Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

Schwartz was the one who suggested that we should ask about in the local areas. He wanted to accompany me but I firmly insisted that he should rest a while more.

‘” Dear James,’ I said, kissing his cheek, ‘You are my very best friend and I would trust you with my life a million times over. ‘Then, straightening up, I smiled and went on,

‘But for that, I need you alive and intact.’

His eyes held a faraway, wistful look but he roared with laughter and held my hand, giving it a small squeeze before nodding.

‘Go ahead, then, little lady.’

And turning to Phillippe who stood, hands in his jean pocket, he added,

‘I trust this young man. He will take care of you.’

The young boy immediately thrust his chest out, glowing, feeling self-important.

I giggled.

” Seriously, James! I am old enough to look after myself!’

But his eyes were grave as he said,

‘Take care.’

As I turned to bid Aiyana goodbye, she tugged on a formal, no-nonsense coat.

“I’m going with them.’ She said briskly and led the way out. I turned to look at Schwartz who looked as surprised by this as everyone else. Phillippe gave a sigh and preceded me out of the room.

*

We drove into the small village on the outskirts of the picturesque town of Kosice. This was the last place that Lucien had been at before heading for the mountains which towered in the background.

Gazing up at the snow-covered peaks that shimmered in the sunlight, I felt a pang of fear.

How could I hope to find my love here, in this remote, cold foreign country?

Aiyana had given her ideas on how we should launch a discreet search and I agreed with her. It would be best, she had pointed out, to begin by asking the people in the village.

We needed to be circumspect, she had warned. People would naturally enough, be suspicious of strangers. And I stood out with my dark hair and brown eyes,

*

Now that Dmitri was dead and his men had left the village, it would be safe to move about and to ask. Siek Toth had assured me that Dmitri Rudenko was well and truly dead; his body had been found, dashed against the rocks, his face mutilated, but his identity had been established because of the signet ring he always wore. As for Lucien, Toth had reluctantly agreed that no single body remotely resembling that of my burly Mafia Don had washed up on the river banks.

Armed with a sliver of hope, I set off.

*

I had spoken to Rachel and Danielle earlier in the day. Both women had asserted, separately, of course, that they would take care of the children.

Beatrice, who I called next, was a little worried since little Tara was having ‘a bit of a sniff’ she said.

I sighed and stood, holding the phone, trying not to worry. If one of the little ones felt sick, inevitably, so would the others. And I was too far away to be of any help.

I began to question my decision to pack up and run to search for Lucien.

Had I done the wrong thing?

Or had I reacted like a fool, trusting my intuition?

Was my husband no more?

But even as I stood, waving, feeling on the brink of bursting into tears, Aiyana appeared. She looked at my face.

“What is it?’ she asked, mildly curious.

I smiled and turned away.

No matter how friendly I tried to be, there was always a barrier about her that made me resist from opening up and sharing my thoughts and feelings with her.

“Nothing. just a call from home…’ And then, briskly, I said.

“Let us go on.’

*

When we reached the small square, I got down from the vehicle and stood, admiring the quaint surroundings. The Gregorian Square was a quiet, almost private place encircled by ancient historical buildings. Dominated by a beautiful church that had stood there for centuries, the people of the little village scurried about their work, braving the cold, probably, I thought ruefully, used to it. Some of the women were dressed in traditional clothes although there were also younger women in dark coats and boots, striding along confidently. The men, likewise, were in either the comfortable traditional outfits or bundled in coats.

Barely anyone spared a glance at us.

We moved about, Toth’s men always accompanying us to help translate our requests.

There was a small fountain in the centre of the Square, benches placed about conveniently and even as my eyes wandered around, I noticed people sitting and chatting. I smiled. Old world charm in a town that seemed straight out of a picture book.

But by the end of the day, I was weary and disheartened. The local people were either bluntly hostile or they were indifferent.

No, came the universal answer, No one had seen or heard of a man whose body had been washed up by the river.

I sighed and Phillippe put his hand on my arm.

“Madre.’ He said gently,’ We will keep trying.’

My lower lip threatened to wobble dangerously but I nodded and avoided meeting his keen eyes.

*

Danger…

The group was unaware of a man watching from one of the houses that lined the street as the large black sedans roared away down the street, back to Kosice. He stood back to prevent anyone from the speeding vehicles from noticing him. But he had seen and heard enough. His spies in the village had also informed him the moment news of the search party had spread.

The man turned to a youth who lay on the narrow bed in the small room, groaning. His head was covered in a bandage but the doctors had been clear. He had lost his eye after the brutal attack by a knuckle duster that had all but gouged out his left eye.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

‘They have come to search for Lucien Delano,’ said the man ominously. He was a large figure in the brown robes of a priest. The youth on the bed gave a howl of rage and pushing aside the slim woman who was bending over him, he screamed,

‘Out of the way, wh*re!’

He made it to the window just in time to see the tail end of the last dark car as it turned the corner and headed up the road to the town.

‘I will kill him if he is not already dead!’ snarled Dusak.

*

Lucien

“Old man!’ he called, the command in his voice sufficient enough to make the older man turn around in fear.

‘I cannot help you.’ He stammered, raising his bony wrists in fear.

“I know that.’ Snapped Lucien,’ Tell me, who is that woman? Why has she captured me?’

The bony old fellow folded himself into a squatting position on the ground, watching Lucien with unblinking eyes. Satisfied that he was far enough and not likely to be attacked, he said in a slow, monotonous whisper.

“She is my daughter-in-law,’ and added with a sigh,’ Ivica. But she insists that I say she is my daughter.’

Lucien sat, watching the old face.

“My son Stefan married her. Stefan was a cheerful boy, happy but lazy.’

He sighed.

‘ This was my house.’ He looked about himself, scratching his head sadly.

‘But she made him sign it over to her. Now it is hers.’

Again the sigh but a bitter one that time and the watery eyes stared past him as he went on.

“My son, he loved to enjoy himself, to drink, to dance. Ivica wanted none of that. She wanted him for herself. Only for herself.’

Once more, he sighed. He lowered his head and mumbled.

“My son found another woman. He ran away.’ The old man looked up, tears in his watery, rheumy old eyes as he said,

” Stefan left me with Her.’

Now he was weeping hard. Lucien looked out at the woods where he could make out the darkness falling like a menacing shroud over the world.

*

Proserpina

On our way back, for although it was only four in the evening, the skies were darkening ominously, Aiyana suggested that we visit the gorge where Lucien and Dmitri had last been fighting. But Siek Toth’s man, a beefy bald man named Cenek, stopped us. Fixing her with his cold, penetrating gaze, he spoke in a guttural voice.

“No go now. Dark and dangerous.’

Aiyana looked like she wanted to argue but it was Phillippe who said,

‘He is right, Madre. When we go there, it has to be in the daylight.’

Seeing the wisdom of the suggestion, I agreed, gently pushing Aiyana away.

*

Lucien

Any minute now, the woman would emerge, he thought trying to formulate some way out.

Then he realized that the old man was still talking to him.

It took him a while to understand what the old man was mumbling.

“What did you say?’ he snapped, turning to him,’ Speak up, old man!’

‘She has a gun. She has already killed two men who she imagined…’ said the old man, almost muttering, studiously avoiding the enraged look on the Mafia Don’s face.

Lucien felt his spine go rigid.

“What?’ he growled.

‘A man had come this way earlier. And another, last month. You are not the first…’ said the old man, his eyes darting around the room in fear.

“Where are they?’ said Lucien coldly, although he knew what was coming.

‘She shot them. They tried to escape. She killed them and buried them.’

He jerked his chin in the direction of the door,

“There. In the woods.’