No, but we could have been well and truly fucked because of him.”
Allegations like human trafficking bring in a whole investigation of everybody. I’ve seen it happen, and on this occasion, the feds would have had a real good head start if they’d gotten more evidence or even a lead.
“Okay, boys. Let’s do this,” Alex says, leaning forward. “Looks like trouble came after all.”
It always does. Never fails. There’s always something lurking around the corner, like a shadow against the night waiting to steal away anything that resembles a normal life.
My life has been anything but normal since I was twelve.
This is the second time today that I’ve thought of my mother and the way she died. Enemies came to kill her. It was a message to my father. They made me watch while they did it. Held me down and made me watch them kill her so I could tell him what happened.
I guess I’m thinking of her again because of Willow.
This shit today is another reason why I should leave her alone.
I play with the little crystal bracelet in my pocket. I’ll take it and keep it as something to remember her by.
Chapter Five
Willow
I look at the canvas before me with the half-done painting of the beach.
It’s taking shape, and I guess it would be something to be proud of if I were an average artist.
I’ve managed to capture the depths and hues of the mingle of turquoise and green that enrich the Mediterranean Sea, and I like how I’ve done the jagged rock formations.
Gazing out ahead, I confirm it. The depiction in my painting is striking and similar, but just like every other painting I’ve done this year, it’s missing something.
Dad always said that a true artist always leaves their signature style in their work. It could be some little thing. Anything from the technique in the brushstrokes to the actual objects in the painting itself.
For me it’s emotion. The way I paint shows emotion. I don’t use light colors for happiness, or darker colors for sadness. It wasn’t as simple as that at all. It was more the case of stirring emotion.
People can mimic and copy. I’ve felt like I’ve been doing that. When you paint with emotion, it’s different. It comes out in the work you’re doing, and others feel it.
