Summer Kisses (190 page)

Instead he changed subjects. “And you. You’re really going to stand by and let him kill your father?”

“I’m sick of this life. I want out.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

“No. I never have before,” she said, and Paolo’s beautiful brown eyes flashed in her memory. “But I will this time.”

She turned and walked away.

This time Dave didn’t follow.

~~~

“You got anything of hers for the dogs to sniff?” Eddie DiMarco asked. He unloaded three bay bloodhounds from the kennels in the back of his Ford truck.

“No, but we got these sheets and comforter that was on her bed.” Giovanni handed the folded bundle to Eddie, before he took out a cigarette.

“Don’t light that,” Eddie told him. “Not until the dogs get her scent. She lay on these?” He indicated the bundle of bed linens.

The unlit cigarette dangled from Giovanni’s mouth. “She used the sheets as a rope, probably laid on the comforter after we caught her the first time. She wasn’t feeling too well.”

“This is the second time she escaped you, then? Must be pretty slick.”

“Vicious, too.” Angie stumbled out of the house with a makeshift ice bag on his head, his shirt and suit jacket blood stained.

“Jesus, look at you.” Joey stepped away from Eddie’s truck to remove the ice bag and look at Angie’s head. “That’s some big fucking gash. You better let Carmine take you to the doc, get it sewed up.”

“Doc’s getting a hell of a business thanks to her. She sent Mikey there earlier.” An uncomfortable silence descended at Angie’s observation.

Eddie sensed the unease, but not the reason. “Better catch her before she harms anyone else,” he said lightly, trying to ease the suddenly somber mood. After all, one woman. How bad could she be? So she got lucky once. Or twice.

“Giovanni, you check out those places along the road?” Joey asked.

“Nothing open. That convenience store about six miles down the road—won’t open until five. Gives us a couple of hours. If she’s even headed that way.”

“Let’s see if she is.” Eddie held the bundle in front of the dogs to smell and gave them the command to find.

Immediately, their noses dropped to the ground and they took off baying. At first they headed for the woods but began circling by a big tree. Changing directions, they headed for the road. “Looks like she took the road after all.”

“Good.” Giovanni finally lit his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. “Let’s go then. Before the morning commuters start to work. Don’t want any witnesses.”

~~~

While Marisa searched in the bathroom for headache medicine, Luigi looked at the sparkling diamond engagement ring he’d bought. Beautiful ring for a beautiful lady who, if he were lucky, would soon be his beautiful wife. He placed the ring case into the top drawer of his chest of drawers, in the compartment next to his keys and cell phones. Luigi always kept his things neatly compartmentalized and organized.

“C’mon,
Bella
, what is taking you so long?” He tried to pull back his impatience, yet already he felt the pill he’d taken earlier surging the blood to where it was supposed to go. He was anxious to take advantage while it lasted. And then . . . he’d propose.

He and Marisa might have gotten together in the first place because Carlo encouraged her to be
nice
to Luigi for his promotion from
capo
to
consigliere.
Of course he had heard the ugly rumors of how she’d been used in the past as a reward until she became proficient with the use of a stiletto, and later a gun. But she’d been exclusively with him from that time, no more favors. He credited himself for keeping her with him.

She had to say yes. Hadn’t she been seeing him all these months, and didn’t she tell him she loved him? Yet he constantly fought insecurities. He was fifteen years older than her, approaching middle age. And although he was careful with his appearance and exercised, his hair was thinning and his middle spreading no matter how much he worked out. But his age never seemed to make a difference to her.

And with the help of the little blue pill, he was able to keep her satisfied.

At last she came out of the bathroom. He frowned. She had not changed into one of those sexy nightgowns she usually wore for him. “Excuse me, love,” she murmured. “I must lie down. My head...” She waved her hands helplessly then collapsed on the bed. Usually so elegant and refined, her dishevelment surprised and then confused him.

He felt the minutes ticking, realizing that soon the effects of the pill would be worthless. He reached for calm. He wanted the night to be memorable although it was starting out less than perfect.

“Let me rub your shoulders,” he offered, proud of himself for thinking of it. She would like that, no? “Roll onto your stomach.”

He straddled her back. She tensed when he rested on the curve her ass, she couldn’t miss that he was aroused, but when he started massaging her back, she relaxed and murmured in the pillow, “Ah,
si
, that feels wonderful.” But his fingers were tired within two minutes and his erection rubbing against her was growing painful. He bent over to nuzzle her neck and whispered. “I have a surprise for you . . . later.”

She turned her head to give him better access to her neck. “Hmm, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He turned her over, allowing him to reach her lips, her body. He kissed her. She stiffened, muttered a protest.

He brushed off her complaint, knowing she’d give in, she always did.

Then his phone rang. He froze. He would have ignored that as well, too, but it wasn’t his regular cell phone ring. It was the throw away phone, the ones they used in an emergency. Or in other words, a fuck up. He couldn’t ignore this call.

“Get the phone,
mi amore
. I’ll go . . . change,” Marisa murmured.

He would have been satisfied she was giving in if it wasn’t for the damn ringing phone. He scrambled off her and pulled open the drawer to snatch the irritating damn phone.

The caller ID read
unknown caller
. No surprise there. He wasn’t sure who was on the other end, but it would not be good news. Luigi punched the button to connect. “What?”

“Got bad news,” Angie said without preamble. “She got away.”

“What the fuck!” He’d expected bad, but not that bad. The chemically-induced heat drained like water out of a tub after the plug had been pulled, leaving him shriveled and useless. “Tell me you got her back?” he shouted before he remembered Marisa was still here. He glanced around. Still in the bathroom with the door shut, but he needed to keep a lid on his anger. Growing up in the business, she knew to keep her mouth shut. But there was no need to involve her in this mess.

“No, we haven’t found her yet.”

“And you’re the lucky bastard who gets to call me.” Which meant Luigi was the one who got to tell Carlo. His plans for the evening had just been blown to bits.

“We got the dogs out,” Angie continued, his words sounding strangely slurred. “They caught a scent.”

“That’s some good news, at least,” Luigi said. “You okay? You sound funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay. She busted me upside the head with a vase, but I’m here at the doc’s now to get sewed up.”

“Sewed up? Damn.”

“I gotta go. Doc’s ready for me. But, well . . . we were thinking . . . maybe you could hold off reporting this until we–”

“Are you kidding me? He’d whack us both if we kept this from him. I’ll take care of it, keep me updated.”

Marisa came out of the bathroom then, dressed in a filmy red negligee with a sheer red robe. Unfortunately, no matter how hot she looked, his penis didn’t care. Damn it.

“Problem?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Gotta go out for a while.” Did he see relief in her eyes? Oh, yeah, she had a headache. “You get some rest.”

He gave her a distracted kiss before he changed his clothes. He slid the phone in his jacket pocket hoping Angie would call him soon with some good news. As he grabbed his keys out of the drawer, the black box with the ring mocked him. Not tonight.

With a frown for his ruined plans, he slid the drawer closed. He didn’t worry that she would find the engagement ring. Marisa wasn’t a snoop. That was another reason he wanted to marry her. He could trust her.

Before he got to his car, he called Carlo. Luigi’s evening hadn’t been the only one interrupted, he heard a woman in the background while he was talking to Carlo. No question it was one of Carlo’s latest
comares
. Carlo’s wife had been an invalid since before they came to the States. Carlo never let that slow down his love life. Luigi envied the boss for his stamina.

Once at the club, the night went from bad to worse. Carlo gave orders that Luigi couldn’t help but question.

“The kid? You really wanna do that?”

“Hell, yeah.” Carlo wagged his finger in front of Luigi’s face. “Don’t you go fucking questioning me. Sandro betrayed me and he’s fucking gonna pay. Get that bitch back and the kid will keep her in place. She gets away, the kid will bring them both running.”

Like other made guys, Luigi had tortured people. Killed them. But nothing gave him the willies worse than messing with kids. Babies were sacred. He wanted a bundle of them with Marisa.

While Carlo had little regard for any human life. Old, young, in between. His reputation was built on his ruthlessness. Back in Italy, before Luigi was part of the family, Carlo supposedly wiped out a whole family, dad, mom, kids; one child as young as two. Without blinking. Just because he suspected the dad of being a rat. No one was ever brought to justice for the crime, but rumors among the
Mafioso
pointed to Carlo. If anyone knew for sure, no one talked.

In an effort to stave off the inevitable, Luigi presented the best argument he could. “Agent Armstrong’s gonna have him squirreled away somewhere. And now we’ve lost our inside man–”

“Find the kid.” Carlo’s words were final.

No argument against that.

Snowflakes floated onto Nia’s face, melted, leaving wet spots for the cold night air to freeze. She pushed to her feet out of the damp ditch. With each breath, the biting cold stabbed her lungs, pierced her throat, and brought reality into sharp, bitter focus.

A car and a truck had passed. She took off running again, though the wind cut through her flimsy slacks and her feet felt like blocks of ice. She’d been jogging steadily for the past hour, pacing herself, until the occasional car sent her flying to her belly, heart pounding, waiting in the ditch.

The cars that drove by might hold possible rescue. But just as likely one of them held the mobsters. She had no doubt they were looking for her, and she wasn’t going to risk making contact with anyone. So far, other than the rare passing car, she hadn’t seen a sign of life—no houses, no businesses, just acres and acres of farmland, but she was bound to come upon something soon.

Far off, but fast approaching headlights sent her heart rate spiking and her scurrying to the ditch again. Lying flat on her stomach, she pretended it was Sandro driving the car, scouring the state of New York for her. No matter what he’d tried to make her believe earlier, she knew without a doubt now he was in serious trouble.

Regardless of his own troubles, she knew once he learned of her kidnapping, he would be out searching for her, no matter the risk to himself. She knew him well. Fear for him, fear for herself and her son made her muscles tighten and she wanted to curl into a ball and pretend none of this was happening.

To dispel the freezing fear, she pictured how happy he would be when he found her. How he would cover her face, her lips, with warm grateful kisses. The strong image was so real, she almost jumped up from her hiding place to wave down the passing car.

Last minute sanity prevailed. She knew she couldn’t take the chance no matter how tempting. The cold and fatigue must be making her lose it.

She forced herself to stay still, returning to her daydream of Sandro’s soft, soothing kisses, and that he would soon be awakening her from this horrible nightmare. He would hold her, whisper sweet Italian words in her ear, and when she was calmed, he would lay her back and make slow, passionate love to her.

The car finally passed. Nia realized her cheeks were wet with more than snowflakes. She wiped the tears away, dragged herself to her feet, and made herself start running once more.

~~~

Sandro had made a wrong turn, and ten miles down the road, he still couldn’t find the smaller street that should have been there. He pulled into the parking lot of a closed convenience store and put the stolen Honda Accord in park. The bright security lights surrounding the store made it easy for him to look at the map he’d bought before he left the city. Now, he wished he’d taken time to buy a GPS.

He turned too early. The road was still at least five miles ahead. If he’d been concentrating more on driving and worrying less about his missing wife, he wouldn’t have gotten lost.

To some, to chastise himself for worrying about his wife, who was in the hands of the mob, might seem heartless. It partially came from his belief to live in the moment. Worry was a waste of energy. But mostly, he knew his wife, and had confidence in her abilities. She would find a way to stay alive until he found her. He had no doubt if a chance to escape presented itself, she would take it. By now, she would have realized his leaving was a set up, and she would know he would come after her.

Making her think he left her for another woman had been a last minute plan, the best he could do under the circumstances. If it had gotten her out of town and back home to Dallas, that would have sufficed. He hadn’t counted on Carlo moving so fast.

It made no sense to lament fate though. Once again he would do what he had to do. He always had. It was a code he lived by.

Sandro had been manipulated like a puppet for too many years. More than once, doing what he thought he had to do meant violating his honor. Missing the all-important free kick in the World Cup game that would have brought honor to his whole country, being forced into laundering money in the restaurant business he’d built for his family.