Animus (2 page)

Nico
had ensured every entrance and exit were guarded. Of course he had. The super-diligence and extreme efficiency of a man like Nico are attributes of a professional, a skill set not everyone has. There were many superlatives which described Nico, and some were not complimentary. 

Alfonzo’s eyes settled on darker
orbitals of glass as he addressed his cousin, former bodyguard and friend. “Giuseppe, how’s he?”

“He’s in critical condition.”

Alfonzo blew hard, and then took another step. Invisible knives tore and scraped his ribcage which resulted in a gentle intake of air. He couldn’t lose his brother. Giuseppe had to live. Alfonzo had become too accustomed to the wisecracks and arrogance. Alfonzo began to feel light-headed and leaned against the wall. Nico urged him back to bed, but he refused. Alfonzo’s chin dropped to his chest and he said a silent prayer for his big brother. More time was the nature of his request. Carlo needed his father and Alfonzo didn’t want to bury anyone else he loved. “Make sure Giuseppe gets the best…do you hear me, primo?”

“It’s already done cugino,” Nico said
and placed a gentle hand on Alfonzo’s shoulder in solidarity. The weight of events was bowing the younger man over. The snot-nosed kid from NYC did well –damn good in Nico’s opinion considering the odds stacked against him. “Alfonzo, don’t worry. I’ll handle things while you gain your strength. I’m here giovani cugino.”

“I know Nico,
that’s the one damn thing I do know,” Alfonzo replied before asking, “How many did we lose?”

“Nine are dead,
one critical; four are stable, including Estefan.”

Alfonzo’s shoulders moved, but his head
did not. He was exhausted. He would never forget Estefan’s heroism. The bodyguard actually used his body to protect the women. He could still see them and his heart jumped in agony at the sight of his wife running blood. The music of doom, with a river to cross had him sobbing internally. During the gunfire, he actually believed he lost. The fight wasn’t over though; there were victims and their families which required he remain strong.

Oh father, heal my mind and body so that I may go on.

He managed to lift his heavy head, a major feat when the soul’s oppressed. “What about the attackers, do we know who sent them?”

“They’re all dead and none
had I.D.”

The swirling mist started to
dissipate from Alfonzo’s brain. “I want the bastards who did this.”

“I’ll get them…you can count it.”

There was an intense volcanic eruption in the blue eyes. Alfonzo’s lip curled and he sneered. “You don’t understand primo. I want the pleasure of skinning the person responsible like meat. I want to watch him bleed out, comprende?”

Nico nodded. He wanted to tell Alfonzo about Sabrina and what he discovered at th
at address, but held his tongue. This was not the right time. Noises caused him to glance down the hall. A shift change took place. No one was allowed near the patients without a guard present. The entire ward was under the control of the mafia. They could not trust anyone and the polizei was helpless in the matter, after-all many were on Giuseppe’s payroll. Nico signaled a soldati and he traipsed to the nurse’s station. The names and identification of employees must match those in the database which he copied and distributed to the men. New hires or those not on the list would be forcibly removed.

The men guarding the Giacanti family were the elite.  They were familiar with security procedures and could spot infiltrators. Nico personally trained
them. During his brief absence he wanted to make certain his family had the best protection. He gave Alfonzo his full attention. “Okay…anything you want.”

Alfonzo’s shoulders relaxed
. “Send monetary aid to the deceased families, anything they need, let them know I will provide.”

“Of course. I have already sent an emissary.”

“Bueno. Mucho gracias.”

“It is nothing.”

“Did Ari have the baby?” Alfonzo inquired.

“Yes, we had a girl.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s my little cousin’s name?”

“Semira.”

Alfonzo gave a lackluster grin.  Another celebratory event was overshadowed by tragedy. “I like it.” Then he palmed his chest and propelled off the wall. He rested long enough. An irritable grumble escaped his throat. Alfonzo's body wasn’t following commands and his legs were unsteady. Nico hovered too damn close and he felt like an invalid. “Nico give me some space, damn, soy bueno.”

Nico never listened. “No-can-do.”

Before Alfonzo touched the doorknob, Nico quickly did the honors. Alfonzo figured he must look fucked up because Nico behaved as if he were incapable of even the smallest tasks. Alfonzo turned his neck and aw hell, his skin stung from a swarm of invisible bees burrowing into nerve endings.

Mierda ... mierda … maldito calor!

The string of silent obscenities never reached Nico’s ears. Instead, Alfonzo covered by hissing. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get the fuck out of here and visit your newborn or something!”

“I’m waiting right here until your visit
s over and then I’ll leave after I’ve tucked you in bed. Capire, è toro testardo!”

Alfonzo snarled but chose not to debate with the bigger guy. Nico behaved worse than a nurse. Not many people got close enough to Nico to observe his mannerisms
, Alfonzo had. There were tell-tale signs Nico worried about Alfonzo’s health, such as the descending eyebrows and softening of the hard eyes. Alfonzo wanted to say something kind, but he couldn’t. They were blood, tied and bound, yet the relationship they once shared had frayed around the edges. Cordial and businesslike worked best. He just couldn’t forget…his cousin….mentor and yes friend had skewered his heart. Remembering the good deeds and years of dogged loyalty is what allowed Alfonzo to forgive. Nico’s repentance also helped Alfonzo to gradually heal. Perhaps one day he’d consider Nico a friend, but a friend is someone Alfonzo had to completely trust. There were many things he trusted Nico with, and Selange wasn’t one of them.

The door shut behind Alfonzo and he walked slowly to the woman lying in the bulky bed. The cheek exposed to the unflattering light boasted
an angry red scrape from ear to mouth.  He had to collect himself or he’d lose it.  Mierda, his fists balled tight. He wanted to smash and destroy everything in sight. He reeled in the anger before he took it out on somebody and he didn’t want to do that. His breathing regulated and he controlled the intake and expulsion as he walked at a slow pace. When he reached the side of Selange’s bed and looked at her, he choked on sadness. Alfonzo tenderly caressed her chin. His words were as gentle as his eyes. “Are you still down with me, babe?”

Selange’s eyes opened. One was saturated with a strawberry color
, hiding the hazel iris often sparkling with light. At the sight of her injuries, Alfonzo inhaled the anger…sucked it in really hard until his chest expanded and burned. 

Tranquilo…you must stay strong for her…oh geez help me padre! His mind wailed.

Selange sighed weakly. Vision was not required to see Alfonzo’s distress. “Honey don’t worry… the doctor said I’ll be okay…oh love don’t tear yourself up…you’re not to blame.”

Alfonzo rubbed his eyeballs; fatigue zapped his spirit. “Babe, you don’t have to do this anymore. I’m hurting you…” His knees bent and his glossy hair bowed to the railing in despair. He didn’t want her to see his tears. Man, he felt tired; emotionally beat.

Selange stroked his arm. “Ssssssshhhh, take my love, let it give you strength. Use it to defend our family and don’t let anyone knock down what we built tú sabe?”

He clutched her hand tightly. His desolate soul required light and she fueled his downtrodden spirit. He’d come to give comfort and instead received nourishment. Pissed for breaking down in front of her, he collected himself and rose tall. “Lo siento esposa.”

“Don’t apologize for having emotions. I’m here for you to lean on. I won’t break.”

Alfonzo stroked her hand, remembering he’d shared a similar sentiment. Ah, the pain was lifting. Funny, how the mind works, isn’t it? “Te amo, no hay duda al respecto.”

Selange’s eyes began to close. “Te quiero más.”

And after the declaration she slumbered.

Gratitude held Alfonzo immobile as he watched her breathe. Exhaustion began to claim his body and he leaned toward her. He winced as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll make whoever did this pay…I swear to you esposa.” A thumb caressed her temple. The black lashes were feathers fanning her creamy brown skin. His family was everything and someone attempted to shred them to human pieces. He thought of his children. He saved their mom, yes; mom and dad were still here. Giuseppe however fought for life on what should be a celebratory hang-over. The soreness to his ribcage was a reminder to never show mercy, such an attribute was for a priest, which he’d never be!

CHAPTER TWO

Bad news travels fast. Even across the sea, those who knew the Diaz family began to learn of the tragedy via calls and TV. Shanda’s parents had finished dinner and Mrs. Johnson had taken the dishes to the kitchen, when her husband received a frantic call from their daughter Shanda. “Are you alright girl?”
a concerned father asked his baby.

Shanda’s voice trembled and he could hear the distress in every syllable. “There were bullets everywhere…my baby was right
in the middle of the shooting.”

“Is the baby okay?” Mr. Johnson
inquired as he stood, hurried to the kitchen and put the phone on speaker for his wife to listen. “We’re coming to bring you home…where are you?”

Shanda
gave them the information and Mrs. Johnson rushed to gather their things as her husband calmed their frightened child. No matter what, she was their daughter and if she asked for help they’d be there. “Mom and I are on the way. We’ll call when we land. Hold tight honey…don’t worry daddy’s coming.”

Mr. Johnson disconnected and in frustration punched the palm of his hand. He
warned his daughter something like this might happen if she continued to hang around Selange and that bastard husband. The damn girl was hard-headed and went and got knocked-up by some mobster. Shanda had mimicked her friend, and currently found herself in the center of trouble. Criminals don’t have honor. They steal and ignore the law and use guns to solve problems. Eventually, they wound up in jail or dead. Exasperated, Mr. Johnson shook his head. Shanda’s association with those people destroyed his career.

Internal Affairs
dangled him over the coals; the Mayor and his boss had distanced themselves and left him out in the cold. Thirty five years on the force and not one blemish on his record, until that sonovabitch Alfonzo set him up. Oh, they found phone records, and brought up his visit to Puerto Rico when Shanda went missing. They insinuated he knew where she was all along and hid it from them. Yeah, the feds vouched he’d assisted in getting his daughter to wear a wire, but that’s all. See, they didn’t know his little girl was involved with Giuseppe Dichenzo, the head of the Sicilian mob. And to make matters worse is the unexplained large deposit to his bank account. The sonovabitch Alfonzo was good; he had to admit, because they weren’t able to trace a dime to him, un-unh. The bank he used to transfer the money came from a dummy organization which originated in Medellin, Colombia. The same bank suspected of laundering money for the Colombian drug cartel.

It didn’t look good. His career was over. Yeah, the department’s investigation wouldn’t exonerate him. Nobody cared he was framed, all they cared about was how things look
ed and the truth didn’t matter. Thirty-five years was eaten away and he threw in the towel. He didn’t want his family to undergo any further media scrutiny or face prosecution for corruption, that’s not how he wanted to end his formerly stellar career. He was tainted, there would always be that question mark concerning his integrity which is what hurt the most.

A good cop,
ousted.

A criminal
had won.

Checkmate.

What could he do? To appease the higher ups, he’d taken their offer which allowed him to resign and receive a full pension. Any illegal money in his bank accounts would become the property of the I.R.S. Of course, it wasn’t his anyway and he agreed.

The thing is, Alfonzo Diaz was more respected than a goddamn Deputy Commissioner and also feared.
He’s rumored to have friends in high places and Mr. Johnson believed it. The minute his resignation was signed and delivered, the media stopped harassing him and Internal Affairs and the D.A closed their investigation.

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to conclude, Alfonzo Diaz
orchestrated the entire thing. That’s what money and fear buys these days, people.

Ma
ybe, it was for the best, he thought as he climbed the stairs to prepare for the long flight to Italy. He couldn’t save Selange. The woman was entrenched in that life, but his daughter wasn’t, not yet. He swore to do everything in his power to rescue her from the negative influences. This was his golden opportunity and perhaps his last chance.