Chapter 28 #2
“Do I, though? You sneaked into my home, surely armed, while my children sleep upstairs.”
“And if I’d wanted to do you harm, I would’ve. I wouldn’t have been so relaxed as to be caught if my goal was to kill any of you. I just want information.”
“Why’re you so convinced it’s my family, Vittoria? If anyone were to go after you, it would end the alliance with your family.”
“I’m a gun for hire. The rules don’t apply to me the way they do other women. Someone put the hit on Alejandro. And because I didn’t carry it out, I’m now a target too. I’m curious why someone wants to kill Alejandro right now. But I’m more curious why they’d target me as well.”
“You know about this job, and you failed yours. You switched sides. The hunter became the hunted.”
“Plenty of mercenaries fail to complete jobs without being killed, so why the death sentence for me?”
“We need to move this conversation to my office. I don’t want the girls to overhear if they wake.”
Salvatore leads Sylvia and me to his office where he has a biometric keypad to open the door. I’m certain the numeric code that goes along with the fingerprint is more highly guarded than the Vatican’s gold.
“Vittoria, despite you breaking into my home, I’m still glad to see you safe. What your aunt did…”
Sylvia’s expression hardens as she trails off.
She and Zia Cosima never got along. Sylvia never cared whether she was the most beautiful woman in the room, but Zia Cosima did.
She couldn’t stand Sylvia’s effortless grace always outshone her hardened beauty.
My aunt saw a competition in everything, and Sylvia didn’t give a shit.
That made her far more attractive to people than Zia Cosima’s features ever did.
“I’m finding betrayal comes in many flavors right now. Apparently, my aunt not only betrayed me, but our people.”
I wait for any reaction from either of them. I’ll only get what they’re willing to give, which is nothing.
“Ah, so you found out about Cosima’s love life. She spent an awful lot of time going to Reggio. Why no one questioned her love of that shithole is beyond me.”
Of course, the Sicilian thinks Reggio—the capital of the Calabria region—is a shithole.
I’m Venetian and agree. But once again, there’s a hierarchy within the Mafia, and Sicilians would prefer they never be lumped in with those of us from il continente—the continent—mainland Italy.
They’d also prefer to think they’re the only ones who merit a capital M, but Mafia is as Mafia does.
“It’s unfortunate you don’t pick your men very well, Vittoria. First, Zorzi, the illegitimate son of the ’Ndrangheta don. The oldest child, but never able to inherit. Then, your co-conspirator at the gala. And finally, Alejandro. Why couldn’t you settle down with a nice boy from Venice?”
If Salvatore’s tone weren’t so fucking patronizing, his expression might be one of a kindly uncle. I half expect the next words out of his mouth to be, “you should smile more.” I know he’s doing it to goad me, so I won’t let it work.
But it’s an effort.
“If you know about Zia Cosima and Zorzi, and you know about Patrick, then help me understand what’s really going on. Who hired me?”
I look between the couple, and neither shows any sign they’ll cooperate. Fucking infuriating. I knew they likely wouldn’t, but I’m risking everything with Alejandro for this. I need something. Eventually, Salvatore relents.
“Vittoria, you’re looking in the wrong places.”
“What?”
“The person who hired you isn’t Italian. However, I suspect the person who ordered the hit on you is.”
“They’re separate?”
“Yes. Poor coincidence.”
That leaves my mind scrambling.
“So, the person who ordered the hit on Alejandro—are they here in the U.S.?”
“That’s my best guess. It could be from somewhere else. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve at least ruled out the four Mafias for that. Who you pissed off enough to want to kill you is beyond me. I haven’t found that yet.”
“Have you been looking that hard?”
I should’ve stopped while I was ahead. The moment the words tumble from my mouth, both Sylvia and Salvatore glare at me. I sound incredibly ungrateful. I’m certainly not making friends and influencing people with this attitude.
“My apologies, Don Salvatore. I’m not exactly at my best right now.”
“Understandable.”
“I’m trying to determine which attacks were about Alejandro and which were about me. Zia Cosima said it was the Galicians who went after Alejandro, but I don’t think that’s right. I think she spewed lies.”
“She most certainly did. Almost every other word out of that woman’s mouth was a lie if she wasn’t in the classroom. How somebody so wretched could be so good with children absolutely defies all reason.”
Clearly, Sylvia was not a fan of my aunt, even in death. Her conscience doesn’t bother her to speak ill of the dead.
“If it wasn’t the ’Ndrangheta after Alejandro, could they still be after me? And the kidnapping and explosion were just wrong time, wrong place for Alejandro?”
Salvatore cocks an eyebrow. “Possibly. My guess is those were two separate events. Somebody tried to cash in on your zia already having the two of you tied up.”
“So, my zia kidnaps us to get to me. And then whoever wants to take out Alejandro blew up the warehouse.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case.”
“If this wasn’t about punishing me for an unfinished job, what have I done to piss off somebody else enough for them to order my death?”
I speak my thoughts aloud, and Salvatore and Sylvia’s expressions match. They basically silently ask me how stupid can I be when the list is a mile long? I have over one hundred and fifty confirmed kills. That leaves a lot of families and employers pissed off.
“Assuming it’s not your family or my people, could it be the Camorras working with the ’Ndrangheta?”
Salvatore shakes his head. “No. I highly doubt that. They prefer to stick closer to home right now after all that went wrong and started this petty war.”
“Okay, if you’re right that it isn’t one of the four Mafia, then why did Zorzi and Zia Cosima work together?”
Revulsion flashes across Salvatore’s face. “Don Pasquale wasn’t the woman’s only lover.”
I jerk back; my revulsion making my throat burn.
My zia really took my sloppy seconds? Or God, could it have been she was with Zorzi when we were teens? Was it some sick Mrs. Robinson fetish, and I’m the sloppy seconds?
Makes me want to vomit just thinking about it.
“Whatever her reason, do you believe she enlisted his help?”
“Most likely. He may have been an idiot, but he was a capable idiot.”
“The possibility remains it could be the ’Ndranghetas’ don who’s after me, but not anyone from the Carosis or Torettas or the Camorras.”
“That’s right, but my money’s still on someone outside the Italians or Sicilians.”
I stare Salvatore dead in the eye. His heterochromia’s almost hypnotic.
“And it wasn’t you?”
“You’ve been Serafina’s friend since you were both in diapers. I’ve always considered you extended family, Vittoria. Mercenary or not, I don’t murder women, and I don’t murder family.”
“You might not, but would you hire someone to do it for you?” I hold my breath, fully expecting Salvatore to kick me out if Sylvia lets me live long enough.
“No, I did not.”
“Thank you.”
I can attempt graciousness at least once in this conversation.
I run through all the confusing, circular arguments.
Salvatore doesn’t believe it’s the Mala del Brenta, Cosa Nostra, ’Ndrangheta, or the Camorras.
However, he’s not entirely ruling out the ’Ndrangheta since Zia Cosima was banging Don Pasquale, and Zorzi was the man’s illegitimate son by another woman. She banged both of them.
Whoever took out the hit on Alejandro isn’t the same person after me. The person who hired me is likely in the States, but my persecutor could be from anywhere. Alejandro and I are in danger because of each other and on our own.
“Where do I look here in the U.S.?”
è come cercare un fottuto ago in un fottuto pagliaio. It’s looking for a fucking needle in a motherfucking haystack.
“I don’t believe it’s anyone in the city, but it could be Boston, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Chicago, L.A.
, San Francisco, Miami. The list’s too long to simply guess where to begin.
I don’t have an answer for that, Vittoria.
That’s something your new family will have to figure out for your sake.
And for your sake alone, I will intervene if I can, not just to keep you alive, but Alejandro as well.
Has your father had anything to say about your future husband? ”
I shake my head.
It’s the same in all Four Families here in New York. It seems a foregone conclusion that when any of these men finally date, it’s with the purpose of marrying. None do it casually or to pass the time, even to avoid loneliness. It’s all or nothing with all of them.
That’s why it no longer jars me to hear people speak as though Alejandro and I are already engaged. Just as it didn’t take long for me to adjust to the idea of being with him, it took next to no time to adjust to other people’s belief that we’re together.
“I need to get going. I have somewhere else to be before I go back to Alejandro’s.”
Salvatore cringes.
The fucking don of New York City—of the Eastern Seaboard—of all the motherfucking United States just cringed.
Fuck my life.
“Remember, he’s a big guy like Gabriele. Whatever you drugged him with is likely to wear off far faster than you expect.”
I merely nod, not wanting to confess my sins aloud. It surprises me, but I appreciate the hugs Salvatore and Sylvia give me. This time, I use the front door and walk out the property gate and neighborhood gate without skulking.
I glance at the clock on the dash as I start the car. I have just enough time to make it to my meeting with Patrick. The burner rings, and I glance down.
Double fuck my life.