Ti Amo (Battaglia Mafia Series) Read online

  “This is where you beg for your life.” Lorenzo smirked.

  “Vaffanculo!” Fish spat. “Fuck you!”

  Lorenzo put his hand to his chest and feigned shock. “I thought it wasn’t personal?”

  Carmine smacked Fish in the back of his head with his gun and the blow drove the man to his knees. Fish was dangerously close to his knives. Lorenzo had once heard tale that he could throw them as well as wield them. He stuck his gun in the front of his pants and stepped forward, kicking the closest knife away. Lorenzo grabbed Fish by the damp thick hair at the top of his head and forced his face to turn upward. “I want to know where your boss sleeps, shits, fucks, all of it. I want Angelo Calderone.”

  “And what? You will spare me?” There was a hint of maniacal humor in his voice and eyes.

  Lorenzo held the man’s glare but wavered on the question. If he were in Fish’s shoes he’d die like a man not a porco Dio, pig God. And Fish knew the night would end with his life. What could he bargain with?

  “You’re still trying to gain your cousin’s favor aren’t you?” Fish spoke in a calm almost empathetic voice. The mockery fileted Lorenzo and he slammed his fist into Fish’s face for the insult. The man buckled, but he held him up by his hair. Fish spat blood and grinned; crimson spittle coated his lips and teeth. “I know your secret,” he whispered. “I know the real reason why you killed Giuseppe. He told me about Don Tomosino’s death.”

  “Silenzio!” Lorenzo drew back to hit him again but Fish laughed. Cold bitter laughter void of repentance echoed through the alley. Enu the Nigerian said Giuseppe had taped his enemies. That there was a recording of the one conversation he prayed no one ever heard. If it had existed Angelo Calderone would have certainly used it by now. Lies!

  “Tell your boy who really murdered Don Tomosino.” Fish challenged.

  Lorenzo could sense the questioning look from Carmine. The young man’s gaze volleyed between both men unsure of what he heard. He drew his gun out of the front of his pants and shoved it under Fish’s chin.

  “I can take you to Giovanni as a corpse, it doesn’t matter.” He released the safety on the gun. Carlo arrived. Why he fell behind him Lorenzo wasn’t sure, but he was grateful his best friend hadn’t heard the nasty challenge from Fish about Tomosino.

  “Wait! Wait! I have something you want. Informazioni! It will make you a hero. It’s what you need, right? To be the hero for Don Giovanni?”

  “Fuck you.” Lorenzo seethed.

  “She lives!”

  Lorenzo froze. He lowered the gun and stared at the worm. “Who lives?”

  Fish spat more blood before speaking. “His American. The black American woman. She lives.”

  It was Carlo’s turn to laugh. “Kill the motherfucker. We have no time for this shit,” Carlo said in disgust.

  Lorenzo threw up his hand to stay the execution. “Mira’s dead. We all saw her die. You set the bomb.”

  “No. I set a bomb, but the bitch didn’t die. I saw the people who did. The day they came to her home I was there, leaving. I passed the woman, the one that the news people showed to be the designer. It wasn’t the fashion designer. I saw her face. Heard her with the other man. They were talking about leaving quickly and getting things for their boss. It wasn’t Mira Ellison.”

  “Bullshit!” Carmine laughed. “Can you believe this boss? He drags up a ghost to keep from becoming one!”

  “Kill him!” Carlo said, eager to conclude their business. “Bonaduce will know we’re here. That’s what delayed me. I had a run-in with two of his men. Their bodies rot in this alley. We need to go. Now.”

  “I can prove it!” Fish shouted over Carlo’s voice.

  “He’s lying Lo! She’s dead!” Carlo insisted.

  “Let me do him boss. Let me do it.” Carmine grinned.

  Lorenzo shook his head no. “Everybody shut the fuck up!” he shouted. “How can you prove it?”

  Fish released a deep sigh of relief. “Angelo. He was pissed that I didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t give up. He sent me after her. She’s with an Asian man. Don’t know his name but I took photos. Angelo was going to use them against Giovanni. Then you killed Don Calderone’s daughters. He went mad with rage. We lost track of her. The Americans said she was dead. Angelo thought it best to let Giovanni believe it. Especially after we all saw how he lost control with grief. Don’t you understand? The photos are my proof, I can get to them. They’re dated. I can give them to you in exchange for my life. I’m not stupid. If I tell you where Angelo is, I’m a dead man, even if you don’t kill me, he will. This is what I know you can use.”

  Lorenzo’s gaze switched to Carlo and his brow creased in confusion. “Why the fuck would she pretend to be dead?”

  Carlo shrugged. Carmine interjected. “Maybe the bomb scared her boss. None of you saw how bad she was when Flavio sent her away. She could have become fearful of Gio and ran.”

  “We can’t tell Gio until we find out more.” Lorenzo said.

  Carlo nodded. “Agreed.”

  Both men lifted their guns and aimed.

  “Wait? You can’t do this. You need me! I have the photos. You can’t kill me!”

  “For Fabiana.” Lorenzo said. He pulled the trigger repeatedly until the gun clicked noisily, now empty of bullets. Lorenzo and Carmine did the same. What was left of Fish was barely recognizable from the pigeon shit and mucky rainwater splattered along the cobblestone alley.

  ****

  “Hello?” Giovanni groaned, barely awake.

  “He’s dead.” A voice said through the line.

  Giovanni opened his eyes. The words were of no comfort. “Angelo?”

  “We are still looking for him, Gio, but we got Fish and—.”

  Giovanni slammed the phone down on the rest of Lorenzo’s excuses. He heaved a deep sigh, and then rolled over, back to his misery.

  Chapter One

  One week later

  Muri, Switzerland

  “Eve Fabiana Battaglia you come to Mommy now.” Mira placed her hands on her hips. The door to the pantry was flung wide behind her. At her feet were two spilled containers of grains and rice. She couldn’t believe a toddler could cause so much destruction. However, Eve was a smart girl. Stubborn and crafty, she slipped in and out of rooms until her mother heard a crash and saw her little feet pedal her away. This morning was no different. Never in her life had Mira seen a baby so fixated on a single treat. Eve usually spat out sweets, but oatmeal or chocolate cookies from the local bakery were her absolute favorite. She wasn’t quite two yet. Her birthday would arrive this January.

  The other day they were in the kitchen, Mira intended to fix lunch, and Eve wanted cookies off the middle shelf in the pantry. She’d grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her to the food closet, pointing. Mira refused and kept at the business of prepping a sandwich of jam spread and peanut butter. Within minutes she looked over and found her daughter climbing the shelves like a little monkey trying to reach the bag of cookies. Scared her to death.

  “Eve?” Mira said in a slightly raised voice.

  Kei entered the kitchen from the opposite side. He sat down at the table with a paper in his hand for reading. Mira hoped he didn’t intervene. It irked her how he constantly came behind her and spoiled Eve or gave her whatever had prompted her temper tantrum. Since his arrival she’d been unable to convince Eve to sit on the potty. Her daughter just went to her diaper bag, collected one and walked it over to Kei for changing.

  “What has my Little Rabbit done this morning?” Kei asked.

  “Look!” Mira pointed to her feet and the spill. Kei chuckled.

  Little Rabbit peeked around the corner of the kitchen cabinet at her while sucking hard and fast on a cherry red pacifier. The look of defiance on her cherubic face forced Mira to smile. Her mocha skin, a rich toffee-brown color, and her clear blue eyes under long dark lashes always seemed to twinkle with more wisdom than a babe of one and a half years should possess. If and when they ever visited the s
treets of Muri people would stop to compliment her and then frown up at her Black American mother and Chinese American father when she batted those round baby blues at them. They definitely made some pair. Eve wore yellow pajamas with the feet attached. Her hair was a riot of crinkly sandy brownish-blonde curls. She placed her tiny hand on the edge of the cornered wall and moved halfway into view.

  “Andiamo,” Mira wiggled her finger.

  Kei frowned to hear Mira speak Italian, and she purposefully ignored his reaction. She’d made a friend not far from the market. The lady visited twice a week to teach her lessons. This had gone on for nearly six months and she was becoming quite good. The first year of isolation Mira had struggled with German, which most of the population spoke. Eventually she lost interest in the language. With Eve she whispered in Italian and learned a nursery rhyme that her daughter nursed her breast to. Kei spoke Mandarin to her, and it seemed Eve had picked up on understanding him as well. The poor kid had so many different languages said to her at once it was a wonder she understood any of it.

  “Come to Poppy, Little Rabbit,” Kei said. “Poppy will protect you.”

  “Stay out of it, Kei. She has to learn better.”

  Eve ducked from the corner and bolted to Kei full speed. Mira threw her hands up in defeat and turned to the mess covering the floor of the pantry. Rice and grains were spilled after a failed attempt to reach the cookie bag on the second shelf. Kei laughed, tickling a grinning Eve who had spit out her pacifier and melted into dimples and smiles. When she glanced back she saw how her daughter clung to him. They definitely made some pair.

  It had been a wonderful Thanksgiving. Though it wasn’t celebrated in Switzerland, Mira went all out to make sure she had the traditional flavoring of home. She baked a turkey with all the trimmings. Eve had so much energy she danced for Kei until she collapsed in his arms and slept the rest of the day clinging to him.

  Kei visited during the holidays mostly. His business in the states made those trips less frequent. In the past year and a half, he’d been to see her after the baby was born a total of six times.

  Her daughter grunted and pushed at Kei’s chest to be let down. Mira lowered the dustpan to sweep up the mess and her little angel came to her side. Eve put her hands on both knees and squatted. She popped her pacifier back into her mouth from the string it dangled on and sucked hard and fast. Eve appeared to be fascinated with the cleanup.

  “You see what Mommy is doing? No. No. You don’t go in the pantry without Mommy. Okay?”

  Eve blinked. She stuck her chubby fingers in the trash pile then swiped her hand to spread the mess out of the neat stack Mira had brushed the grains into.

  “Smart girl,” Kei clapped. Eve looked up at her surrogate father and grinned again.

  Mira laughed. “Go missy, never mind it.”

  When the midwife laid her baby in her arms, it took several long moments before Eve opened her eyes to gaze up at her mother. She’d never seen a child of mixed heritage with blue eyes. The midwife told her that many babies were born with blue eyes and after birth they changed to a natural brown or hazel color. Eve’s eyes never did. In fact they had the same unique trait of deepening and lightening in shade like her father.

  “Why don’t I take my girls to breakfast tomorrow? Maybe we can drive out to the hamlets where we can make a snowman?”

  Mira looked back over her shoulder at him. “What on earth do you know about making snowmen?” she grinned.

  Kei’s eyes stretched wide. “I’ll have you know that I won the Frosty the Snowman contest in the sixth grade.”

  “Really?”

  Kei leaned across the table and his dark gaze narrowed on her. He was still a strikingly handsome man. His deep olive skin, dark black hair that lay straight from a center part, and penetrating gaze made him unmistakably hot. Why he hadn’t found a woman to appreciate him after all this time she’d never know. “I have many talents. Remember?” he asked.

  Mira swallowed her smile. She rose from the floor and went to the trash compactor, emptying the dustpan. “Maybe you should go see where Eve went. Make sure she doesn’t get into any more trouble,” she said clearing her throat. The chair at the table screeched a bit as he pushed back and rose. Mira put away the dustpan and broom. When she turned Kei was standing right behind her.

  “I’ve missed you, Mira.”

  “I know, Kei. We’ll talk. I promise.”

  ****

  Lorenzo caught Catalina just as she turned the corner. He grabbed her arm. “What’s your hurry?”

  “I, I need to see Domi. We, ugh, have something to discuss. I don’t want to miss him.”

  “Slow down. Got a question for you.”

  “What are you doing here?” Catalina asked. He dragged her toward the next hall were the doors to the outside terrace were. “Stop pulling on me!” she yanked against his hold but couldn’t break free. “Gio said you weren’t supposed to return without his permission.” The unspoken rule was Lorenzo was never to arrive at Melanzana uninvited unless called upon by business. How the fuck could he act as underboss and be pushed out of his family home? Giovanni’s mood swings had gotten to the point where Lorenzo had agreed. After a year of failing to locate Angelo or Fish, the Calderone fury his cousin carried with him was turned on their family. Rocco and Zia were asked to leave, and Lorenzo was again stripped of his rank. The man they knew had disappeared. Who Giovanni was today frightened them all. And the blame for Fabiana’s and Mira’s deaths, and Flavio’s betrayal, were all laid at Lorenzo’s feet.

  He walked Catalina out to the terrace and glanced around. There was no one near. “I said I need to talk to you.”

  “Something wrong? Is it Domi?”

  “What?” Lorenzo frowned. “Would you stop mothering Domi? He’s a fucking man not a baby.”

  “I only meant—.”

  “You spent time with Mira when she was here, two years ago.”

  “Mira?”

  “Catalina! I don’t have time for this shit. You two were close right?”

  “Yes. Well no. She designed my wedding dress. I only knew her and Fabiana for a few days. I liked her, a lot.”

  Lorenzo wiped his hand down his face. He struggled with his words. He couldn’t let Catalina in on what he knew. Hell, he wasn’t sure of the information himself, but she was the next logical step. There was no way in hell he would talk to Gio about this. “Did she ever talk of another man? Someone she was seeing in the States?”

  “A man? Why would she talk about a man with me?”

  “Catalina this is important! Think!” he shouted at her.

  “Lo, don’t bring her up okay? Gio is different now, and it’s because of that woman. What happened to those women here, we don’t talk about them. Ever.”

  Lorenzo felt a twinge of guilt for shouting at her. He touched the side of her face. “Forgive me.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t understand why you are questioning me about Mira Ellison.” She touched his hand that was pressed to her left cheek.

  “Do you trust me? Trust that I only want what is best for you and Gio?”

  “Yes. But Gio only let’s me near him now. He get’s so angry when you come here. Please, just go.”

  “Trust me now, and answer my questions without ones of your own. Do you remember a man in her life other than Giovanni?”

  Catalina nodded. “Yes. She never discussed him with me, but I remember a man. There was an article on her before her death. It said she was engaged. I told Giovanni about it. I think after her death the man took over her business. It was in her will. She left everything to him.”

  Lorenzo froze. “What was his name? Do you know his name?”

  “A Chinese millionaire, Kei Hi-ho something.” Catalina nodded. “After she died, they had special television broadcasts on her life, hers and Fabiana’s. I couldn’t stop watching them. This man of hers didn’t come to the funeral. That’s why I remember him. The news said he was too upset and lives in seclusion or somet
hing.”

  In his gut Lorenzo felt the connection was there. This could be it. The one thing he could give his cousin that would gain his unwavering trust. Dominic would no longer be consigliere. Lorenzo would be at Giovanni’s side making all family decisions. He couldn’t believe his luck. “Kei? Chinese? I love it!”

  Catalina frowned. Lorenzo swept her up in his arms and spun her around the terrace. Catalina squealed, trying to break free. “I love you! This is it! This is it!”

  “This is what? Why do you want to know about Mira?”

  “We’re going to get Giovanni back. Mira Ellison is the way to do it.”

  “But… she’s dead.”

  Lorenzo stalked away. He needed proof. And he knew exactly how to get it.

  Chapter Two

  Milan, Italy

  Four days later

  “Why are we here?”

  “Lo says it’s important.” Dominic answered.

  Milan was Lorenzo’s new home. He’d lost the property in Bellagio to Giovanni. It was part of his punishment, a small part, for being such a royal fuck-up. However, Giovanni did allow him to keep the place in Milan. Irritated and a bit fatigued from his schedule, Giovanni opened the door and started out. The temperature was on a constant decline. The heavy wool threads of his trench coat offered little warmth. The wind blew his hair from his brow and tickled his bearded jaw. Catalina had been on him to shave it. He refused. He kept it neatly trimmed low to his jawline. It connected with his mustache and sideburns. The change reflected more of him now than the man she wished would resurface.

  Icy rain fell lightly from the sky and his driver held an umbrella large enough to cover two men over his head. He stalked across the street and headed to Lorenzo’s doorstep. Dominic followed close behind. Before he climbed the front steps the door flung open, Giovanni lifted his gaze and met his cousin’s expectant stare.

  “Gio.” Lorenzo smiled brightly, sweeping his gaze over the three of them. “Benvenuti.” Lorenzo held the door open.