When Player stayed silent Gio spoke up, “Leave him alone, Dwyane. I have a feeling I know who it was, and he will be dealt with after we go and save your club.” Player’s head snapped up so fast, I feared he may have given himself whiplash.
“You can’t know. I told no one.”
“True, but you would be surprised what the family investigation has recovered in such a short time. No worries, cousin. I will wait until you tell me yourself before I retaliate. In the meantime, Salvatore, we will need your crew. No one else. Antonio, get the contract ready for Mr. Doherty to sign. Lorenzo, call Illyria and tell her she is needed at home. I want Luciano and the rest of the family to stay behind and protect Layla.”
“I’m going with you,” I stated firmly, taking a step towards him as he silently shook his head, carefully wording his response. “I may know the beginnings of the mystery surrounding my cousin, but you,Cara,I know nothing about. Until I can have your story verified, you will stay within the confines of this property. You will remain a guest and under my protection. When I return, we will talk more.”
“But?” I quickly uttered, only to be silenced as Gio held up his hand. He walked over to me, grabbed my hands, brought them up to his mouth, and kissed my knuckles gently. “You will stay here. You are under my protection. I don’t give my word lightly. Please, allow me to keep my word.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen a man look so sincere and mean what he said. Men were liars, people to not be trusted in my life, yet I wanted to trust Giovanni for some reason. I knew it was a risk, so I simply nodded my head.
“Good,” he said, kissing my forehead before asking, “I am assuming we don’t have a lot of time, is that correct?”
I shook my head, “No. According to my source, Reaper is raiding the compound at sunrise. His mother is there. He wants her dead, but to do that, they need to secure the kid first.”
“She’s right, Gio,” Massacre acknowledged. “Reaper will grab the kid before he goes in. Once the kid is clear, he will storm the compound. Anyone not in a Skulls cut will be slaughtered. Reaper doesn’t play when it comes to kids. He’s dead serious about them.”
“Another admiral trait that aligns with mine. Alright, gentlemen, let’s go save the Golden Skulls.”
Giovanni, his brothers, and Player and Massacre were gone within the hour. Left alone with only Gio’s sister Illyria, his mother, and some other men who worked for the family, I was basically left to my own vices. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Since this whole mess started, I always had a plan of action. I thought I would be going with Gio to Louisiana. Still, instead, I was now sitting at a dining table having morning breakfast with Giovanni’s mother Nicoletta and his sister Illyria.
Both women were stunning, to say the least, and I could tell from the way they held themselves they were used to having unannounced visitors at their table.
I knew a lot about Giovanni’s sister, Illyria. Her life was in every tabloid known to man. The youngest Valentinetti was a socialite of the highest caliber. There wasn’t an event, party, soiree, or gala she didn’t attend. She was well educated and about to graduate from Loyola University with a degree in Economics. She never dated the same man more than once and was highly private when it came to her family. Her personal life, well, in that regard, she was an open book.
Her mother, Nicoletta, however, was another story.
Hardly seen in public, Nicoletta Maria Benedetti was the only daughter to Lazzaro Benedetti, a local baker who lived in old Chicago, when she met Valentino Valentinetti. From all accounts, it was a whirlwind romance. They were married three months later, and Giovanni was born nine months later. There was little known about Nicoletta or her family. It was almost as if she had just appeared out of thin air all those years ago.
Yet the woman married mere weeks of meeting the most prominent mafia kingpin Chicago had ever seen since Al Capone.
“So, how do you know my nephews, Layla?” Nicoletta asked as she took a bite of her cantaloupe in front of her.
Taking the napkin from my lap, I quickly wiped my mouth and said, “They are good friends with my brother Dylan.”
“So, you are from California?”
“No, ma’am. I am from Tennessee.”
“Ah, where the Smoky Mountains are. I hear they are beautiful in the fall. Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are. The mountains look like a patchwork quilt in the fall, made up of beautiful shades of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. When the fog rolls in, it gives the mountains a mysterious, almost benevolent feel, as if God himself is there enjoying the view.”
“Are you a religious woman?”
“I believe in God if that’s what you mean, but I don’t go to church as often as I should.”
“And what denomination are you?”
“I was raised Protestant, ma’am.”
“So, you are not Catholic?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Mother, leave her alone. Not everyone is Catholic.”
“I was just asking a question, Illyria.”