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“They might have others on the ground up here, too. If so, they might already know she survived.”
Luca was right. I was holding out hope that she’d inadvertently thwarted them by getting on the plane and flying off to safety. I was just so glad she hadn’t flew to Sicily because I would’ve been too late then and that was a scenario I didn’t even want to imagine.
“Call Sergio and Enzo in New York City and have them tail her from the airport. I want to know every place she goes... every person she talks to... and I want them to intervene if anything comes up.”
“Will do. I’ll see you at the hangar.”
Luca then hung up, and I raked my hand through my hair. I would finish what I started with the Catalanos, then I would go capture my girl. I’d bring her back to Napoli, kicking and screaming, if I had to. I just knew I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. We would be married per our previous plan, and she would spend the rest of her days and night with me. Flashes of us together entered my mind, and I froze them in time, then let them slowly play in my head like a slideshow. Her laugh... that smile... those whimpering mewls... the sass... that body... I remembered it all, and I refused to let them stay just memories forever etched in time. I wanted them, and more, and I always got what I wanted. I was Don Nazario Vaccaro, and Viviana Spataro was mine. It was the only title that mattered now, and the only one that would matter ever.
VIVIANA
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
I’d been in New York City for over a week. When I had first arrived, I had constantly spent the first few days watching over my shoulder. I had managed to get a reservation at the same hotel Donna and I had stayed in before, and even the same room. It was all a bit morbid when I really thought about what the hell I was doing. I didn’t just stay in the same place, but I had also repeated the activities we’d done in the places we’d gone, even though some of them were a lot different than I remembered. It was disturbing to be reliving what led up to the one of the worst moments of my life, especially knowing what would happen soon. In fact, everything would end for me tonight as it had for Donna over a decade ago.
I’d made a decision when on that trans-Atlantic flight, and it was one I intended to stick to. The mess I had made in Naples couldn’t be undone, so it was for the best that I leave this world on my own terms. Donna... Marcu... Angelo... Not a single one of them had been able to do the same, but I could. And, I would.
“It’s better this way,” I told myself as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t find the exact outfit I had worn that night, but the tank top and tennis skirt I was currently wearing was close enough. Just as I had done then, I pulled my long, thick locks of hair into a ponytail and grabbed my purse.
Tonight, I would ride one of those double-decker buses, and I even had a notebook and pen. When I’d left the hotel room that night, I had imagined sharing the city’s rich history with Donna, but I had no such illusions tonight. In my purse, I also had a razor, which I would use to slit my wrists as I bled out on the ground in the place where my best friend had likely taken her own last breath.
I’d spent several years in one life-or-death situation after another during my training with my Catalanos. There’d never truly been a fear because in the back of my mind, I knew they wouldn’t let me die. Even when I found myself in similar situations with Nazario, I had once thought the same with him. That last night proved otherwise because he threatened to take something from me that I wouldn’t part with. I let out a sarcastic laugh because the irony was the very thing I was trying to protect wasn’t even real. I lost everything over a fucking lie. It wouldn’t be able to hurt me much longer. Nothing would.
I forced myself to smile for what would likely be my very last time, then I grabbed my things and exited the room. We’d not wanted to stay in Times Square before, so as we’d done ten years earlier, I flagged down a taxi cab and took the short drive there instead. The skies had darkened considerably on the way there now that the sun had set for the night, and after paying for the ride, I stood on the sidewalk and looked at the bright lights of a city that never seemed to sleep.
Back then, I had been in awe, but now, I knew how everything would end. There were no more dreams of getting my medical degree, then joining Donna in places like this for vacation. I would take this fateful ride, pretend as if there was a life still worth living, until I returned to the actual scene of the crime, and ended this trip the same way my best friend had — dead.
I clearly remember taking the two-hour night tour. Donna was at a party, and she usually didn’t leave one until it was shut down. She was so vivacious and fun, while I’d been a wallflower who felt uncomfortable in places like that. My introverted ways had all but disappeared in the years that followed, but I no longer felt confident and brave. I was terrified. I knew my demise was coming, whether at Nazario’s hands or someone else’s. Vengeance had ruled my life for so long, and for once, I wanted to have a say in how it all ended. And I would.
“The night tour,” I told the ticket operator, then grabbed the small card handed to me.
As I’d done that night, I went to the top of the bus and sat in the very back row. I’d been glad then that I had because the tour guide would often point out things as the bus was passing by, so I was able to see and experience them in real time and not have to turn and crane my neck to see the city in passing. The bus quickly filled up with other passengers, but I ignored them and tugged out my notebook and pen.
As it had done the first time, the driver took us from Manhattan’s Midtown neighborhood into Greenwich Village and the Lower East Side before crossing the famed bridge that led us into Brooklyn. I tried to recreate the moment, but I couldn’t find the strength or desire to feign happiness I now knew I would never have. I still stupidly scribbled the places I’d wanted Donna to see before we would leave two days later, but the crushing weight in my chest grew heavier.
I mindlessly exited the bus and took a taxi cab back to the hotel as if I was on autopilot. When I was let out two blocks from the hotel, I didn’t bother walking as swiftly now as I did that night. I’d been scared, and the darkness of the neighborhood only increased those fears. There was no use in running scared now. I knew my life would end tonight, and while I wanted to be the one to snuff it out, I wouldn’t be opposed to someone else doing it. Maybe the sudden vision of someone jumping out from one of these darkened alleys and dragging me to my death was the reason the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms, and I stopped suddenly. Turning, I didn’t see anyone, although something was telling me someone was there.
I finally chalked it up to paranoia, but I heard something else that gave me pause. I spun around, again, but there was nothing or no one to be found until... a dark cat darted out in front of me and rushed across the street, and I clutched my chest.
“Stupid cat. You’re going to give someone a heart attack.”
I should’ve welcomed it, but I wanted to make it back to the alley where I could die in a spot of my choosing, and not on the sidewalk in a south port street. I shook my head, then finished my walk back to the hotel. I was on the side of the hotel, in between it and another building. The front was well lit, but the alley was dark, and it had a stench I knew was death, and not just Donna’s. Others had likely died in this same place whether it had been homeless freezing to death in the winter weather, or other unsuspecting tourists and residents.
“It’s finally time,” I told myself as I tried to force my feet to carry me further.
I closed my eyes and could still vividly remember the Italian sportscar. I remember a body and the damn vehicle speeding away as I tried to garner the courage to see who, and what, had been dumped so cruelly into the alleyway like trash. I knew how this story went, and I stepped inside of it as I had done that night. Curiosity had gotten the better of me then, but resignation did now.
There was no body tonight, or at least there wasn’t one yet. I knew someone would come across my lifeless frame sooner rather than later, but they wouldn’t experience the same soul-crushing pain I had when I had done the same. They wouldn’t find their best friend after she was brutally murdered, and they wouldn’t feel as if their life was over as I had. I sold my soul to revenge and allowed the devil to touch me in its name.
My skin always crawled whenever I would remember his gin-scented breath nearly choking me as he pumped his cock inside of me. Stefano would tell me how much he loved to fuck me... how he loved to watch me come. He’d never known that I used to picture his demise in the beginning until Nazario. Afterward, I would imagine it was his strong hands around my neck... his cock pushing inside of me... and most of all, I would imagine it was his promises of a future together that would make me shatter apart. The pain from the whip lashes and belts... the marks I bore for days afterward... the ache in my limbs that lingered for several hours, and sometimes days... I would imagine it was the man I had foolishly fallen in love with, and not the monster who’d torn all happiness from my world.
I stopped when I reached the spot where Donna had first been found. All the pleasure I had just remembered had come at the cost of my best friend’s life. If she had lived, I likely would’ve become a doctor, and if I wasn’t married to my career, I would’ve ended up with some nice guy who would boringly fuck me and cause me to have to get myself off afterward in the bathroom with a toy. Or, maybe I would’ve liked that life. I might’ve liked being fucked sweetly and gently, especially without the introduction to pain-laced orgasms I’d experienced.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing ever has,” I said aloud.
I knelt down and touched the cold ground. I stayed like that for several seconds before finally sitting down on my ass. I opened my purse and pushed the notebook from earlier aside. I was tempted to write something in it, but I hadn’t back then so I wouldn’t now. This wasn’t some fucking diary or memoir of my life. It was taking control of something for once and dying on my own terms. It wouldn’t be under some dirty knife of a doctor or some crazed bastard running me off of the road. It also wouldn’t be chained to some wheel or wall, or plunging to my death off the Vaccaro estate balcony.
I turned my thoughts away from myself and back to Donna. I had been to some of those same parties she had attended, and I knew what happened at them. I had taken Donna’s place, but instead of fighting Stefano off as she had tried to do, I cozied up to the monster. I could remember the times he would corner me and wrap his hand around my neck. He’d thrust the other into my top or under my skirt. I wouldn’t try to fight him off. I would stroke his cock through his pants, and sometimes even jack him off as he stood there. Stefano got off on exerting his will over others. He liked them to cower, but he also wanted some fight to their submission to his darker needs. Having trained and once been subjected to the same, if not worse, treatment by four equally dangerous men, I could take whatever Stefano threw at me. Sometimes, it would anger him, but it normally kept him hard for hours. He would then roughly fuck me wherever he wanted, and for however long, often enough to make my body give out. It was obviously not as strong as my will.
