Animus (19 page)

“I’ll get you eventually. Too bad whoever shot you didn’t aim
straight through your brain.”

Knuckles of flesh felt like brass when they collided with Mr. Johnson’s face, sending him crashing to the table beside his cheap wine. The shriek from his wife when he slumped there wasn’t for her husband, but for her precious pine table that cracked loudly before it broke.

“Grazie for the food. I will send payment for the table. Buona notte,” Giuseppe said and tipped his hat.

~ ~

Giuseppe sat across from Shanda, cradling his sleeping son. He watched the boy’s mother as she fidgeted. “What is wrong?”

Her eyes were unable to stay still. She was ashamed and looked away from the human ocean’s depth. He had come, just as Sophie warned, but she had planned to leave her parent’s house anyway.
“Nothing.”

“Then why do you keep twisting in your seat?”

“I didn’t know it was against the law?”

He smiled, because he had answered similarly to a question she posed on an occasion. “Touché.”

“I’m sorry I dipped out.”

“You were afraid for o
ur son.”

“I was afraid you might die,” she answered honestly. “I’m not good at funerals Giuseppe of people I care about.”

He stretched his legs toward her, slumping in the comfortable seat. “And you care about me is why you fled, once again?”

“I just admitted to that, didn’t I?”

“You fear to care, that is what I see.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do not have to hide your feelings bella. Tell me what it is that frightens you?”

Shanda leaned an elbow on the arm rest and placed her chin in her hand, staring at the handsome face. Expectant and interested is the expression she witnessed. None of the previous guys ever cared about what was in her mind or heart for that matter. Giuseppe seemed to know her better than she knew herself. Running, well, she felt like she’
d been running all her life –until Giuseppe. “I don’t know.”

“You do. Tell me.”

“Alright, you really want to know?”

“I believe that is why I asked.”

“I’m fearful that I’ll love somebody and then the guy will get bored and tired, start cheating and shit once I’ve gained a few pounds or get a dimple in my butt. He’ll then find himself a later model version Shanda after he’s gotten all the mileage out of me.”

Giuseppe’s eyes widened. “Aye, you
r past relationships have led to your low self-esteem.” He adjusted the bambino on his chest and reclined more as Shanda watched him nervously, hoping he did not drop their son. “I believe what you fear is to love –me!”

Shanda rolled her eyes. “You’re too cocky.”

“And what is wrong with that?” he asked. “I love you bella. When I did not see you when I awakened, fear is what I felt.”

~ ~

Giuseppe watched Carlo sleep. The emptiness of a house had once again become a home. He smiled at his bambino, promising many things, but most importantly, pledging his love and protection
, which had been Giuseppe’s ritual.

In the Jacuzzi is where he found Shanda. She had her eyes closed, relaxing from the long flight. He sat on the edge
of the hot tub, watching, not wanting to disturb her peaceful moment.

“I heard you.”

“Am I that loud?”

“No, but I have good hearing.” Her eyes remained shut as she spoke.

“May I join you?”

“When have you ever asked for anything?”

“With you I will ask and never take.”

She smiled. “It’s okay to take once in a while.”

He stripped and stepped in. “Look at me.”

Her eyes did not open. “That sounded like a demand. You train dogs that way.”

“With dogs the tone is different. With you it is soft. “

Her eyes opened and Giuseppe grinned. “Kiss me.”

“Another demand. Hmmm, how about you come and kiss me.”

His hands clamped her waist. He hunched to kiss her. The fire he missed burned him to ash. The water made her buoyant as he lifted her to fit him and took without asking. His swollen rod became his voice and he cried her name with each forceful thrust. Her breaths were his
. What he dreamed became real. He needed more of such dreams. The fight or flight response is the body’s defense mechanism when faced with danger. He fought for this woman because he was in danger of losing her each day.

Her arms clung to his neck as he climbed out with her and carried her upstairs. They dripped, and it is his footprints which marked the path. He would give her anything she desired. His heart had chosen. One night out of many with others and she became the one he could not forget. He placed her down on the bed; spread her thighs to kneel and worship his bella with languid kisses. Her hands avoided his injury to lovingly caress his shoulders and neck before succumbing to the pleasure of his tongue.

She flopped back and he rose, admiring the beauty of her form. The curve of her hips, the supple breasts are only a part of what he missed. He missed the banter, the wise-cracks from a witty woman and her cooking. He would never reveal this to his mama, but Shanda’s artichokes were far better. He laughed at himself for thinking of such a thing and lowered himself down to play with her breasts; stimulating her clitoris simultaneously and she smiled and said his name. “Giuseppe.”

He
crawled over her, and on bended knees took hold of her ankles, lifting her legs and placing her feet on either side of his head in somewhat of a shoulder-stand. Her hips rested over his pelvis and her legs were against his chest. The penetration was deep, the speed slow initially, then more rapid and purposeful. She gasped when he held her thighs, sinking deeper, increasing the tempo making her cry his name and she clung with wet hands as nature’s lubricants proved what he knew. He did not ask what it is she wanted, they both agreed through movement. He took control of the depth with each thrusting motion and sent blood rushing to her head. She tingled during the multiple orgasms. She did not think. A head rush is what she got as hungry vaginal muscles gripped and suctioned every drop of Giuseppe's cum.

Carlo
cried and parents froze.

The mother smiled.

The father grinned.

Sticking together, dual eyes
twinkled. He withdrew from her wetness, gave her a kiss and padded naked to answer his son. She did not follow. She trusted by now, he knew what to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nico’s car parked inside the gates of the villa after the security recognized him and waved him on. “Grazie,” he said to the familiar face before parking atop cobblestones in the driveway.

The large ornate door of the house with brass handles opened and the woman who greeted him with long silky hair brandished a smile. “Nico, what a surprise,” she said folding him in her arms and the kiss meant for his cheek fell short of his chin.

“Buongiorno…buongiorno,” he replied as she lead him into the parlor where he
had previously spent mourning his father beside a widow he thought was nice. He looked from ceiling to floor and in each corner of the painted walls for signs of her treachery as if somehow it would show.

“
Are the girls are asleep?” he asked, sliding the backpack down his arms and into his hands.

“Perhaps. They are in their bedrooms.” She
led Nico to comfortable seats in the parlor and he sat beside her, legs planted firmly to the floor.

“I have something to show you.”

Her eyes were smiling. “Eh, it must be important for you to come at notte, sí?”

“Sí.” The laptop was booted and the
flash drives in his pocket, inserted.

Within seconds the video played and he watched her eyes all the while. The computer rested on his lap. Very slowly his hand took hold of the weapon inside the backpack. The moment he saw the smile fade from her lovely eyes, the gun nozzle pressed her side, aligned with her heart. “Che cosa è questo?”

She sat regally and did not speak.

“Bianca l'assassino. I would never have guessed.”

The woman did not blink. The neck of a swan, long lashes on the lovely innocent face reminded him it is the least suspecting who were the most lethal to a man’s heart.

“We will go for a drive. The
I will not harm the girls,” he said as he slid the laptop back inside the bag without releasing the weapon. He did not need to look to coordinate his actions. These were mechanical movements he could have performed in the dark. With the backpack on his arm he rose, yanking her to her feet. “Let’s go.”

They turned, walked to the door and he reached for the doorknob, but drew back at the faint sounds of soft feet. He seized Bianca to his chest, gun to her throat and spun around for the girls to see they must cease or he would kill them all.
Yet, a brother, even one much older has a soft spot for young sisters with such bright spirits. His chest was regret clamping on stone.

Evangeline had the weapon, not on
safety; it was pointed at his head and Madeline’s silver pistol at the mouth. There were tears in their eyes, rolling and dripping on painted sparkly toenails. Such femininity existed within these walls; Alberti certainly brought a balance with his masculinity and cigars.

“Grande fratellino, por favore let our mama go…por favore,” Madeline cried.

“Ragazze mettere giù le armi!” he hissed and they jumped but the arms held straight, their grip remained tight. They were trained in weaponry and he was sad and proud. He repeated the demand. “Girls, put the guns down, ora!”

“No grande fratellino. Release our mama!” Evangeline said boldly although her lip quivered. Her brother was legend. They would not survive if he shot, but she could not allow him to kill their mother when she had done nothing wrong. They must die
together; the pledge of the family required they die before they talk.

Nico’s eyes assessed the girls. It is the watch
he gave them during a previous visit that led him here after viewing the video.  They were not innocent. What other deeds had they done?

Madeline, the emotional one sobbed. “Mama, por favore tell him…tell him…por favore mama. I do not want to hurt Nico mama.”

Bianca hissed. “Silenzio figlia!”

“Tell me what Madeline. Speak sorella che amo.”

The endearment loosened her tongue. “Papa swore us to secrecy grande fratello. We are helping you and your real mama-”

Bianca’s elbow collided with Nico’s ribcage, his wrist twisted and he was disarmed by a woman
during a distraction. But, his heart did not stop beating until he saw the figures moving with such speed and agility like muscled cats that he grew fearful for the girls.

“Do not hurt them boys!” he cautioned his sons, aware of their innocence.

Aaron and Darren had the girls in chokeholds and the weapons were being torn from their hands. An involuntary reflex during the struggle caused a painted girl’s finger to flex. The wayward bullet struck Nico where he once instructed Alfonzo to aim –at his heart!

The
massive body stumbled backward, an image of a lovely and angry wife in his mind. Ari was certain to become upset at the boys for this. Damn kids never listened was a father’s last thought before he impacted with the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Alfonzo kissed each of his children good-night, saving Sal for last. The boy had a later curfew and these were the Dad and Me moments he never had growing up. The bonds tighten here with fathers and sons. Alfonzo wanted the boy to know, no matter what, he loved him and not a day would go by without the words being spoken. Too many regrets were the depressed who allowed their pride and stubbornness to stifle their emotions. Sometimes, being too busy also got in the way of the hugs and kisses. The missed calls went unreturned until tomorrow, but who’s guaranteed a tomorrow?

No one, not even the young.

Harsh reality is life. The ‘hood taught him that when he was a kid around Sal’s age. In el barrio of Nueva York, there were gunfights regularly. Drug dealers, robbers, cops wilding out from fear blasting shots in residential neighborhoods as kids played, not to mention the child abuse cases and hit and runs which attributed to the deaths. Children were the victims, innocent faces like his son. Yeah, he was schooled about death when he was very young.