The Marriage Profile. Metsy HingleЧитать онлайн книгу.
dark-eyed stranger that was his son. It had always amazed him that such a handsome and fierce young man had actually come from him and Isadora. Ricky had always been so much braver, so much stronger than he had been, Johnny thought. He still didn’t know what the hush-hush military mission was his son had just returned from, but he had no doubts that it had been dangerous. Ricky had never shied away from danger. And whatever this mission was his former commander sent Ricky on, it hadn’t frightened his son. Ricky hadn’t hesitated to go. Since his return, the boy had seemed different, more serious. But Ricky had said little about what had happened. Perhaps if he himself had been half the man his son was, Johnny thought, his Isadora would still be alive.
“Pop, you okay?”
Johnny shook off thoughts of his many failures. “I’m fine. Now, quit fussing over me like an old woman and go see about your lady friend.”
Ricky hesitated a moment, his gaze shifting from Johnny to Angela and back again. “All right. But you and I are going to talk, Pop. And I need you to be straight with me. I want to know what Del Brio said that’s got you upset.”
“Who says I’m upset? Do I look upset to you?”
“Cut the act, Pop. Sal told me you and Del Brio had words. I want to know what it was about.”
Johnny eyed his friend. “Salvatore doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Now, go see about little Angela and quit fussing over me. I can take care of myself.”
“Pop—”
“La Madre di Dio! Basta! Leave it alone, Ricky. Just leave it alone,” Johnny commanded, and stalked away from his son toward the bar.
By the time the bartender handed him the glass of red wine, Johnny’s hands were no longer trembling from the rage that had been burning inside him for weeks now, ever since he’d put two and two together and had realized the truth—that Frank Del Brio had played a hand in Isadora’s death. Mixed in with the rage was shame. Shame at his own cowardice. He stared at the glass of red wine, remembered the sight of his Isadora lying in the hospital bed all battered and bruised. What kind of man was he to have gone along with Isadora’s claim that she’d been mugged when in his heart he’d known the truth? She’d been beaten as a warning because he had not followed Del Brio’s orders.
He hadn’t been a man at all, Johnny conceded. He’d been a coward, a yellow-bellied coward and a weakling. And because of him, Isadora was dead. He took a swallow of the merlot and squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of his sweet, tiny wife who had never had an unkind word for anyone.
Forgive me, Isadora. Forgive me.
How could he have been so blind? Johnny wondered as he left the festivities and wandered outdoors, away from the noise, away from the lights, away from the memories. He stared up at the sky, noted the dusting of stars, the half-moon. Yet his thoughts remained on Del Brio. How could he have failed to see before now how truly evil the man was? And to think at one time he had even condoned the man’s offer and allowed him to become engaged to his daughter, Haley.
Haley. My pretty, smart Haley. You knew what he was, didn’t you? That’s why you disappeared. It’s why you pretended to drown and let us believe you were dead. But all these years, all these years, your mama knew. She knew you were alive. And that baby girl, the little one called Lena that was kidnapped, she’s your baby, isn’t she? My granddaughter. My flesh and blood.
“I’m going to get her back for you,” Johnny murmured. And once Haley’s baby was safe, he would make Del Brio pay. He would pay for destroying his family. For forcing his daughter into hiding. For what he’d done to Isadora. Johnny clutched the now-empty wineglass between his palms as anger festered inside him. And when the pig was pleading for his life, when he was begging that he not be killed, Johnny would show the dog the same mercy that he had shown Isadora. None.
“Johnny, I’m sorry,” Sal said as he came up behind him. “That boy of yours, he tricked me. He said you’d told him you and Del Brio had had an argument. So I thought he knew.”
Johnny held up a hand to stem his friend’s apology. “It doesn’t matter. Ricky’s a smart boy. Both he and his sister have always been smarter than their old man.”
Sal frowned at him. “You talk as though Haley’s still alive. I thought you said you didn’t believe all that stuff Del Brio’s been spouting off, you know, about her not dying in that boating accident.”
“I don’t believe it,” Johnny lied, and silently cursed his slip of tongue. It was bad enough that he’d persuaded his son that Del Brio was right in his suspicions that Haley was alive. Now he wished he hadn’t. While he was convinced that the nun the nurse reported seeing in Isadora’s room shortly before her death had been Haley, he’d probably have been wise to keep that to himself. “Sometimes I get confused and forget that she’s dead. Too much vino, I guess,” he explained, holding up his empty glass.
Apparently satisfied, Sal nodded. “So, you going to tell Ricky what you found out? You know, that stuff about Del Brio ordering that potass…that potass…”
“Potassium chloride,” Johnny said, supplying the name. He’d read up on the subject after learning that Del Brio had taken a keen interest in the substance shortly before Isadora’s death. He’d also discovered that potassium chloride was one of the four electrolytes found in the body, but if injected into an IV in large doses it would be lethal and cause a victim to suffer a heart attack. His Isadora had never had a heart condition. That she had suffered a heart attack within a week of her hospital stay was reportedly a coincidence. Well, he’d lived too long and seen too many people he cared about hurt to believe in such coincidences. “And no, I have no intention of telling Ricky. I don’t want him involved. This is between me and Del Brio.”
Sal’s eyes darted around, searched the shadows. “Talk like that will get you killed,” Sal hissed in warning.
“I’m not afraid of Del Brio.” And he wasn’t, Johnny admitted silently. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid.
“Then you should be. You know what kind of man he is, Johnny. He sees shadows when there are none. He thinks you’re out to get him, and he won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Not if I kill him first.”
Sal swore. “You’re my oldest friend, Johnny. I’m godfather to your son. I’m begging you to listen to me. Forget about this plan of yours,” Sal pleaded. “You’re no match for Del Brio. Not only is he almost half your age, he’s dangerous, and he has the power of the family behind him. His taking over for Carmine the way he did instead of Ricky, it only made him more dangerous. For you to even think of taking him on would be suicide.” He placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Let it go, Johnny. Forget what I told you about Frank ordering that drug. It’s too late to help Isadora now. And she wouldn’t want you to do something stupid that could get you killed.”
Johnny shook off Sal’s hand and whirled around to face his friend. “You think I really care what happens to me now?”
“You should,” Sal told him. “Frank isn’t like your brother, Carmine. He’s ruthless. He’ll kill you, Johnny. He’ll kill you without blinking an eye.”
“I told you, not if I kill him first. I intend to have my vengeance. An eye for an eye.” Una vita per una vita. A life for a life, he added silently.
Sal looked furtively around them again. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this, not here. You know as well as I do that the shadows have eyes and ears.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Maybe you’ve lost Isadora and Haley, but you’ve still got a son, Johnny. And Ricky’s still part of the family.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Ricky,” Johnny said, and stared at Sal Nuccio, a man much like himself. Someone who had been born into the life of corruption and had followed the dictates of the ruling family all of his sixty years. It wasn’t the life he’d wanted