Owning the Mafia Don

Crescendo



Proserpina

The man who had given us the directions was bundled into the car by Toth’s man, and we set off at a swift pace. I sat, clutching my hands, wringing them together.

Please, God, I prayed fervently, Please, let Lucien be safe.

For in my mind, I had no doubt whatsoever.

the old woman had Lucien in her clutches. The way she had looked at me, venom in her eyes when she heard my name, the vehemence of her reaction on overhearing the reason behind our asking questions; yes, I knew with all my heart that she had to be the one who had kept Lucien with herself for some reason in her crabbed, demented soul.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

I was going to beg, to plead, to do anything and everything in my power to bring my lover out of this horrible situation alive.

Schwartz glanced at her.

His love for her remained as steadfast as ever, as his eyes gently caressed her taut white features. The plump mouth appeared to be pink from her having bitten her lips and he longed to kiss her softly. In his heart, he knew he would never even come into the periphery of her vision as long as Lucien Delano remained alive. But the awe , the respect he had for the Boss who had put himself and his family too, on the line for having helped Schwartz, it was a debt he would carry to the grave.

He sighed and ran his slim, long fingers through his tousled blonde hair.

Scratching his stubbled jaw, he stared out of the window as the car hurtled along the icy roads, into the forest, and up the mountains.

Aiyana sat stoically, gazing ahead. her mind was racing. So this woman, that half-crazed, smelly old hag, she was the one who had probably kept Lucien Delano a prisoner. So what was Paval Rudenko’s role in this?

Ben Church had got back to her with speed.

Yes, Paval Rudenko had come under the radar of the CIA at one time. But as he remained within the ambit of the Church, he was untouchable.

He had been involved in some sex racket and had also been vaguely suspected of white slave trafficking, a field that had helped his brother become a millionaire. But the disturbing news that Ben Church had volunteered, made her tense.

Dmitri Rudenko had been accompanied by a nephew, a boy of about sixteen or seventeen, perhaps, when he had retired to the chalet on the mountains.

A boy who had been wounded, perhaps blinded by Lucien Delano as the two men had been fighting fiercely to kill each other,.

Another one, she thought grimly, another one of the Rudenkos to bring down. Would that vermin never stop crawling out of the woodwork?

Automatically, she glanced at Schwartz, who was looking like a lovelorn Romeo as he slid furtive, adoring glances at Proserpina. The young woman was utterly oblivious to his affection; she sat, wringing her hands together, biting her lip raw.

She shook her head mentally. The man was doomed. As long as the Boss was alive, Proserpina would not even notice that Schwartz existed except as a dear friend.

As for herself?

She cocked her head to one side and thought; I cannot have a man in my life who is so utterly besotted by another woman. Schwartz was a good lover, tender, caring, and gentle. But that was all. She realized with a pang, that she was also, in some way, averse to commitment. She had only had a few one-night stands with a couple of men after the death of her husband. Shrugging, she sat back and stared out, willing her entire being to be focused on this operation. What came after that, could be dealt with later.

*

A sudden exclamation from Toth’s man, the one who was in their car, a great blonde-haired giant, brought her out of her reverie. He spoke with difficulty in English,

“We are being followed.’

Schwartz swung his handsome blonde head around, his arm still along the seat, where Proserpina sat beside him, almost tucked into his body, and Aiyana on the other side of the small woman between them. Both Aiayana and Schwartz exchanged looks.

Proserpina turned to look at Schwartz piteously.

‘Please, James. ‘ she whispered, clutching his strong arm, turning her small, wan face to meet his gaze, ‘Please save Lucien.’

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Schwartz sighed harshly. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, and promise her the earth. But now he was getting anxious.

There were just too many odds stacked against them.

*

In the large brown car that followed the two cars ahead, Father Paval sat, his eyes on the vehicles ahead of them. He was going to take down Lucien Delano, once and for all. he looked back over his shoulder. Young Dusak, with the thin whiskers on his lean, youthful chin, his damaged eye hidden by a black eye patch, was leaning forward intently, his one good eye fixed on the cars ahead of them.

The monk smiled, a sinister grimace at the best of times.

Dusak had the look of the hunter who had set his eyes on his prey.

Unflinching, determined.

Father Paval smiled again, a look of satisfaction on his face. The men in the car with him watched him but said nothing.

*

Lucien

He was oblivious to the cold that enfolded them. His shirt, an old one, worn and faded, had been ripped down the front by the crazy old bat, Ivica. He stood, listening to her as she rambled, running to the back of the room.

One part of his brain processing the fact that Proserpina had indeed come for him. His chest swelled in pride.

His Woman. His little fighter had come for him…

And then he became aware of what Ivica was doing. She had pulled out her hunting rifle and was coming to him.

‘So, Stefan,’ she screamed, ‘If I cannot have you, do not think I will stand by and allow Her to have you, the Wh*re, the Sl*t who stole my husband.’

Gustav rose to his feet, screaming,

‘No, Ivica! Do not shoot him here! Not inside the house!’

She swung her thin head sharply, the iron-grey braids, thin and limp, swinging with the motion,

‘What do you mean?’ She cried, her lips drawing back, in a snarl.

‘The blood, there was too much in the house. Last time, it was difficult to clean. Don’t you remember?’ rambled the old fellow, trembling at her rage, wringing his hands, falling on his knees.

She stopped as Lucien stood, his heart pounding. His fists were bunched, muscles coiled but he waited, seeking an opportunity to overpower the woman who, unfortunately, was aiming the gun at him.

‘You are right, old man,’ she murmured, nodding her head in agreement, musing,

‘The last time, the smell of blood was suffocating in here.’

She indicated the heavy lock on the chain with the gun.

‘Open it. We will take him outside and shoot him.’ Her lips curled in a devilish grin.

‘Nature will take care of your body, Stefan. I will throw you back into the water, where you belong.’

Lucien took a step forward furiously, and she raised her gun, aiming it at his chest, trembling with passion.

But before Lucien could react, Gustav attacked him.

All the pent-up rage he felt towards Ivica, towards Lucien for having terrorized him so thoroughly, came out in a rush, lending superhuman strength to his puny arms.

Gustav raised his thin arms and brought his weapon down: He hit the big man on the back of his head with the large stone he kept for sharpening his knives.

With a groan, Lucien Delano sank to the floor, unconscious, even as the old man behind him grinned in evil satisfaction.


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