17. BREAKDOWN
GIOELE
Fuck. Fuck-fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing right now. What the hell just happened? Did I just lose my shit?
Tatiana’s with me. She’s stroking the hair away from my face. My eyes keep running and running and running. I’m gasping for air again. Gasping.
“Here.” Isaias hands me whiskey from his half-prone position on the couch. I can’t accept it, because my hands are shaking so hard.
“Babe, I’ll take it.” Tatiana drops the wet cloth she’s used on my forehead. She’s been cleaning me up, saying I’m drenched in blood and soot. She tips the whiskey toward my mouth. What they don’t get is that I need oxygen.
I gulp down a few sips anyway, and when I start to cough, Moroder snickers. The bastard’s here, whole and safe.
“Where the fuck were you?” I manage between coughs. “I thought you were in charge of the bunker. What the hell happened?”
His smile dries up. “Let’s just say we were having problems at the port.”
“Where’s my goddamn father?”
“Busy burning Santa Colombinis.” He tosses a piece of cheese into his mouth and chews without taking his eyes off me. “You’re a bit soft for being Il Lince’s heir. Needs some work, I’d say.”
We’re at Tatiana’s old apartment in Santa Monica. It’s in a tight little neighborhood, right where the city meets Venice Beach. Isaias calls it their makeshift safe house. He claims you can hide in plain sight here, that the area is unassuming thanks to its over-population. The only issue is to find an inconspicuous place for the cars.
I don’t know where we parked. As soon as I learned that Isaias was okay, I started shaking in the car. When Tatiana told me, in the most serene voice imaginable, that Ma and Gabriela were already at the apartment, my stomach revolted too. I threw up into an old McDonald’s bag, while Fritz launched a tirade of German cusswords.
The morning sun lifts over the waves. It’d have been an awesome sight if it weren’t for my chest having been ripped open. The wound in my shoulder feels much better after a few stitches. All I needed after that was Ibuprofen. Just, wouldn’t it be nice if it could fix hearts too?
Silvina is gone. Kidnapped. Ripped away. We have no real leads. She could be any-fucking-where. Is she alive? Being tortured somewhere while we rest up in safety? Is she… No. She can’t be dead. Not my Silvina, the girl with gold in her eyes and a mouth made of raspberries. She can’t be.
“Are the girls asleep?” I clear my throat of the burn of whiskey. Tatiana helps me to my feet. I can’t seem to get steady though, so she props me up on the couch next to my brother.
“We gave Gabriela something to sleep on,” she says. “They’re all upstairs.”
“As in?” I need their names repeated. “Everyone?”
Isaias calls Tatiana his ice queen. She has an unearthly sort of beauty, with a calm expression that doesn’t easily shift. I can see how he fell for her, so different to our fiery temperament. Especially when she is the way she is today, with her ice façade cracking, showing tenderness and compassion beneath it.
“Yes,” she says. “Ariadna, Gabriela, your mother, and even your aunt and the twins, are passed out in Isaias’ and my bed.” She shares a smile with Isaias before returning to me. “I believe there’s some snoring going down in there. We even mixed a little whiskey into Ariadna’s warm milk.”
“You’re terrible parents. Now you’re going to corrupt another little one?” I sink my eyes down to her flat stomach, and if stares could kill, hers definitely would when she whips it to Isaias.
I feel a little lighter inside when my brother shows his palms to her. The ruler of his kingdom, the one everyone calls “sir,” whether they’re thugs, mafia kings, or employees. Look at him now.
“Baby, I can explain,” he begins, and I almost smile. Tatiana’s beautiful ice stare returns to me.
“Well, at least Gioele’s having fun. Glad we could entertain you.” She leans forward and fixes me with her eyes. “However, keep one thing in mind, little brother; it’s early. I’m only weeks pregnant, and we just learned of it ourselves. You’ll be in a lo-ot of trouble if I hear a word of it from anyone else.”
“Honey, Gioele would never!”
I bite down on my growing amusement; Isaias looks like he’s sure he’ll never get laid again.
“Eh-eh-eh!” Tatiana stops him with the palm of her hand held high. “I need him to promise that, because clearly you can’t be trusted.” Twisting back toward me, she gives me a small wink.
“Yes, Ma’am. I promise. There will be no sharing of baby news until you’re ready.”
“Who’s having a baby?” In the door leading to the hallway stands Ma. It’s six in the morning, and like the rest of us, she’s had a black night. Grief darkens her eyes, from the news of Zio Cosimo’s death and the uncertainty of Il Lince’s whereabouts. But hope’s growing in them too, and the combination is making her gaze glitter.
“Mrs. di Nascimbeni,” Tatiana begins, twisting her hands in front of her. “We’re not sure how wise it is to— It’s so early.”
Behind me, Isaias looks away, face in studiously discreet folds.
“Are you saying I’m finally becoming a grandmother again?”
“Say something!” Tatiana hisses to my brother.
“Ma…” he begins, but the single word ends with a clearing of his throat.
“Mrs. di Nascimbeni— We…” I’ve never heard Tatiana struggle with words before. “I just— So much can still happen. We don’t really know yet if— You know…”
“Ah, Dio mio, che felicità on such a horrific day! I’m going to have another grandchild!”
There’s nothing more heart-wrenching than our women grieving their dead.
I got a few hours of rest on the floor of the dining room. Tatiana and Isaias slept entwined on the couch, and Ma went back upstairs after her moment of joy early this morning.
But now, it’s nine a.m., and the house is heavy with mourning. Zia Paula and Gabriela have dissolved in it. Zio Cosimo is still in the van. Bully took them to him, and Zia Paula rocked him in her arms. If it weren’t for Moroder all but carrying her back inside, she would never have let go of him.
Il Lince’s on his way. He’s not happy with the state of affairs. My uncle was his brother, always there, both in business and in famiglia. My father is no peacemaker. He’s going to rip every house apart, kill everything in his path until Randolfo Santa Colombini is dead.
All I want is to get Silvina back.
I find my oldest cousin in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make Italian wedding cookies from scratch. Tears dripping into the bowl, she stirs and stirs. One of her hands is bandaged. I haven’t asked her if they took her nails or more yet. It seems small in comparison to everything else.
“Gabi.” When did she become so little? Is it just the curve of her back? I take her in my arms, giving her of my strength. “I’m going to find Silvina. Okay?”
She nods but doesn’t look up. Those tears, they kill me. They drip, drip, and drip.
“Per favore,” I whisper. “Believe in me.”
“I do, Gioele. If anyone can get her back, it’s you.”
I wish I knew where to start, cugina.
Gabi pulls in a breath. Then, her eyes slide up to meet mine. “Isaias and I have a bond that’s so strong, they used to tease us about acting like twins. You know?”
“I know.”
“But Silvina and yours is stronger.”
I swallow my pain, my fear, my need.
“She could be anywhere. We have no idea where, so use your bond. Find her station and tune in on it. Bring her back home to us.” She covers her hiccough with the palm of her hand. Then, she pulls out of my arms and turns back to her cookie dough. Stirring, stirring, stirring.
The hours snake by too slowly. Il Lince returned. Debriefing. Rage. Hate. None of it brings back the heart I got ripped out last night. She’s gone, and all they talk about is revenge.
Tatiana finds me outside. She sits down next to me on the stoop in the back alley. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
I lean back so far I can see the sky. “What do you mean? I’m pissed.”
“Right. I mean about Silvina. Any thoughts? Plans?”
My brother trusts Tatiana fully, and that’s a luxury an outsider doesn’t easily acquire from our famiglia. Isaias is no exception, so I slouch on my elbows and face her. The gunshot wound flares hot in my shoulder at the shift. It’s a reminder I welcome; at least, I didn’t get away completely scot-free.
“You want to know what I think?”
“I do.”
“But first: you have any theories of your own?”
“I might. Give me your best shot, and I’ll give you mine.”
Rolling, I hike up on the hip of my good side. “All right. You’ve probably heard Gabriela’s report of what happened to her. This John person. Him talking about me and a job I auditioned for at Harmony Femme.”
“Yes.”
“There could be any number of Johns out there, but I beat up a friend of Silvina’s by that name not long before we left San Francisco. I want a chat with him. I also want to find out if there’s any connection between him and Harmony Femme.”
I scan her expression but read neither agreement or dissent.
“I have no idea why this is happening to her. First, they took my uncle. Then, Gabriela. They wanted to get to the bunker, which makes sense if you know the cruel brains of the Santa Colombini. But I can’t figure out why they’d want Silvina.”
Tatiana nods slowly. She has a cappuccino in her hands but doesn’t drink from it. “Right. They kill, they maim, they take revenge. They torture for their cause, and with Gabriela and your uncle Cosimo, their response followed their typical pattern. The problem is, removing Silvina completely without leaving a single trace isn’t a part of that pattern. When do you plan on leaving?”
I really look at her. There’s astute intelligence bristling in her eyes.
“Who says I’m leaving?”
She just arches a brow.
I blow out my cheeks. “Okay. I’d like to leave asap. It’s just that my father’ll make sure I don’t get far.”
“What if I helped you?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You can do that?”
“I’ll get you on your way whenever you’re ready, and I can make sure you’re undercover the whole way there. You won’t be discovered by anyone, Santa Colombini or Nascimbeni.”
I smirk, because this is just laughable. With her job, she’s going to keep me undercover? “You’re kidding, right?”
Again, she arches a fine brow, silver stare mocking me. “Try me.”
It’s three hours later, and I’m on my way to San Francisco. I hugged Ma. She looked me over suspiciously. I gave the other girls in my life a hug too, but my brother would have figured out my plan, so Tatiana and I agreed she’ll let him know later.
“He’d insist on heading up the mission,” she said what I was thinking.
“And he lost a lot of blood,” I finished.
“His biggest issue is his bruised spleen. He gets lightheaded, and what good would a fainting god be to you?”
“A what now?” I’d frowned.
“Oh, nothing.” She tilted a smile my way. “Just a private joke. Your brother thinks he’s God with the way he pulls everyone’s strings. I tease him for it.”
Now, I’m in the backseat of a small silver BMW 120. I’m content with the tinted windows that carry throughout the car. The couple in the front, Tatiana’s friends I suppose, showed no interest in my overly heavy duffel bag, and so far, they haven’t asked me any personal questions. When necessary, we simply take off on side roads for gas and bathroom breaks. Halfway to San Francisco, the woman starts handing out sandwiches.
“You know my situation, don’t you?” I finally ask.
She turns and gives me a wink. “We do this all the time. Don’t worry about it.”
We hit San Francisco in record time, and Tatiana’s friends drop me off in Vernal Heights, at an apartment that’s supposedly in Tatiana’s family. She mentioned the ground-level garage and how I can use a motorcycle that’s parked there.
Once inside, I hit the garage, entering from the kitchen. A black Suzuki waits there. It’s newish, the engine small enough to not claim attention on the streets. The keys are in the ignition, and turning it, I find the tank full. It’s all so convenient.
I give a quick inspection of the rest of the place. A small kitchen, a bathroom, two tiny bedrooms, and a den with a TV. I test the internet, get on my laptop with the password Tatiana’s shot off to my throwaway. It works great. The fridge has food in it too. Again, I let my head spin with the type of connections Tatiana must have. It seems the Nascimbeni aren’t the only ones with access to safe houses.
All good? Tatiana types out.
Yeah. Have you told Isaias?
Yes. Your brother is upset with us. :-)
I smile. Of course. And Il Lince?
Not happy. He wants to send someone out for you.
You told him where I am??? Fuck.
No. All he knows is you’re gone.
Our texting gets interrupted by a call. I recognize Isaias’ throwaway and pick up, cringing. “Hey.”
“That was a dumbass idea,” he growls. “If you’d given me a few more hours, I’d have taken care of it myself.”
“Whatever. I need to find her now. I can’t lay around waiting like a fucking douche while they’re doing god-knows-what to my girl.”
“And you think your inexperienced ass can play the Colombini all alone?”
“Isaias,” Tatiana snaps in the background.
He groans quietly.
“You need to trust someone else sometimes, especially in your condition.”
“I should be saying that to you, baby,” he murmurs, voice going all tender.
I roll my eyes. “Fratello, I don’t have time for this. Gotta go.”
“No, you listen to me, little brother. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re taking a nap, right this moment. Make it hours and make them count. Got it?”
“Will you fucking stop patronizing me?”
“In the meantime, Tatiana and I’ll be talking with Gabriela. We’ll set in motion our networks and gather intel for you.”
Crap. That does sound good.
“Don’t—for the love of God—don’t leave the safe house before you get word back from me.”
“I can gather my own intel,” I mutter.
“Right, because that’s smart. The rebellious little brother losing a ton of time on half-assed moves while his cousin remains in the hands of a bunch of savages. Randolfo took her. Has that sunk into your brain yet? And wherever he put her, we need to get her out. Who saves her isn’t exactly the point.”
“Isaias, take it easy.” Tatiana in the background.
I rumble out another groan. I’m so frustrated right now. I honestly don’t even know where to start looking. Where are the Santa Colombini strongholds up here? I came to find John, Silvina’s classmate in Biology. She doesn’t have Biology until tomorrow, and I don’t even know his last name. How many students named John are there in San Francisco?
“Gioele?” Isaias already sounds milder.
“What!”
“All I’m saying is I fucking do this for a living. Okay? I network. I gather intel. I’ve got connections, both legal and illegal ones that are so far out of your league you can’t even dream them up. And don’t get me wrong: you should acquire my kind of connections in the future, but you won’t get anywhere that can be helpful to Silvina in the next few days.”
“Gioele?” That’s Tatiana up close and on the phone.
“Yeah.” I can practically feel them zooming in on me together, she with her silver insistence and Isaias with that green X-ray stare he has.
“Isaias and I can get you plenty to work with if you give us a few more hours. We’ve already started digging in. We’ve been at it since— Well, since your brother was done throwing a fit.”
“You call that a fit?” he asks behind her.
“You do that, baby,” she tells him sweetly, away from the phone, before she returns to me. “Are you good with that, Gioele? Get some rest. We’ll give you something to work with at the latest by midnight.”
I nod, feeling relief sink in. When your heart has left you, it’s the small things that count, like grabbing some zzzs without losing time. I can do this.