Chapter 19
Mario
Don Conti’s home towered over the countryside and the Tyrrhenian Sea.
The land was divided into minor villas and farm estates, with one exception, the ancient castle-like structure that once served as fortress, seat of power, smuggling hub, and most recently represented the crumbling grasp of a once proud family.
Four armed guards met our party at the gate. Their automatic weapons were displayed openly. Somewhere behind the thick stone walls guarded by multiple watch towers, my grandfather waited.
I walked in alone and stripped of any weapon they found.
But my hands were intact. My tongue rested behind my teeth, and my calculating mind worked overtime to measure the distances, find the weaknesses behind the walls, plot rally points, scan for rust on the iron bars across the windows, and determine the fastest escape route out of this maze of buildings that clawed deeply into the hillside.
Over the centuries, additions had been added for comfort, or fashion. Only the main building and its attached kitchens and sub-kitchens and wine cellars were built for a full-fledged assault.
This fit my plan perfectly.
Don Conti’s study sat near the base of the eastern tower.
The staircase attached to the main hall but was narrow and twisted upon itself like a squared cobra.
The hallway at the second-floor landing flanked a small balcony where you could see the room below or the rafters above.
It would be an excellent place to position a sniper.
I logged that information as I entered Don Conti’s office.
My grandfather idled on the couch. Near him were two guards, armed with handguns and knives, and perhaps more. His captors had taken his coat, his shoes, and likely stripped him before allowing him to wear the rumpled clothes on his back.
He appeared uninjured. That was good.
His face was carefully composed. The lids of his eyes hung at half-mast dulling the light lurking under them. He was placid, and plotting.
“Nipito.” His endearment for me wasn’t spoken with the usual warmth. It was as cold as a knife in winter.
“Grandfather.” My greeting wasn’t warm, but it held a note of civility that his had lacked. “Were you too slow? Or did you mean for them to catch you?”
“Shut up, boy.” He spat out the command bitterly.
I should obey. The code demanded I respect my elders.
And yet, the code was also designed to remind men like me that respect is earned, fought for, and handed out with closed fists and open eyes.
Standing near the fireplace was a solicitor from Father’s arsenal. The stack of papers on the table next to him stank of his touch. They were another betrayal carefully plotted by an elder who’d grown too accustomed to politics and who’d forgotten love until it was too late to salvage the loss.
The four guards who’d escorted me to this place split into two camps. One pair guarded the outside hallway from invasion, and the pair inside took each side of the door as my jailers.
Don Conti enthroned himself behind a large desk.
Behind him, his daughter loomed like a vulture.
The wall at their backs was constructed of stone so ancient it was likely ripped from the foundations of the world.
There were no windows or escape routes in sight.
Fighting my way out of this mess would not be easy.
With one reinforced door, four guards, and a maze of castle hallways behind me, it appeared hopeless.
But fighting wasn’t the only way out.
“I’m here, release my grandfather.”
“After I kill you.” Don Conti glared at me. Scattered across his desk were photos of his son’s dead body.
“For what? Those images lie.”
The contempt on his face was obvious. “You are a coward, a betrayer, a murderer, and a perfidious serpent.”
I could own the murderer title. Being called a lying snake wasn’t as comfortable, but it still fit the truth. Betrayer? Unlikely.
Coward? Never. “I walked into your doors on my own power. I was not dragged here, nor do I avoid my fate.” I was not that word.
He tipped his head, as if barely acknowledging the woman on his left hand. “My daughter’s marriage to you was arranged. You ran to my son to beg him to change my mind. And when he said he could not, you killed him.”
“Hardly. I went to Chicago to offer a different bargain. Your son was unwise to refuse it.”
Don Conti slammed his hand to the surface of the desk and rose from his seat to send his death glare at me more directly. “You killed him!”
The nearest photo had fluttered toward me, twisting as if Don Conti’s will had turned it so I could see it better.
“Guns are the tools of amateurs. Your son was shot. I would not stoop so low.”
“You lie.”
It was time to change tactics. “Your American holdings are floundering because of poor leadership.
Your assets here are frozen or locked in trust. Your banks owe fines you cannot pay.
Your family needs three hundred million to remain operational through the end of the year.
I offered Adelmo that amount, and an additional investment of one hundred and sixty million backed by Edward in Las Vegas if he simply signed over his American holdings.
He wanted to discuss it with you, as he should.
“The next morning, I read of his death in the papers. They conveniently avoided the term, murder. I suppose that was your influence?” In the subtext of my speech was a threat.
Don Conti, or someone in the family paid the police and witnesses to claim it was an auto accident.
The death of his heir was unfortunate, but murdering his heir proved there was a hole in his protection.
It meant his influence was weaker than anyone had imagined.
In all things, Don Conti abhorred appearing weak.
“And you fled Chicago like the coward you are,” he growled.
“I met with Edward to arrange a meeting with you. He has not reached out?”
“You murdered my son, you fled the field, and you spurned my daughter.”
At the mention of her, I glanced up to read her expression. Her face was colder than her father’s. An icy mask rather than rage. She watched me with unwavering intensity.
“I didn’t know you cared for me in that way.” There was no kindness in my tone. She deserved none.
“Enough.” My grandfather rose to his feet. His guards tensed, their hands going to the weapons under their jackets. By doing so, they betrayed their dominant hands. I logged this information. “My grandson is married to another. We will leave now.”
“The woman he married was involved in the plot to murder my brother,” Dianora declared.
Don Conti pulled out another photo and laid it on top of the others.
In it, Ellie waited on tables. Her apron and tray provided all the visual confirmation I needed to know who it was without looking at the image more closely.
Even so, my eyes scanned the flow of her hair from right to left.
The softer arch of her brow and the curve of her nose confirmed her identity.
Another photo dropped beside it. Allie. She was on my arm in a sage green dress that flowed over her body like water. The gold ring on her finger prettily displayed for the world to see.
A final photo, this one blurry and taken from a great distance. The woman in it rode in a motorized gondola. On her right, Ringo sat in profile. His gaze monitored the surroundings for threats.
“This woman embedded herself at your side quickly, but spends time meeting with assassins who gladly accepted the job to kill you. Is she a snake you held to your bosom, or your accomplice?”
Don Conti barely paused before pointing at my grandfather. “Or is this part of his plot to destroy my legacy?”
The shift of Dianora’s gaze to her father’s outburst betrayed the hint of a smile tightening the corners of her eyes. She quickly remarked and pointed at me, but spoke to Don Manca. “Disavow this one and my father agrees to let you live in peace until your death.”
“Daughter, do not speak for me.”
Her face tightened.
Don Conti addressed my grandfather. “If, and only if, after your grandson marries my daughter and leaves me with an heir, a male heir, then he can live, and we will call the truce you suggested.”
“I’d rather fuck death,” I said.
In his anger, Don Conti swept all the papers on his desk to the floor. “That will be arranged soon enough!”
“I am married,” I reminded the room.
“The papers.” Don Conti addressed my father’s solicitor who complied quickly.
“And, bring the woman in.”
And with barely a breath, my careful plans unraveled.
Dianora smirked at me. “We caught your bride trying to escape.”
My heart clenched.
Allie walked placidly beside Dianora’s cousin, Leandro.
Not that he gave her much of an option. His fingers dug into her arm.
Her linen jacket was wrinkled, the blouse underneath pulled loose on one side.
Her pants were stained with water and mud.
There was a tear at one knee, and a darker stain from blood tinted the ragged edges.
The neat ponytail she’d fixed this morning fell half-undone.
Her head hung low, as if she were ashamed.
She should not be. If anything, my guards should bear eternal shame for failing to protect her.
My hands shook with anger. I’d kill them all once I left this place. If I left this place.
She raised her chin and looked at me with tears collected at the outer edges of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
My heart ran cold. “You betrayed me.”
“I didn’t, I swear.”
I bent over, carefully pulling the gondola photo from the disarray. “Tell me this isn’t you with the man who is trying to kill me.”
She barely glanced at the photo. Her mouth pursed into a tightly locked chest of lies. It quivered with fear. She searched my eyes frantically.
“Tell me!” I shoved it at her, crumpling the page.
“It is.”
I whirled on my grandfather. “You knew about this? Is that why you let yourself get caught?”
He stared at me. His eyes fully open for the first time since I walked in. “If I had proof she was unfaithful, I would have killed her myself.”
That was enough introspection. I was a man of action, not remorse. “My grandfather will leave now. I will negotiate the rest of this truce.”
“Mario, please, I can explain—” A soft hand hit my sleeve, and I shoved her away.
“Be quiet, wife.”
“Be sure you collect your ring,” Don Manca pointed at the band on her finger. “It sits wrong on her finger.”
It did.
“Don Conti?” Grandfather paused, flanked by the guards escorting him.
“What?” The disrespectful sharpness in Don Conti’s tone grated on my spine.
“The truce will be for one year only. We will renegotiate once I see my great grandson.”
Don Conti smiled. “I knew you’d see reason.”
A frown graced Grandfather’s face. “Reason? No. You forget I come from a very large family. Many brothers. Many sons. Many grandsons. I can afford to let this one breed as he likes. But the others? They are not as forgiving. You will renegotiate in one year with my heir. I have many to pick from. You have…” he trailed off and studied Dianora for a moment before finishing, “…none.”
My grandfather’s chin went up, and his affected stoop straightened. His hands swung loosely as if he were in his thirties, not nineties. His guards opened the door to escort him out.
A commotion outside halted his progress. Ringo swaggered down the hallway, as if the men guarding him were his buddies, not his sworn enemies. He barely tipped his head at Don Manca as he passed.
“Traitor,” I heard my grandfather whisper.
“Finish the job.” Ringo’s utterance was a single line from the code.
The full stanza echoed in my mind.
It did so in my grandfather’s voice.
Don Manca fired words at Ringo’s back. “Finish this opera before it finishes us all.”
Ringo stepped inside the study and swept his eyes around the room. They landed on the woman who’d betrayed me. “Hey, honey, I’m home.” Then he addressed Don Conti and tipped his head toward me. “Can I kill him yet? I want my payday.”
“You followed him here?” Don Conti asked.
“Damn straight.” He muttered the next part at me, “You’re making this too easy. Again.”
I ignored him. “I should introduce you to my wife, but I believe you already know her.”
Ringo’s crooked leer was wider than usual. His eyes traveled over the torn knees, the wrinkled suit, her disheveled hair, and with a lingering dip that fixated on her breasts, he answered me.
“Biblically.”
Even the strongest of friendships could be tested beyond their limits. “Do not speak about her in that way.”
“Sure thing, whatever you say. You’re a dead man, you know that?”
“Not nearly as dead as you will be.”
Don Conti clapped once. “Enough. It is crowded in here. You two, see that Don Manca makes it to the gates without delay, and Leandro, find out where this one slipped in through. Immediately.”
With that command, he’d reduced the number of threats to my two guards, my father’s solicitor, Dianora, Ringo, and Don Conti. My odds improved greatly.
Except for the imposter posing as my wife.
“We’re getting an annulment, Ellie.”
“It’s Allie.”
Liar.