part0023

Carlo lifted his head and looked at his son nursing his mother breast. He smiled down at his baby boy and kissed Adara’s shoulder. He’d learn the art of changing nappies. He was damn good at it. At some point in the night their child woke. Carlo made sure the bassinet was closest to Adara’s side of the bed. It helped Adara sleep to know that any time in the night their son could be in her arms and feed from her breast. Though he spent most of his adult life alone and only kept time with whores, he felt as if he could seriously get used to family life. Taking care of Adara and his son was his new normal.

He got up and went to the bathroom first to drain his dick. He came back to the bed to see Adara frowning.

“I told you I had to pee!”

“Oh?” he gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

He took the baby and Adara shoved him playfully before she made a quick dash to the bathroom. They had the best talk of their marriage the night before. He lay with her in his arms and answered every question she threw at him about Shae. And he wasn’t afraid to answer truthfully. To his surprise, his wife understood his conflict. Though she said he was the one true love of her life, she believed Carlo was capable of loving both women. Adara had a remarkable way of saying the thing he needed to hear and offering the trust he needed the most. Her faith in him was something he had to get used to. Even Shae had her doubts about their love. But not Adara. She was one hundred percent committed.

Baby Carmine began to whine when he unfastened his diaper. The boy stared up at him and poked out his bottom lip. He was only a month old still he was gaining weight and very strong willed.

“She’s coming right back,” Carlo chuckled. To Carlo’s dismay, he uncovered that the diaper change was more than he expected. The poop was everywhere on his son’s bum and genitalia. It was also green.

“Wow? Thanks, love!” he called out to Adara.

“You’re welcome!” she said from the bathroom.

He shook his head. The wipes helped but it seemed that the more he cleaned his son the more wipes were needed. Adara returned and slipped her arms around his waist. “You are such a good father. Did you know that?”

“I’m practicing.”

“No need to practice, you do it naturally.”

Baby Carmine began to suck his fists. He lifted his legs for his Papa. “I want to get this right,” he confessed.

“It’s not a test for you to pass or fail. It only takes love, Carlo.” She let him go and walked over to the bed and sat down. Carlo gathered the wipes smeared in poop. He put them all in a plastic bag, which he knotted and tossed to the bin.

“I had a dream last night,” she said.

Carlo walked over with their son. He put the infant in his wife’s arms. She smiled and removed her breast.

“Still hungry?” she asked the baby.

“What was the dream?” he asked on his way to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“I dreamed the future. In my dream, we moved away. To America. And you had your company fixing and building things.”

“Yes. And... you had us, me and Carmine, we were a family.” Adara touched her son’s face. “And you had someone else too.”

Carlo returned from the bathroom drying his hands with a towel. “Who?”

“Your daughter. She was in your life too. We found Shae and you were able to have the relationship with your daughter.”

“That’s a helluva dream.”

“Maybe one day we can make it a reality. Maybe we can leave this all behind Carlo?”

“Our life is here, in the Camorra.”

She shook her head no. “Maybe it shouldn’t be.”

Carlo moved her hair from the side of her face. “You know I can never leave.”

“This place is killing you. The Battaglias, they’ve taken everything from you. It’s not going to last. I know my father and my uncles gave their all to this life and look where they ended up. All of their children lost. Their wives gone mad with grief. Think of Lorenzo. No matter his betrayal, he’s your Don’s brother. Look what has become of him, his wife, his child. We have to give our son a different future. Not for us, for him.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we don’t focus on the future.”

“Because this time, right here, is the best time.” Carlo answered. “And because I need to fix the present to have a future.”

“Yes, Renaldo called. I got a problem with the Russians and the Santoro’s. A few arrests. Things are sensitive with Giovanni’s business affairs.”

“Please be careful, Carlo. I’ve told you before. The Generale di corpo d'armata is watching all of you. He’s going to strike eventually.”

He kissed her brow. “I’m always careful. Let me shower and get dressed. I might make it home in time for dinner if I get my ass moving now.”

She looked like she wanted to object but she let him go. He walked into the shower and stripped off his underwear. Under the steamy heat of the water he relaxed and cleared his head. When he was done Adara had changed and moved from the bedroom to the front of the villa. His boy was in her arms as she went about cleaning.

“When is your brother returning from Istanbul?”

“Two days. He only went to see our family. He hasn’t seen them in so long. But I got his room ready. He’ll need a job, Carlo.”

“Yes, yes, I’m working on it. Oh? I spoke to Rolando. He’s going to send over some new boys to watch the place until your brother returns.”

“New? What’s wrong with Tao, and Nevis? The three that comes here every day?”

“On my way out I’m going to stop and pay them a visit,” Carlo said as he fastened his watch to his wrist. “They need to know to keep my business private.”

“Don’t be angry. We talked about it. I’m glad we did.”

“Yes,” He walked over and lifted her chin with his finger. “I’m glad I married a woman who can put up with me. All of me.” He kissed her. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Promise.”

He kissed his son. The baby slept undisturbed by his father’s parting goodbye. He took another look at his wife. He wasn’t sure why but it was as if he was really appreciating what she offered to him for the first time.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“America! Land of the brave and home of the free. Who is braver than you? Who needs freedom more than you? Think about it. Wherever you go we will follow. Even if you decide you want us to stay right here.”

He winked and his smile broadened. He went for his gun before he was out of the door. Their three story villa home was a twenty foot drop to the street that went south on a slopping mountain road. He walked out of the back door and down many steps then around to the front where the cars were all parallel parked on the street. Carlo bypassed his car and continued walking. He was going to kick some ass in his organization. He’d teach his boys to keep their mouths shut.

He paused and looked up. Adara had opened the third-story window. She leaned forward smiling.

“Bring home some milk and eggs!” she joked.

He chuckled. She blew him a kiss and went back inside. Carlo shook his head. Being domesticated felt nice.

FIVE MINUTES AFTER Carlo left, Adara heard a knock at the door. She put baby Carmine in the bassinet. To keep an eye on him she’d wheeled to the front of the villa. Her little boy was swaddled tight and had his pacifier to keep him company. He was a good boy between feedings. She guessed she’d have maybe thirty minutes before she heard him cry for her.

The knocking at the door became more persistent.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming!” She tied her robe and hurried to the door. “What did you forget?” Adara released the double bolts and opened it. Her smile froze on her face. It wasn’t Carlo. It was just another kid no older than nineteen. Very skinny and very pale. He wore a UNLV red baseball cap. A loose fitted jacket with no shirt underneath and jeans that seemed soiled.

“Where’s Rolando?” she asked.

The young man stared at her with dark eyes that appeared void of understanding. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. He just stared at her as if he expected something in return. Carlo’s boys often came in various conditions. Some of the kids were chatty or unfriendly. Others were angry and argumentative. And often times she met boys like this one. Lost with no real purpose. She smiled to comfort him.

“Come in. You just missed Carlo. Are you hungry?”

Adara turned and headed back to the bassinet. She always checked on baby Carmine when he rested. She’d read every magazine on parenting she could find. And the first three months were all about his security and nurturing.

The young man was now standing next to her. He stared down at the baby.

“This is Carlo’s son. We call him baby Carmine,” she said. “Keep your eye on him for me. I’ll be right back.”

She turned to head to the kitchen. On instinct she looked back to see the young man reaching in the crib and picking up her son.

“No. Don’t do that. He’s sleep. Don’t touch—”

The young man removed a knife. He held her son to his chest and aimed the knife at his face. Adara froze. She couldn’t even scream. Her training made her want to react, of course, but her mother instinct told her to remain still. The pointed edge of the knife was so close to her sleeping son’s eye that if he woke its point could scrape his pupil.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“What do I want?” the boy answered in an American accent. “Not who am I?”

“Okay,” she put up her hands to show him she meant him no harm. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Angel of death,” he answered.

“Please. He’s just a baby.”

“And she was my sister!” the kid shouted. “My only sister! Her name was Marissa! Say it! Say it!”

“Marissa, “Adara said. “Where is she? What happened?”

“Carlo took her from me.”

“How?” she asked and took another step forward.

“He took everything from me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what Carlo did, but my son had nothing to do with it.”

The boy gripped the knife tighter and she knew in her soul that he was seconds from plunging the knife into her baby.

“Wait! What is your name? Tell me your name?” Adara inched closer.

“Jasper, my family called me Callisthenes . They don’t want me anymore. I have no family. Without my twin sister, I have nothing. No one.”

“Your problem is with Carlo. Not us. He’s the one that took everything from you. He’s the one you should be punishing,” Adara said and took another step forward. She kept her hands raised to appear less threatening.

“The Angel of Death knows that. Carlo has no soul to take. He’s already dead. But this baby, his son. That soul is pure. Even if it isn’t a girl.”

“It’s not his baby,” Adara shouted.

“What?” Jasper paused.

“It’s not. Carlo married me because I was pregnant. He wanted to give me a family. He married me out of guilt over what Giovanni Battaglia took away from me. I’m the daughter of Angelo Calderone. That child is mine it’s not his son!”

Jasper looked at the baby and then her. Adara had found the key and she planned to turn it all the way to get the invader to bend his will and not kill her poor baby.

“I’m the one you need to take, Angel of Death. I’m the one that Carlo wants. You said you’re from America. Right?”

Jasper didn’t respond. The knife was still dangerously close to her son. Adara took another step forward. “Carlo told me about America. About a woman named Shae. That’s the woman he loves. But she doesn’t love him. So he settled for me. He made me replace her. If you want to take a soul, then take mine. It’s the soul that Carlo owns. Mine.”

The baby was thrown into the bassinet like a sack of garbage. Carmine cried out and her child’s screams were like a knife to her heart. Frozen by shock she was slow to react as Jasper charged her. She went left to avoid the strike of the knife. Jasper’s reach was long. The blade pierced her right arm instead of her chest. She felt nothing but pure rage. The bastard was going to die. Adara ducked and swung out her left leg that clipped his legs and he went down hard. Jasper recovered quick. He crawled from her to go after the knife. Adara too went after the knife. They both rolled on the floor fighting each other and scrambling for the better reach. In the struggle the knife was pushed further away. It was then Adara realized the risk. If he got the knife her son’s life could not be saved. So she put all her energy and soul into destroying him as oppose to claiming the weapon. He fought back like an alley cat. All scratches and bites. She used her knees to drive him up and off her. Then she stumped his groin. He howled in pain as she crushed his genitals. She dropped on him and dug her fingernails into his eyes. He grabbed some object to his right and hit her across the head. It dazed her for a moment and it was enough for him to gain the advantage. He flipped her over punching her and she gripped his throat and flipped him back over.

Adara was in charge. She had him pinned beneath her. With him weighing no more than her she was able to keep him down. And she used one hand to strangle his neck and the other to pound her first repeatedly into his face over and over. And when she tired, he didn’t. He extended his hand and reached the knife. She didn’t know until it pierced her side. Adara let him go and yanked the blade out. She was wounded. But she was not done with him. Not even close.

CARLO KNOCKED THREE times on the door before abandoning his mission of discipline. He knew the boys were inside. They’d probably figured out what they’d done wrong. They were young and reckless but none of them were fearless. Typically, he thought violence was the only discipline that should be dealt. Those opinions had evolved since the birth of his son.

“I’ll be back!” he said to the door.

No one responded. Carlo shook his head and walked away. He checked the time on his watch. If he didn’t get started there was no way he’d make it back before nightfall with milk and eggs. He needed to meet his contact over at the jailhouse and soon. The Santoro sons were locked behind bars in the Campania. Even though Don Santoro had joined the Neapolitan Camorristi his clout was limited with the authorities. This was a delicate matter and the boss had finally trusted him to handle it.

Deep in thought Carlo bounded back down the stairs of the villa homes to the street. He walked toward his park car and passed several others. A red car squeezed between a delivery truck and a black two door Fiat caught his attention. He stopped before the car. It was a Peugeot. And it was empty. Carlo back tracked to look at the car. He stooped and stared at the missing bumper. It was then he saw bullet holes.

“Motherfucker... Adara—”

In an instant he turned to run to his villa. And it was in that instant the crash came. A loud shattering of glass accompanied a scream. Carlo looked up to see Adara and her attacker falling out of the third-story window with shards of glass raining with them. The man landed in the street, but Adara hit the hood of a car smashing its windshield. Carlo ran for her first. She was still and bloody. He drew her into his arms and staggered backward. He fell with her on him. She wasn’t dead. It’s what his mind screamed over and over. He touched her face and his hand became soaked in her blood.

“No, cara , please no, God!” he said and brought her up to his chest and held her tight so he could feel her heartbeat. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this to me. Don’t.” He kept her to his heart as if his own love could make hers beat again. He couldn’t feel her breath from her lips or nostrils, he couldn’t feel her heartbeat against his chest. Others arrived. Voices raised in horror and panic. His gaze lifted over his dead wife’s head to see them helping the man who had fallen with Adara. The motherfucker was alive . Though his legs look broken he’d survived the fall. Carlo drew his gun. He let his beloved go and rested her gently on the pavement. He stood. A woman screamed a warning and the others turned and observed Carlo as he stepped to the murderer. Carlo could see the face of the kid and he knew that face. All the while he believed that he was being tailed by the Santoro’s, Russians, or even someone from the family tracking his moves for Giovanni. Never once did he suspect this danger.

It was the Tahvo Armenian runt from America. He was the butcher of women. The one that the American press labeled the Angel of Death. The bastard had been on him all along? How? How the fuck was it even possible? What did he miss? The bleeding maggot was still alive. The bastard was the reason he lost Shae in America and his daughter. He was the reason why he lost his second chance at happiness with Adara. He’d lost everything over this one squirming maggot? How!

Carlo stood over the dying boy. He stared down at him with his gun aimed at the young man’s face but he soon realized that the shot between the fucker’s eyes would be too merciful so he aimed lower. He wanted him to feel more pain that the scores of women he tortured and killed had. He wanted him to wiggle and squirm like a dying fish on the concrete. He wanted his justice before the runt was sent as express delivery to hell. He kicked the leg of the bastard so he would open his eyes and see him.

The kid looked up dazed at first and groaned in agony. Then it came. Clarity shifted in the young man’s eyes and his face deadpanned at the sight of Carlo with the gun. Instead of begging for mercy or whimpering an explanation the young man smiled. His teeth were both knocked loose and covered in blood. And even more blood spilled from the side of his mouth.

“Carlo,” the fucker croaked. “Good to see you again!”

Carlo shot the kid in the foot. The boy howled in agony. He blew out both of the murderer’s knee caps. He then smiled as the boy screamed for mercy. He aimed at his groin. The first two shots didn’t kill him. Carlo was disappointed when the third did. Carlo shredded the freak’s groin with all the bullets left in his gun. The clip emptied and Carlo dropped the gun. One of the boys who were hiding from Carlo earlier was among the spectators. Another one of them picked up the gun and ran with it. Carlo didn’t notice. In a trance of grief and disbelief, he walked over to Adara who lay in the street lifeless. The crowd parted. He scooped her limp body into his arms and headed back to the home she made for him and his son. He heard sirens in the distance. He heard women crying and others shouting that he was Camorra and to stay away. A few even called him the Butcher. He didn’t care. He needed to take her inside. To keep her safe, with his son.

“Eve?” Mirabella replied. “Tomorrow. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“But you said we could visit the schools today. You promised.”

“I know, sweetheart. I called the schools and we have to set appointments. You have your appointments to see them tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Eve threw up her hands as if she’d won a championship. Mirabella shook her head smiling. More food was brought to the table. Cecilia was up and serving not only Nico but also the twins. Ella admonished her and told her to sit. She took on serving the family. Mirabella enjoyed her family the most at meal time. Then the soft grumble of thunder sounded in the distance. She glanced out to the gardens at the storm clouds forming. It had been raining a lot lately. She wanted today to be a day of sunshine. It would be a welcome relief from the pending dread she carried since she left Sicily. All she could sense was death. And it made her weak with fear.

“Donna? Scusi? You have a—”

“Where is she? I must speak to her now!” screamed a woman in distress. Everyone on the terrace fell silent. Mirabella saw Arielle running towards her. She had broken free of the men. Her face was covered in tears and her makeup smeared. She shouted accusations at Mirabella in Italian and English.

“Nico!” Mirabella said. She didn’t have too. Nico was already up and handling the woman. Cecilia came over to take the baby from Mirabella and Belinda and Kyra saw to the kids. They were ushered in the house. Arielle’s screams were so torturous they made her words unclear.

“What is it?” Mirabella asked her men over the hysteria. A few had a look of shock on their faces.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on!”

Leo was brave enough to approach.

“Donna, it’s Carlo and Adara,” he said.

“Dead! Dead!” Arielle screamed.

“Carlo, Adara who they’re dead?” Mirabella looked to Nico for an explanation. His eyes were stretched with horror as well. He clearly didn’t know.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We can’t get much out of her. I think they’re both dead.”

“Jesus,” Mirabella went to Arielle. She forced Nico to let her hold the woman. Arielle clung to Mirabella and wailed in agony. “Nico! Find out what the fuck is going on!” Mirabella shouted at him. He bolted inside. She too was crying. She held Arielle as the woman’s agonizing pain was shared with everyone. She could do nothing but rock with her in her arms. Death was coming. But it wasn’t supposed to come this way.

“Donna!” Nico returned. “Carlo is in jail. I heard from one of his men. They said they took him away. A neighbor has the baby.”

“He killed my Adara. He killed her!” Arielle wept.

“No, he wouldn’t do that. He loved her. Nico? Is Adara dead?”

Nico nodded. “I don’t know what happened. We’re trying to figure it out. I think he might... something bad has happened.”

“We have to go to Naples. Now. Leo, take Arielle and get her something strong to drink. I’ll get dressed. Bring the cars. I want ten men with us! Ten!”

“Donna, we can handle it,” Nico said. “You don’t have to deal with it personally.”

“No!” Mirabella said through tears. “No, I’ll handle this. I want all my best men with me. Carlo didn’t kill her, but whoever did better damn well be dead before I get there.” She said and stormed past the men.

When he carried her inside of their home and laid her in their bed he took the time to clean her face of blood. His son wailed from his bassinet but he didn’t hear him. He cleaned her the best he could. The gash to the right side of her head and crushed in left eye socket. It didn’t, however, change her beauty. She looked angelic. He got on his knees at the side of the bed and he prayed. The prayer taught to him by his mother to repent against his sins. He prayed for her resurrection though he knew God would never grant such a wish. He prayed for forgiveness to a God who never gave him a chance at redemption. And he realized that he was soulless and unworthy of the prayer. So prayed he for death.

The polizia found him on his knees praying with his son wailing from his bassinet. It took four of them with batons to bring him down and drag him from his home. He was thrown in the back of a wagon where he took out his rage on another captured prisoner. He wasn’t sure but he might have broken the man’s neck. They then hurled him into the cell. It looked like all the other jail cells he’d spent his life behind. And it was here he belonged.

“Carlo Giordano,” the guard said.

Carlo didn’t move. He sat with his shoulders slumped and his eyes fixed on the blood on his hands.

“Don’t make me come in there to get you, inmate,” the guard warned.

Carlo lifted his gaze only a fraction of an inch. Enough to see the guard’s shoes. He didn’t move but if the guard did he’d be stepping into his death.

“Your black Donna is here. Do you want to see her or not?”

The request cleared the fog. Carlo again couldn’t register the time. If Mirabella had come, then that meant much more time had passed than he thought. Maybe it meant he was wrong. Maybe Adara was alive and she had come to tell him the news. His head slowly lifted. The guard smirked. Carlo stood. His leg muscles cramped and tensed. He’d been seated in the same position for far too long.

The guard led him down a long hall of holding cells toward the front of the jail. Many of the inmates came to the jail bars to watch him pass them by. Several were brave enough to chant his name. It was a name only known to those in la Camorra . He saw several armed officers gathered to greet him. He willed himself to be sane. His anger would do him no good now.

Carlo was taken to a door and then his handcuffs were unlocked. The door was opened by a guard before him who gave him a leveled glare as a warning to behave before he was allowed to pass. Arielle was standing. Mirabella looked up from her seat and stood. Nico was with them. It was Arielle who ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“They told me what happened! Carlo? Adara, my sweet girl is gone. How did you let this happen?”

He looked to Mirabella but held Arielle while she wept and beat her fists against his chest for answers. His only goal was to remain sane. Arielle realized he wasn’t returning her embrace. She let him go. “Say something damn it,” Arielle wept.

“Arielle, please. Let us speak to him.” Mirabella said.

Arielle paced away with her hands in her hair and mumbles of pain over her loss.

“There was evidence of a struggle. The authorities think she fought with her attacker. That is why they fell from the window. Witnesses refuse to cooperate to identify the shooter. They aren’t able to find a gun,” Nico said.

“That’s enough,” Mirabella said. “We won’t discuss it further here without lawyers.”

Nico nodded. Arielle covered her face and cried. Mirabella approached. Carlo stared at her but didn’t offer any explanation. And then Mirabella said something that explained it all. “You’re in shock, aren’t you sweetheart?” Mirabella touched his face.

Shock? Is that what they called it? All he knew was he had to try to remain sane, because if he didn’t bad things would happen. Namely he’d kill everyone in sight.

Mirabella sighed. “We have to go before the judge to get you released on bail. They said you hurt someone in the transport van. The man is refusing to give details on his injuries.” Mirabella glanced back at Nico. “They think it’s because his neck is broken and he can’t speak. But he may speak eventually Carlo. We know you are innocent.”