Summer Kisses (210 page)

Bobby lay his head back down. “Luigi must’ve been conscious, faking he was out. He snatched my gun and shot me while I was trying to tie him up.”

“Thank God you still had on your vest.”

“And thank God he didn’t take time to kill me. Wouldn’t have been nothing to pop me in the head.”

“He just wanted to get away. Murder’s not on his mind. At least not yours. I bet he’s pretty pissed with the Mafia princess.”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, I hope Dave can save her. Call him, hope this doesn’t ruin everything.”

Gregg grimaced. “Yeah, you’re right.” He picked up his phone again.

~~~

“Hurry, wash up,” Sandro urged Marisa when they were back in the hotel room. “Frankie will be here any minute.” She had dirt and grease on her hands from planting the bomb under Carlo’s car. Fortunately, no dirt showed up on her black clothes. There was no time to change.

A knock on the door. Sandro literally breathed a sigh of relief which almost made Marisa smile. They had been lucky to have timed it so well.

Sandro opened the door.

Frankie’s arm was in a sling, and Marisa marveled he was moving around after being shot earlier in the day. It wasn’t his wound that concerned her though. His face was clearly lined with worry, not pain. His eyes looked grim.

“What’s wrong?” Sandro asked before she could.

Frankie stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Bad news.”

“More bad news?” Marisa asked, her shoulders slumping. She couldn’t help it, she felt so tired.

“Luigi’s escaped.”

Marisa heard her heartbeat thudding in her ears, a loud boom, boom, boom. “How?” she managed to ask over the noise.

“Apparently he regained consciousness, but he pretended to still be out . . .” Frankie went on to explain what happen and concluded, “Now, our whole operation’s screwed. If Luigi contacts Carlo and tells him about Marisa–”

“How long ago did he escape?” Sandro questioned.

Frankie shrugged. “Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes ago. They found a man, a gang banger, who’d been shot outside the hotel. His friend said Luigi stole their car.”

Sandro and Marisa looked at each other. They knew that about that time, Carlo was just leaving his club. There had been no sign of Luigi, but the
consigliere
could have reached his boss by phone. However, if that had been the case, then surely Carlo would have left with more men than Massimo.

“Do you know if Luigi made contact with Carlo?” Marisa demanded.

“Dave had Tony go over the club tapes for the last few minutes. Luigi called, but Carlo had already left. Still, he can reach Carlo on his cell phone. We have to assume that’s what he’s done.”

“No,” Marisa said, feeling slightly more calm at the information.

Both men turned to look at her.

“My father has a strict rule. No phone calls in the car. No business in the car, period. He knows his car is wired.

“If Luigi missed him at the club, the only way he’ll be able to make contact with my father is if he catches up to him or discovers the meeting place.”

“The man he spoke to didn’t know where Carlo was going, but then Luigi asked about Angie. The other man told Luigi that Angie was at the first warehouse, whatever that means.” Frankie said, then looked at Marisa.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how they label the warehouses among themselves. There are so many.”

Frankie sighed. “All we can do is go ahead with the plans and be extra cautious. We have back up, and all of us will have to be ready for anything. If you say that Carlo won’t answer calls in his car, though, that’s a good thing. Unless Luigi does catch up with him . . .”

~~~

Silence. Complete silence reigned in Carlo’s stretch limousine. She’d been given a strict warning not to talk, but even without it, no one would have said anything at the risk of getting his head snapped off. Earlier, Carlo had been royally pissed about his
consigliere
gone missing, spouting threats and promises to murder when they stopped by the warehouse to gather Nia and her son. Nia hoped the missing man was helping Marisa and Sandro.

She sat in the rear-facing seat holding Daniele in her lap. Angie was driving, Carlo sat across from her, and Massimo sat beside her with his arm around her shoulder. She’d tried to scoot away, but he dug his fingers into her skin, holding her in place. So now she concentrated on making herself as small as possible. Still, every once in a while, he slid his hand beneath the coat that Angie had provided her, and pinched her nipple.

Knowing it would be useless to protest, she deliberately ignored him, watching the road disappear beyond the glow of the taillights.

Fortunately, Daniele went back to sleep, which left Nia to reflect on what Angie had told her earlier about Carlo, and what was about to happen. In less than two hours she would be reunited with her husband. Apparently Sandro had something valuable and Carlo was willing to trade.

Or else it could be an elaborate ruse, the mobsters could have agreed to the meeting in order to spring a trap, and in less than two hours, she could be dead.

She squeezed Daniele and kissed his curls.

Headlights turned onto the gravel road. A light snow fell, more of an irritation than a hindrance.

“Everybody ready?” Dave whispered into his walkie-talkie. His muscles tensed. Adrenaline poured through his veins. This had to work. Had to.

“Ready, boss.”

Men scattered all over the property, hidden in sight of the old three story farm house. Dave didn’t intend on letting Carlo walk off unless he was being led away with a set of cuffs on him. With the information Sandro and Marisa could provide, Dave planned to lock up the murdering mob boss for a long, long time.

“Showtime.” Dave slipped his walkie-talkie into his coat pocket.

Sandro took a high-powered rifle from the back seat of the car he’d arrived in. He propped it carefully against a nearby tree.

“I’ve got sharpshooters ready,” Dave reminded him.

“They won’t shoot to kill. I will.”

Dave shook his head. “Sandro, if it’s unprovoked–”

“I know. You’ll arrest me. But I’m not standing by to wait while you attempt to rescue my wife and child.”

Hoping Sandro didn’t screw everything up, Dave turned his attention to the approaching vehicle, his mouth set in a firm line.

The car slowed to a stop less than a hundred yards away. The headlights stayed on, although a faint orange light glowed dimly through the snow clouds. It would soon be sunrise.

The driver’s door, and the back two doors on the same side, opened. Angie climbed out of the driver’s side, while Carlo exited the back rear door. He held a notebook computer in his hands.

Sandro, taking two steps toward the car, watched it all with as stoic of an expression as he could manage.

Massimo climbed out from the other rear door, then leaned inside. When Nia slid out with a sleeping Daniele in her arms, Sandro’s heart constricted so much he could barely draw a breath. His cherished wife. His precious son. His life would not be worth living without them.

Sandro gritted his teeth and stayed focused.

As soon as Nia was out of the car, she jerked free from Massimo. Sandro frowned. Obviously his wife did not like Carlo’s son. Sandro intended to get her away from the man as soon as possible.

Stepping forward three more steps, Sandro held his hands wide and called to Carlo. “How do you want to do this?”

“I want the account information first. I brought a laptop so I can check.” Carlo held up the computer. “I will send your son.”

Carlo nodded at Massimo who reached to take Daniele from Nia’s arms.

She jerked away, exchanging heated words with Massimo. She refused to release Daniele. Sandro tightened his lips. He knew in his gut that Massimo had somehow earned Nia’s wrath. Sandro squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what Massimo might have done. Not now. If Nia had been harmed, it was all Sandro’s fault, he knew. And he would have to make it up to her.

When he opened his eyes again, Angie had walked around the car and was reaching for Daniele. Nia turned the child over to the older man who gently cradled the sleeping boy and walked toward Sandro.

It took less than two minutes to cover the halfway mark at fifty yards, yet time dragged out with every agonizing step. Finally, Sandro reached Angie. He held out a flash drive to Angie. Angie passed Daniele to Sandro.

Sandro hugged his sleeping son. “
Grazie Dio
,” he whispered.

Daniele woke up. “Poppa?”

“
Si, bambino
. It is Poppa.” Sandro’s throat clogged.

Grabbing his neck, Daniele squeezed tight. Sandro held on and planted kisses on his son’s head and face. Tears leaked from Sandro’s eyes.

“Momma?” Daniele asked, looking around.

“Momma will be here soon,” Sandro promised, blinking hard. He met Angie’s gaze, noting the big man looked relieved. “The password is Princess,” Sandro told Angie, then turned to take Daniele to safety while Angie returned to Carlo.

Sandro stopped beside Frankie. “This is Frankie,” he told his son. “You must stay with him while I get momma. Frankie will keep you safe.”

Sandro tried to set Daniele down, but his son clung to his neck. “
Bambino
, you must let me go,” he spoke in Italian. “I cannot get momma unless you wait here.”

Daniele’s grip loosened slightly.

Frankie spoke to him in Italian. “Come, Daniele, we will watch over here by this tree while your poppa gets your momma.”

Reluctantly Daniele let go and went to Frankie. He was fascinated by Frankie’s arm sling. “Arm hurt,” he said.

“Yes, my arm is hurt.”

Surprisingly, Daniele leaned over and kissed the bandaged arm. Sandro swallowed down the emotion. His son was safe, and he was grateful. But he mustn’t let that make him careless. He still had to free his wife. This part could get tricky.

He walked up to wait beside Dave and Marisa. Carlo, holding a flashlight in his mouth, was typing on his computer. He nodded and said something to Angie, who stood beside Nia. Carlo turned to Sandro’s small group. “It all seems in order. I will send your wife now. Bring my daughter.”

Beside him, Sandro heard Marisa sigh.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” Dave said.

She looked up at him, but didn’t speak.

Sandro took her arm and led her away. “When you get close,” Sandro told her, “if I signal to you, I want you to grab Nia and pull her to the ground. I have my gun ready.” He patted his jacket. “If I think I can take them out without anyone getting hurt, I will. If there’s not a chance, I’ll use my rifle when I get back. Make sure you stay out of the way.”

“Dave will arrest you.”

“I know. I hope a jury sees this as self-defense. You know as well as I do, that Carlo will never let me live.”

“Dave plans to arrest my father.”

“Like that would stop Carlo. He’d just put out another contract on me.”

“I know. Kill him. I will testify for you.”

Sandro squeezed her arms. “
Grazie
. Just be sure to stay down so you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded and Sandro took a breath. His heart leapt up to his throat. He knew if he managed to kill Carlo, that a very long and high-profile trial awaited him. Yet it would be worth it because his wife and son would be safe.

They started forward. Step after step after step drawing closer to life. Or death. Sandro kept his eyes on Nia, his heart thundering in his ears. The snow fell harder. The cold wind bit through his thick coat. Time crawled by one agonizing step at a time.

Suddenly, another pair of headlights swung onto the gravel road. Everyone stopped and watched. Sandro squinted through the increasingly heavy snowfall.

The car slammed to a stop, throwing up gravel from beneath the wheels. Four men jumped out of the car, armed with semi-automatics.

Luigi popped out of the driver’s side and shouted. “Stop! The bitch’s a traitor. It’s a set up.”

“
Merda
,” Marisa swore.

“Back to Dave,” Sandro commanded and dropped to his knees, his Browning hi-powered pistol already drawn. Before he could fire, he watched in amazement as Luigi crumpled by the car. Quickly, he scanned the area and saw Angie with a gun in his hand. Angie had killed Luigi. Why? Was he on their side?

Sandro didn’t have time to ponder longer as gunshots exploded through the early morning. Angie whirled and shoved at Nia, urging her to run. He was running after her. Sandro automatically squeezed off rounds for cover. At such a distance, it was hard for his shots to be accurate with only a handgun. He needed his rifle.

“Sandro.” He turned and Dave tossed him the rifle. “Move, men, move,” Dave screamed into his walkie-talkie, his own gun drawn.

Sandro whirled back and aimed his rifle. Too late. A shot hit Angie in the back and he fell to his knees. Sandro watched in horror as Nia stopped to help the fallen mobster.

“Nia!” he yelled. “Get down.”

The noise was horrific. She obviously couldn’t hear him. She tugged at Angie trying to help him to his feet, but it was obvious the man was telling her to run and save herself. She kept tugging, but Angie took another hit and fell forward out of her grasp.

She screamed and stared in horror. Sandro aimed and killed the man who had shot Angie. “Get down,” he shouted again at his wife. Still, she stood staring at Angie’s fallen body.

She must be in shock, Sandro thought, springing to his feet, running toward her. He stopped long enough to squeeze off another round from his rifle, and another mobster fell to the ground.

He was almost to her when she finally started running.

She was running. Running as if demons from hell were nipping at her feet. She knew if she fell, she was dead. Hurry. Her heart hammered frantically against her ribcage. Her breath labored through her lungs. Move, feet.

Move, move, move.

Safety was close. Just a little further. She had to make it.

Gunshots exploded around her. The noise was deafening.

Instinctively, she ducked, and urged her churning legs to greater speed.