Authors: S. W. Frank
“Were you hurt?” She asked sitting forward.
“Nah, I’m good,” he held his breath when she gently rubbed his bruised cheek, “seriously, I’m alright.”
“Did you see
the shooter
?”
“No, I
didn’t stick around
.”
“Who do you think it
is
?”
“Babe, I have no idea but I’
m
going to find out.”
“How?”
“I
have my ways.”
“Apparently, the shooter wasn’t trying to harm you, or he would have, right?
”
He
maneuvered her
into a supine position
, “No more questions.” He kissed her quiet then smiled when she read his thoughts.
They undressed simultaneously
without words.
They’d gone through hell
,
their skin
scorched by
the hard fought battle
to survive the flames
–so
,
they spoke with touch
to c
ommunicate
mutual
u
nwavering love
and trust
.
The palms of his hands slid over the contours of her soft skin, adoring the feel of her lips and the taste of her minty tongue. Her fingers were in his hair, kneading his scalp
and she
pushed
eagerly
forward
in wanton desire.
H
is thoughts wandered for an instance. He
circled the universe in his mind, searching the galaxy for a way out of his troubles and found none. He was caught in a place of indecision,
should he
return to the flames of hell to liv
e or perish reaching for heaven
? I
f he descende
d once more in th
e bowls of that
world,
c
ould he survive the inferno?
He had to find the person responsible for shattering the hourglass and pouring sand on his new life. He needed answers, he wanted to know why.
His muscles tensed
the moment his decision was made
. Selange felt it, too.
The silence was broken,
“I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”
“That’s admirable but stupid.”
“I’m stupid in love with my husband, shoot me.”
He smirked, “
I’d rather do this.” His hot tongue ended the talk. Their flesh fused like pieces of a puzzle and he grunt in pleasure. He had his missing part
and
felt
utterly
complete.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Giuseppe
Dichenzo
studied the menu, undecided between the
Seared
Ahi
Tuna
or
Venison Tenderloin as an entrée. He settled on the tuna and smiled at his pretty dinner companion, an inspiring singer from
Britain
, here in Naples to perform at a local venue tomorrow night. One he might attend, but
the decision hinged on how good of a fuck she was, then maybe he might be interested to hear her sing outside the bedroom,
“And you
, Skye
?”
“The salmon with chardonnay sauce sounds delicious
,” s
he replied in perfect
Italian
.
The waitress nervously retrieved the menus under the watchful eyes of Giuseppe’s men then hurried away to the kitchen.
The intimate restaurant held only a few patrons,
every one,
Giuseppe’s
soldiers
.
When the food arrived he waited until
Skye
lift
ed
the fork to
her
ruby lips before
following suit.
The evening was certain to conclude with her in his bed and by morning she’d be a forgotten memory like all the rest.
In
the course of
dinner
he was interrupted by a guard who whispered in his ear, “Alberti’s here. He wants to speak with you.”
Giuseppe wiped his mouth, folded the napkin and set it on the table. The smile erased from his mouth.
“
Mi
scusi
, one minute.”
Skye smiled, “Of course.”
Annoyed at Alberti’s timing, Giuseppe followed the guard. Alberti
sat at the bar
in
an
adjacent room
. As usual,
a cigar dangled from his mouth.
The moment Giuseppe came into view, he stood in greeting, “
Ciao
giovane
amico
.”
“Ciao,”
he hugged the old man then
asked,
“
I thought you retired
after the meeting. You should have rested. There is an invention called the mobile phone.”
T
he old man’s eyes searched the youth’s. Giuseppe was much like his father, unconcerned with international news, only what occurred in Europe. The world stretched far beyond the shores of Italy,
even
the
misguided explorer Christopher Columbus learned this when he stumbled upon the America’s
centuries ago
.
Alberti sucked on his cigar,
took a moment to flick the ashes in the tray then answered Giuseppe with an elder’s patience when talking to a child,
“Remember rule two, no calls, you forget?”
Giuseppe smirked, “I forget
the first
rule.”
“
Which is t
o r
emember the rules
, boy
.
”
“Aye, you
test m
e too much
. This is not school and I am no boy.
” came
Giuseppe’s exasperated
response. He sat on the bar stool, “Tell me what is on your mind so I
can
finish my dinner.”
“
Never sleep too soundly,
smoke
often precedes a fire. D
o you smell it?”
“I smell your cigar.”
Alberti found little humor in
ignorance;
he went straight to the point. “Who
do you trust in
America?”
This got Giuseppe’s attention. “What is wrong?”
“
Never rely solely on smoke detectors.”
“Alberti, speak plainly.”
“You
have obligations
in America
, familial ones that require attention
.”
“
M
io
cugino
?”
“Alfonzo has
troubles
.”
Giuseppe’s face contorted into stone.
“
Is he
well
?”
“
There is smoke in y
our villa
.
Awaken to p
ut
it
out
before
the flames
lick the ceiling
.”
The old man
r
ose from the stool and
exited.
Giuseppe returned to the dining hall, his mind clicking through what the old man said. He reached for his cell and dialed
.
Alfonzo’s voice
bellowed
. “Geo, what’s up?”
Giuseppe watched his dinner companion sip from the wineglass and found her presence distracting. He looked away from her lips, “How
is
the
family
,
cugino
.”
“
Bueno
,
what about
yours?”
He detected nothing unusual in his cousin’s tone, yet
Alfonzo
hid his emotions well.
“
Buono
.
”
“
Good…listen we’ll talk soon
, a
ll right?”
Giuseppe caught the message, “Yes, tell your wife hello.”
“Will do.”
After he disconnected he rose from the table, “My apologies Skye but I must go.”
She looked disappointed.
He’d come to Naples on business and things had gone well. He sought to have a quiet evening with her before heading home to Palermo, unfortunately his plans changed. Alberti, his trusted advisor saw to that.
Too bad
!
He fastened his suit jacket, turned to one of his men and said, “Escort her safely back to her hotel.”
The
imposing
Italian nodded and folded his arms as his boss walked away. Whatever, Alberti came to say
could not
be
good;
why else would Don Giuseppe forego a night with such a beautiful woman?
The streets were clearing of tourists
. Their
visit
to t
he nearby Piazza
dei
Martiri
left them hungry
and
the
sidewalk cafés
and
restaurants
in proximity were where they dined.
The hour grew late
. I
n Naples,
at the darkened hours
the seediest elements awakened.
Alberti settled in
the passenger seat of the bulletproof
car, watch
ing
in the side mirror as his nephew emerged from the restaurant surrounded by his henchmen
and
‘
tsked
’
. Giuseppe was not ready.