Mercenary (Gangsters of New York #3) - Bella Di Corte Page 0,27

he made another move that took my piece. “They did not know how to get in touch with me, and Tito has been more active than usual. Luca has a son only a few members of the family were aware of. It has been a busy time—after Marzio was killed, the Faustis have been at war from within.”

He studied the board for another minute and then studied my face, trying to read my next move. “Lothario is acting as the head, as you must know, and it is harder to reach him. He does not make himself as available as Marzio did. He is more selective about who he will help. There have been complaints. He is not his father.”

“No,” I said. “None of us are.”

“Infatti,” he said, “but if we appoint ourselves to such a high position, we must either meet the men we respect, or exceed their power. We must become them or better.”

Yeah, that was the fucking truth all right.

Tito came toward us, his oversized hat in his hands. He stopped next to the table, staring at it for a minute, and then gave me a narrow look. “Time waits for no man, not even you,” he said, and then he knocked my winning piece over with a flick of his bony finger.

He stormed off, the smell of medicine following him. I would always associate that smell with him.

“What the fuck is wrong with Dr. Salad—I mean, Sala?” Adriano stared after him. “I wonder if he can get me some watermelon?”

I picked my winning piece up, holding it in my hand, studying it. The pieces were crystal, the board black and white. The light of the moon went straight through it. When I looked up, Nicodemo was staring in the direction the good doctor had taken. Even though his attention was focused elsewhere, I knew he’d hear me when I spoke.

“If I had decided the information worth my death was worth sacrificing her life—”

“—this would be a one-player game,” he said, turning his eyes to mine. There was no emotion there, only the reality of the life we chose to live. Cugini or not, it would have been a war between us, and one of us would be dead. We chose our paths, and that was that. It was what it was, however it ended.

I nodded, agreeing. I’d kill any motherfucker who came after mine now—Alcina Parisi. Including him, if he made the wrong move.

His grin came slow—some said it was the grin of a man who had just gotten vengeance. “What can I say? I like the ones who come out to play when the moon is full.”

Yeah, he would. Crazy motherfucker.

Emilia once told me that when I couldn’t sleep, it meant that I was awake in someone else’s dreams. But Emilia had wild ways, and she told me more than once that Luna had been wilder than her.

I wondered if that was why, when the moon was full, madness seem to run through my blood at a quicker speed. I would concede to that one thing, because usually when the moon was full, something more than blood seemed to draw me out, but no more.

My grandfather was practical. Businesslike. Rooted in reality. He had created the bigger parts of me, and Emilia hated to admit it.

And the other one?

Corrado Palermo.

Fuck. Him.

He never claimed me. I’d be damned if I ever claimed a piece of him. He was lower than whale shit, and there was no going any lower than that.

I refused to even think of him, or anything else belonging to that world, letting a familiar path direct my quiet footsteps. I had only been in Bronte a short time, and already this direction had burned itself into my memory. Even without the moon, I didn’t need light to see by. I could find my ending destination in my sleep.

Her.

Her tiny casa was hidden deep in the property. Nothing else was around but cats, trees and shrubs. Mount Etna stood directly across, and it made the stone casa seem so little in comparison. The moon hung over the mount, perfectly round and golden.

More cats seemed to be out tonight, probably sensing the insanity in the air caused by the full moon. I would have blamed my madness on it, but I’d done this before, many times since I’d arrived—found her casa and sat on an overturned bucket outside of it.

Her casa was hidden in the trees, but there was a straight path to her place