Page 43 of The Demon
Angelo speaks up, “So we need to discover who this Mafia King is that everyone’s afraid of.”
He appears thoughtful. “Any ideas?”
Silence is his answer, and he sighs heavily before turning to Malik.
“Can you find him?”
Malik nods and I sense the tension break in the room as he answers, “I won’t rest until I have. I will use every tracking device, every inch of spyware I own, and every algorithm invented to trawl through my father’s and Massimo’s records. I’m certain I could break Giovanni Ortega’s security passwords and search through his files, too. If there is a Mafia King out there, he won’t be hidden for long and then we will go and get Frankie back and nothing will stop us.”
CHAPTER28
ELIZA
When Jasmine asked me to follow the women, I was a little worried about leaving Malik. I have grown to rely on him and being here at Club Mafia is an intense experience I am still uncomfortable with. It’s as if I’m the enemy within. The woman who lost their baby and so I’m surprised when Winter takes my hand and smiles reassuringly.
“It’s ok, Eliza, there is nothing to fear here. We care for our own and you’re one of us now.”
I’m not sure if she realizes how much her words mean to me and I smile gratefully and follow the women from the room into a huge kitchen. It appears to have everything any chef would desire, and I stare in awe at the marbled counter tops and sleek cabinetry that appears state-of-the art. A huge table sits at one end near a glass wall overlooking a garden that appears to stretch for miles.
Winter guides me across the gigantic room to the table and says kindly, “You can relax now. No one is here to judge you.”
She drops into the seat beside me, while the other three women appear to be making drinks and preparing snacks from the overly large refrigerator, their happy chatter making me relax for the first time in a very long while.
Winter says anxiously, “Please tell me everything. I want to talk about Frankie. I was only ever allowed a few hours with him, and I’ve missed out on so much of his life already.”
This is a subject I know a lot about and so I tell her everything I can think of. How he had nasty colic, and I used to stay up all night rocking him to sleep, trying hard to ease his symptoms. How he used to smile at me when I plucked him from his crib. When he started crawling, and the cute little sounds he made. I could talk for hours about Frankie because he has been my entire life for well over a year now and I hate the lost yearning I see reflected in Winter’s eyes as she realizes that she is a stranger to her own son.
“I missed out on so much.” Her eyes drop and I watch a tear splash onto the table. I reach for her hand and say gently, “We used to hear you singing.”
She peers up and I smile. “I would stand with Frankie by the open window, covering him with a soft blanket against the chill. As soon as I heard you, I would open the window wide and tell him that was his mother’s voice. It used to calm him, and he would snuggle into my shoulder and the sound would wash over us both. I wanted your voice to be familiar to him. To bring you closer to one another so that when you visited, you wouldn’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you.” Winter’s voice shakes as the tears pour from her sad eyes and she sobs, “I hoped he would hear me. It was all I could do when locked in my cell. I only ever thought of him and what he was doing at that moment. I realized he was being well cared for. It was evident when I visited, but I felt so separated from him. It was all I had to bring us closer.”
“And it did.” I reassure her.
“At the sound of your voice, he would stop whatever he was doing to listen. He knew it was you, and it made him happy.”
The gratitude in Winter’s eyes makes me feel good about myself for once in my life and I can press my hand to my heart and tell her I treated him like I would my own child. I love him. That hasn’t changed, which is why I feel so bad about sending him off with a stranger.
The other three women join us and Jasmine, Angelo’s wife, pushes two mugs of coffee toward us and a plate of cookies.
“This will have to do until dinner, I’m afraid. It won’t be long. I expect you’re starving, Eliza.”
“I’m tired mainly. There was food on the plane, but to be honest, after everything that happened, I kind of lost my appetite.”
“How are you now, honey?”
I turn to Charlotte, the pretty woman married to the tattooed warrior they call The Savage, and smile.
“Tired, a little emotional, but above all grateful to be here and away from my family.”
“Amen to that.” Louisa nods, her eyes swimming with compassion. “It must have been hard. Your father sounds like a jackass.”
It makes us all laugh and Jasmine raises her mug to mine. “From the daughter of another jackass, we have a lot in common already.”
As we sip our coffee, I wonder about these women. It’s obvious they all have a story to tell and I’m looking forward to getting to know them all individually.
Charlotte shakes her head and sighs. “I understand a lot about lengthy travel journeys. My own was intense, and I know how you’re feeling right now.”