Mercenary (Gangsters of New York #3) - Bella Di Corte Page 0,14
color. Red. It was time to bleed them fucking dry.
The urge to find Alcina was so strong that I could taste it in my mouth, like the cool water Tito gave us to drink on our lunch break.
Tito stood next to Adriano, Nunzio, and me, surveying the land under the shade of his wide-brimmed cap. We were working in a more secluded location, and I wondered if it was because Tito requested it—keeping me hidden but not.
“It is wondrous how Mother Nature works.” He nodded to Mount Etna, smoke billowing out against the blue sky from its tip. “You have such a disruptive force—bigger than this entire town—yet it still gives us the best of what it is. Look at the fruit it offers.”
Adriano wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Is this all we get to eat?” He lifted the basket that Tito had brought out with cheeses, crackers, meats, and fruits. He was sprawled out on the ground, half sitting, half lying down. His cheeks were red, and nothing was coming out of his pores but sweat now.
Nunzio nodded toward the volcano, ignoring Adriano. “A volcano reminds me of an Italian woman,” he said. “Fire in her veins, but even after she scalds you with her temper, she feeds you the best.”
Tito smiled. “I would have to agree.”
“A woman kicks me in the balls and then feeds me grapes after in bed as an apology.” Adriano lifted a bunch of them, taking the bottom one in his mouth. “I’d accept it.”
I grinned at the face Nunzio made. Then I took off the long-sleeved shirt I wore over my t-shirt, balling it up, using it as a pillow. I set my hands behind my head as an extra layer, closing my eyes. I fell asleep with the sun hot on my face. A few minutes later, I woke up to the sound of a long, low whistle from Adriano. I followed the sound until I met the cause of it.
A few women walked toward us with a group of children around them.
“I’d give up pasta to be with any of those women alone,” Adriano said, sitting up on his elbows, watching as they walked closer.
“That’s not a woman,” I said, staring at one in particular. “That’s a fucking weapon.”
She was holding hands with a little girl she’d called Calogera. Most of the woman’s long, dark brown hair was behind a scarf, but small tendrils fell from the sides, skimming her neck, where I imagined the pulse of her artery would pound against my mouth when I put it there.
The wind blew against her, rustling the dress on her body, and it sent a sweet scent in the air around me. The dress reminded me of the ones Angela usually wore, but it hugged every one of this woman’s curves. The cross she wore around her neck caught the bright light and glowed gold against her tan skin.
Even in the old-style dress, she hit all the right notes.
I was Orlando Furioso when I looked at her. The sway of those hips—I licked my lips, and I could taste lemon and chocolate.
It wasn’t even her face or body that was the weapon. It was those cat-shaped eyes, dark and full of secrets, that were dangerous. As unpredictable as any man I’d ever stood against.
When she was close enough and turned them on me, she stopped, even though the little girl kept pulling on her hand to keep walking. On one rough tug, she went, following the group of women who had walked ahead.
Nunzio nudged me. He nudged me again.
“She is taken,” I heard Tito say in Italian. Laughter after he’d said it. Someone said the word moonstruck. And then, “cugino sei cotto.” Cousin, you’re cooked.
She looked over her shoulder at me before she turned away again, moving further and further away, going deeper into the orchard.
“Her name,” I said.
“Angelica,” Nicodemo said, appearing beside me.
I grinned at that but said nothing.
The woman had dropped a glove she’d been carrying between the rows of pistachio trees. I picked it up, and the closer I came to her, the better I could smell her in the air. The scent of her would forever be tattooed on my memory—more permanent than the ink on my skin.
“Signora,” I called out, my voice low but still loud enough to hear.
She stopped but didn’t turn. The girl, Calogera, stuck her tongue out at me. I did the same. She laughed a little, and I grinned.