The three of us hunkered down, different prayers being said as the hulk of a car seemed to speed up, and fresh, cold air blew into the interior. Vincenzo had the window rolled down, his gun lifted, bullets whizzing. The three of us held our ears against the deafening racket. He was screaming things out of the window, making sure the assailants saw that it was just two men in the car.
Oh, Jesus. Brando. I didn’t even have a chance to tell him that I loved him, or kiss him properly. I squeezed his hand!
Chiara let out a scream when the ping of bullets started to ricochet off the exterior. The Fausti fleet was bulletproof, but even knowing that, it didn’t make the feeling of getting death-sprayed any easier. Someone, or people, were attempting to kill us.
After what felt like a lifetime, though it was only a minute or so, we must’ve broken through the gate and into freedom.
“Romeo,” I pleaded. “Portami indietro. Per favore.”
I could see his face through the mirror, and it was set, determined. He had orders. He wasn’t going back. Nothing I did or said would change his mind. He wasn’t totally unaffected though. Every so often he would glance back at me, catch a glimpse of me staring at him with pleading eyes, and then turn back toward the road ahead. “He will be all right, Sissy,” he said after he seemed to find the right words. “Have faith.”
Rosaria asked Romeo where we were going and he ignored her—whether he was coming down from the high or still mentally back at the villa, it was hard to tell. Romeo wasn’t used to running. Vincenzo either, but he was more in the moment than Romeo, and he answered.
“To Vallelunga Pratameno. We will leave this auto fifteen minutes from here. We will split up once more but meet at the same place.”
“Our men?” Chiara asked.
“This has been planned,” was all that he said.
I said no more for the remainder of the ride to the first rendezvous point. I couldn't. I was holding on by a shredded thread. Fear and panic clung to me like the cold inside of the car. The temperature seemed to have hit zero somewhere along the way, and neither one of the men thought to turn on the heater. None of the women, including me, thought to ask. Chiara’s teeth were clattering next to me. I trembled, every so often experiencing a spasm. Rosaria wasn't having any outward reaction, but her skin was pale and her head hung against the window, her breath fogging up the glass.
By the time we reached the meet up point, I was ready to jump out of the car. I almost collapsed when I realized that Brando, Rocco, and Donato were not among the men waiting for us.
“Where is he, Romeo?” I croaked. “Tell me.”
“I do not know, Sissy. Perhaps he did not feel it safe to meet us here now. We have other places, should he have been followed. Perhaps he will be waiting at our final destination.”
I noticed Uncle Tito standing by a car, looking grim. I didn't have the nerve to start a conversation with him. I didn't even have sufficient strength to step out of the car.
Romeo went to the rear and retrieved a duffel bag, handing it to Rosaria. He told us fresh clothes could be found and we had five minutes to change in the back seat. Romeo stood with his back turned to us on one side, Vincenzo on the other.
The act of undressing and then dressing in the car was a silent affair. None of us spoke unless we needed some help with a zipper or more space to maneuver. We were all afraid of our thoughts and speaking them aloud. Though the cold air seemed to numb my body, it did nothing to subdue my thoughts. It seemed to zap more feeling into me and wake my mind up with an almost insane vigor.
I bit my lip, hard, when I realized that Brando had packed my clothes. A cream thermal shirt, black leggings, thick socks, our leather jacket, and a pair of Doc Martens, along with one of his wool beanie hats. It still carried the scent of him, and I had to swallow down the sob in my throat.
I balled and flexed my fingers, attempting to release some pressure. I had crescent marks on my palms where I had dug in my nails without realizing. I wanted to scream, to just…go home. I had never had that before Brando, a place that truly felt like mine. He was my place, and I felt lost without a map.
Romeo knocked on the window and the three of us jumped at the same time. Five minutes on the dot. It was decided that Rosaria and Chiara would go with Vincenzo in the bigger car. I would ride with Romeo. Vincenzo was adamant about taking me, but Romeo wouldn’t hear of it.
When I gave Romeo my hand to step out of the SUV, my knees buckled, and he had to hold me up.
“Steady, Sissy. Almost there.”
I slid into the small backseat, giving Romeo and Uncle Tito, who refused to ride with anyone else, the two front seats. Uncle Tito was a thinker and had thin skin, or so he claimed, and pumped up the heater.
It didn’t take long to toast the interior of the small Italian car, old and banged up, and before long my eyebrows felt singed and my lungs on fire.
“I am going to fall asleep, Uncle,” Romeo said to him, his eyes blinking rapidly to stay awake. “It feels like an inferno in here!”
I slipped off the jacket and made a pillow for myself, suddenly feeling exhausted and unable to keep my eyes open. I thought I heard Uncle Tito whisper that it was better if I slept. Though I didn’t truly sleep. I could feel the turns and rumbles of the car, hear the murmurings in the background, and every so often my body would seize so violently that I thought at some point my muscles would get stuck that way, like a petrified tree. Time seemed to weave in and out of consciousness, sometimes passing in a blur, other times in a slow tick.
We had moved farther inland, around sloping terrain and long, wide fields, cloaked in the pitch of night and the crevices we took shelter in. The stars were lacking tonight, which made me feel more vulnerable and unsteady, utterly alone in a foreign place. No moon either. Only the shining beams of light from the car highlighted snippets before we moved on.
After an unaccountable amount of time had passed, we pulled into a gravel driveway, following it up to a villa situated on a hill. The villa itself seemed part of the night until Romeo pulled up closer and creamy lemon paint became visible. The roof was terra cotta. I stared at it for a moment before my eyes drooped again.
“I will alert the sisters we are here,” Uncle Tito said in a soft voice. “This way they will not shoot.”
Great. Shooting sisters.I didn’t thinkthiscar was bulletproof. It had rust stains and dents. The vibration of its motor rattled underneath the seat. A dried piece of pasta was stuck to my leg from a previous user.
