La Famiglia (Battaglia Mafia Series) Page 2

  He cut his eyes over to Armando. He understood the full cost of this sacred piece. And then he remembered the little boy who needed it so desperately. He lowered the medallion on the cloth and nodded. “Mille grazie—thank you very much. It’s what I wanted. I’ll take it, Del Stavio,” Giovanni said.

  “Prego! Before I let you accept this, you must tell me if you understand the meaning,” the old jeweler chuckled.

  Giovanni nodded. “Of course. St. William was orphaned as a child and raised by strangers who became family, who taught him how to survive.”

  “And?” Del Stavio asked. His eyes sparkled under an arched bushy brow.

  Armando cut in. He smirked at Giovanni sharing the rest of the tale. “At fifteen St. William decided to dedicate his life to God. He built a monastery on Mount Vergine and performed many miracles. He had only a wolf and staff as his protection. With the hand God dealt him he became stronger, became a man of worth, and a helper to those who needed him. Like little orphan boys with a murdered mommy and daddy.”

  Del Stavio’s smile dimmed, but brightened as he tried to make light of what Armando insinuated. “Basta. It is yours, Gio. Take it.”

  “Grazie, Del Stavio,” Giovanni said. “Tanto grazie.”

  Del Stavio waved off the payment offered to him by Armando. “I know of the boy you will give this to. Go with God’s blessing. I hope it brings la piccoletto peace.”

  It was of no surprise to Giovanni that many had heard of Dominic. Tomosino was questioned by the local officials the day after he took the abused boy into his home. All Giovanni and Lorenzo were able to discern was that Dominic’s father was dead. Murdered. They heard their mothers whisper that Dominic’s madre was a poor village girl who spent a tortured existence at the hands of her husband, until her death shortly after giving birth to the little boy. Dominic had been an instrument of abuse from the day he entered the world. But the kid was strong, alive, and now his brother. He would take care of him.

  “Grazie!” Giovanni accepted the wrapped gift. “Grazie!”

  Once outside he dropped the package in the basket on his bike and climbed on.

  “Oooh Gioooo?” Armando sang.

  “Not now. I must get home.” Giovanni quipped.

  “Now,” Armando said, he stepped before Giovanni and blocked his escape. “The favor I want. I intend to collect next week. Meet me tomorrow after prayer behind the rectory to discuss the details.”

  “What is this favor?” Giovanni frowned.

  “Not a what—a who?” Armando grinned. The request pinched the last nerve Giovanni had on reserve for tolerance. He hated the smug superiority the cowardly young Mancini wielded from being Don Mancini’s son. But a deal was a deal.

  “I hear Tomosino killed that kid’s father you have hidden in Villa Mare Blu. I hear he made the boy watch too. Papa told me that our men had to find what was left of Micheli across the fields of his farm. Do you want to know why he did it? No? Because I assure you it wasn’t for any noble reason you may think.”

  In Giovanni’s heart he wanted to believe his father had rescued Dominic. That Patri was a hero. But he believed differently after hearing the whispers of the nuns today in school. Nothing Don Tomosino did was without self-reward.

  “Out of my way,” Giovanni said.

  Armando snickered. “Meet me tomorrow,” he yelled after him. “We have a deal!”

  Giovanni pedaled away, fast. He arrived home much later than he hoped. This time the bike ride took him over an hour and his legs felt as if they were made of jelly when he got off. As soon as he approached the front of the villa he could see Dominic grinning from the top window with his hands and face pressed against the pane. Giovanni waved. Dominic waved back.

  His mother greeted him at the door.

  “Where have you been? Lorenzo arrived two hours ago,” she asked with a stern look of disapproval. Though his father’s men were powerful, they were in Mancini territory and the Mafioso only tolerated the clans of the Camorra. Danger was a way of life. And Giovanni could easily become a target for ransom if his father fell out of Don Mancini’s graces.

  “Sorry, Madre. I had to stop and get something. Is Patri home?”

  “No. Inside! Now.”

  Giovanni started past his mother but she grabbed his arm and delayed him. “Dominic has been in that window since you left for school. He’s been waiting for your return, Gio. Every time I drag him from the room to eat, bathe, do his lesson, he finds a reason to return.”

  This Giovanni already knew. Dominic followed him around the house. He mimicked him at every turn. It irked Lorenzo, but Giovanni accepted it as something the kid needed to do. He didn’t mind.

  His mother continued. “I want him baptized. That nasty man who was his father never bothered. You talk to Dominic and explain it to him, what the sacrament means.”

  “I’ll go see him,” he said. He turned on is heel and stumbled. Dominic had appeared right behind him. He had to hold on to the boy’s small shoulders to keep from tripping. Dominic grinned up at him. Giovanni chuckled. “Come with me, Domi. I have something for you. That’s why I was late today.”

  “Get him cleaned up, he’s been out in the gardens with Zia. Dinner is in another hour,” his mother said. She shook her head causing her long scarlet red hair, held from her face by a blue silk ribbon, to sway about her shoulders as she walked away. He glanced back to see her hand to her stomach and the swell that was very prevalent in the dress she wore. He hadn’t believed the rumor when they said she was pregnant again. But the truth was there for all to see. She grew larger every day. Patri was very excited over the promise of a new child. He doted on Eve. And Giovanni had even seen his mother smile a few times when his father was around. It was progress. They were a family again. Their time in Ireland was done.

  Dominic was pulled along by Giovanni’s hand. Giovanni took him to the sitting room and closed the door. “Here, sit here.” He led him to the sofa seat and joined him. He reached in his pocket and removed the tiny box that Del Stavio had given him. He opened it for Dominic.

  “This here is the patron saint of orphans. St. William. See here, this is the wolf at his side. The one who protects and helps those that can’t help themselves. This will make you stronger. You wear it, and St. William’s wolf will be there to protect you always. No more nightmares. Okay? Do you understand?”

  Dominic nodded. “Sí. No more nightmares, Gio.”

  Giovanni put the necklace around Dominic’s tiny neck. “This means we are brothers, Dominic. Always.”

  “Always,” Dominic said with a nod. He knew the kid took the commitment seriously. He kind of liked having a little brother of his own to mentor. Dominic stared at the medallion then turned it over. “What does this mean?” he asked of Del Stavio’s insignia.

  “The jeweler who made this has been blessed by the Pope. He is the private jeweler to the Five Dons of Sicily. Any man, woman or child who wears this insignia is covered by God’s grace.” Giovanni recanted with a smile.

  “God has blessed me?” Dominic asked, and for the first time Giovanni sensed that the boy believed him.

  “Sí. No more waiting on me, Dominic, no more worry about tomorrow. You have a family now.”

  “Mio famiglia,” Dominic threw his arms around Giovanni’s neck. He hugged the boy and then shoved him off. If Lorenzo caught them embracing he’d tease them both the rest of the night. “Ma-ma is having a baby. She let me touch and I felt it move in her belly.” Dominic smiled. “It will be a girl. That’s what I think,” Dominic grinned wider. “Pretty with red hair like Ma-ma.”

  Giovanni’s brows lowered. “Well don’t say that to Patri. He wants a boy I’m sure.” What took Giovanni most by surprise was that Dominic called Eve ‘Ma-ma’. That had to be progress. Giovanni smiled a little. “No matter if it is a boy or a girl you will be a big brother soon, like me. You will have to protect the baby. Can you make this vow to me?”

  “Sí. I will.” Dominic nodded. “I will p
rotect the baby always. It will be my baby too.”

  “I believe you, Domi,” Giovanni smiled. Despite his ego he embraced the boy again. Silently he vowed to protect Dominic always. “Let’s go find Madre and see what she has on the stove.”

  June 16, 1992 – Sorrento, Italy

  A shot fired. Like a cannon blast the echo thundered each time Mira pulled the trigger. Birds took flight from the branches of tall trees. Insects were startled into silence and adrenaline pumped through every chamber of her heart. Mira held tight to the weapon, breathing through her nose. She concentrated on the task before her.

  “Bravissima! Again.” Giovanni clapped.

  Mira raised the gun steady with one hand firm on the trigger and the other on the grip used for support. What Giovanni didn’t acknowledge was the recoil interfered with her aim. She found greater success when she aimed a fraction lower than her intended target. Before her were six cans and two jars lined up. She fired three more times shattering one jar and missing two cans. Giovanni stepped over. He moved his cigar in his jaw, and she frowned when he exhaled smoke that reached around to tickle her nose. She was pregnant for Christ’s sake, and still he wouldn’t let go of his damned cigars.

  First his hands went down her hips and next she felt him press into her backside. Not for arousal, though contact this way made her heart flutter faster than the wings of a trapped butterfly. He touched her, oblivious of her excitement, intent on calming her. And then his arms lifted, extended and covered hers. He kept his hands on her wrist to level the direction of the shot.

  “I should do it the way I feel comfortable,” she protested. How was she supposed to concentrate this way? Giovanni’s presence almost always had an affect on her. And lately it was hormonal. If she wasn’t hungry, or horny, she was a crying bundle of nerves. She needed space. “Giovanni, I’m serious. I want to do this on my own.”

  He lifted his hands from her wrist and stepped to her side—granting her wish. She peeked over at him and then quickly returned her gaze to the target.

  “Renaldo, remove the cans and put a target for Bella on that tree,” he ordered.

  Mira rolled her eyes. She lowered the gun and waited for the target change. So he’s going to make it harder because I don’t need him babying me? Once Renaldo completed the task Mira leveled the gun with the most plausible aim. Giovanni too stared straight ahead. Removing the cigar from his mouth he put the burning end out with his thumb. “Concentrare, Bella, you empty the clip until there is nothing standing. You kill every time you pull the trigger.”

  She nodded. “Sì. I know. I know.”

  “On my mark,” he said. Again he returned and stepped behind her. He eased his hands around to hold the swell of her round belly and allow her to rest her weight against him.

  “Gio—” she began to protest.

  “Shh…” he kissed her cheek. “You need me, Bella, for now. And when you don’t I won’t hold on so tight anymore. I promise.”

  Mira smiled. There would be no escape from his instruction until he determined it necessary. At six months pregnant she found she was swollen everywhere. People who saw her always guessed her to be eight months at the very least. The twins weighed like bowling balls in her uterus. But she managed. And due to his love and encouragement she made it through many difficult weeks. For Mira, the joy of being the wife of Giovanni Battaglia was rooted in his unwavering devotion. She would need his protection always, no matter what weapon she wielded in her hands.

  “Ti piace questo?” he asked in a voice that stilled her heart and warmed her between her thighs. If he touched her below she wouldn’t mind. Mira shook off the naughty pangs of desire and concentrated on her goal.

  “Ti piace questo?” he asked again.

  “It feels nice,” she admitted. Of course it felt nice, he was her husband and it always felt nice. She blinked twice and again her desires stirred when they shouldn’t. No wonder there was never peace in their bed. She was on him every night or vice versa.

  “Steady. That’s my girl. Hold her gently. She’s your baby, Bella.” He kissed her cheek. “You can do this.”

  Whom he spoke of was the Berretta 9000 he gifted to her a few days ago. Very light in her hand, she was told by Giovanni it was designed for ‘civilian sensibility’. What the hell did that mean? She asked. He laughed and said it was a woman’s gun. It held a 12 round magazine so she had very few shots left. Maybe three. And from the moment the stainless steel semi-automatic was given to her she feared it, loathed having to own and handle it. But today not so much. Today she felt a sense of control.

  Giovanni brushed his lips against her inner ear. “So sexy, when you touch her this way,” he said beneath the soft groan in his throat. With his warm breath against her temple next, he made her feel far too vulnerable to level an accurate shot.

  Mira rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re turned on because I’m holding a gun?” she chuckled.

  “I’m turned on by you period.” He sounded amused.

  Mira pulled the trigger. Giovanni didn’t flinch as the recoil from every shot fired pushed her harder into his protective embrace. She released the clip, picked up the next one from the folding table before her, and shoved it up into the gun with swift speed. She then opened fire. This time she hit the target dead center and she didn’t stop until she shredded the tree bark. She smiled at her accomplishment. A quick glance behind her confirmed he too was impressed.

  Giovanni chuckled, white teeth showing between his sensual lips. “Bella is a better shot than Leo when properly motivated,” he proclaimed. “Maybe she should watch over him.”

  The other men chuckled over the joke, but Leo’s smile seemed forced to cover a flushed look of embarrassment. Mira shoved her elbow into her husband playfully and he hugged her in return. Giovanni bit her cheek and the act was more pleasure than pain.

  “Very well done, cara. You make me proud. Now if only you will allow my swim lessons.”

  “Maybe. Some day. One step at a time, Giovanni. Okay?”

  “Understood.” Giovanni let her go.

  “Boss? Mi scusi.”

  Mira glanced back. Giovanni obstructed her view but she could see who had joined them. Santo stood with several other men off to the side. She lowered the gun and frowned as Giovanni drew away.

  Why had Lorenzo left?

  Why did Giovanni insist on doing business with this man?

  Neither of these questions she dared ask, but they plagued her constantly. Santo removed his dark sunglasses and their eyes met. Mira felt her hand go tighter on the gun involuntarily. His dark stare lingered a moment longer then shifted away. She tried to shake the shiver that went through her. Maybe she should tell her husband how uncomfortable the man made her? But what would be her reason? And more importantly, what would be Giovanni’s reaction? For now she ignored the feeling and remained cautious.

  The more pressing matter was the burn to her arms and how her wrist ached. Today’s lesson was over. She’d been at it all week. She knew how to fire and reload like the rest of them. She may not be a perfect shot but she’d take down someone threatening her or her children. Of that much she was assured. Still it troubled her that gun lessons were a necessity in her marriage, her life.

  Giovanni was engrossed in the news Santo brought. Typically a visit like this would mean he’d have to travel out to Napoli or even worse to Genoa. She prayed not. Dominic and Catalina were supposed to arrive in two days. They’d all make the trip together in a week to the infamous Mondello Beach, Sicily she had heard so much about.

  “Bella! Change of plans. We leave for Mondello in the morning. Make yourself and Eve ready for travel,” Giovanni announced.

  Mira whirled around, stunned. “We can’t. What about—”

  He stalked off with Santo at his side. Neither man bothered to glance back. Mira sighed. She wiped her hand across her brow to clear it of sweat. It felt like her twins were baking in her oven. She was hot all over. The noonday sun burned hotte
r, and appeared closer to earth than normal.

  “Donna? May I?” Leo asked. He reached for her weapon. Giovanni told her to name her gun but she thought it silly. She handed it over to Leo and he smiled. She had grown fond of his shadow and didn’t understand why Gio and the men constantly teased him.

  “I’ll return it to you after it is cleaned and—” Leo began.

  “No need. Just put it away, I don’t want Eve to see the thing,” Mira said.

  Leo frowned.

  Mira clarified. “I have a small army to follow me around every day. I have you. Exactly when do you think I will need the gun?”

  “The boss wants you to keep it,” Leo answered. “Forgive me, Donna, but I have my orders.”

  “For heaven’s sake!” Mira tossed her hands up. Leo continued to stare at her. “Put it in my room, and lock it in the cabinet.”

  Leo looked relieved. Mira shook her head and started back toward the trail to her home. She moved a bit slower but the walk always made her feel stronger. She could see her husband ahead. He stopped, said a few words and then dismissed Santo and his crew. His violet blue eyes turned on her. When angry those eyes were clear as crystals. Eve had the same trait. Would her sons?

  Mira smiled, and tried to walk a little faster. Of course it provoked the response she wanted. Giovanni hurried to her side to offer aid. He immediately put his arm around her waist and she leaned into him for support.

  “Why today? Can’t we wait for Catalina to return from Milano?”

  “No, Bella. It’s tomorrow.” He kissed the top of her forehead “Soon you won’t be able to make the trip.”

  They continued on the path. Mira felt a bit winded but she didn’t say why. The doctor said she should exercise. During her frequent visits she often felt the doctor held back on her condition. He and Giovanni were always there to reassure her it wasn’t true.