The monk sat, crushing the can of beer, one of his weaknesses, in his thin hand. His hands were like claws but powerful in strength.
Now he threw the destroyed can into the distance, not being aware of the loud sound it created.
He was livid. But unlike Dusak, sex and then the killing, did not take the edge off his fury. He would use it, instead, to come up with another plan. But this time, he was a worried man.
Lucien Delano had already smashed some of his hideouts within minutes of discovering how he had been playing the man’s daughter; had effectively shut down, using either force or coercion, some of the lucrative deals he had begun to cut with the drug lords around California and the other states. Of course, the Mafia Don had had the able support of the Cosa Nostra in this regard, particularly because he had been championed by the cunning barrister, Tristan Lord.
The Monk scowled darkly and began to mumble, fiddling with his beads. To add to his miseries, the mad woman, the Assassin was on the loose. She had broken free from him, had managed to get her brother out of the hospice shifted the fellow to.
The woman had been f*cking that callow youth, Piers Delano, the scion of the Delano clan. And she had managed to slip away from them as well, from the reports he had just received.
Word on the street was that now she had both his men as well as the Delano mob looking for her. A wily woman with a large bounty on her head; the irony made his thin lips twitch. She had been a bounty hunter herself. Now she was the hunted. God’s ways are amazing, he thought as he pulled out his worn wooden beads and began clacking.
His men exchanged looks, wary and surreptitiously.
*
Hila had managed to alter her appearance again and now, as she strolled down the road, disguised as a middle-aged woman in an advanced stage of pregnancy, she looked about, swishing her short blonde hair. The wig fitted well but she was planning to go ahead and cut her hair short and dye it too, for added effect. She was also making the arrangements to leave the country.
But her heart, the organ she had forgotten existed within her, longed to catch a glimpse of the man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with. In her everyday clothes, the ones she had picked up from a bargain store, she looked like any ordinary American woman, a frumpy mother who was a little on the large side.
As she moved along the opposite side of the road of the Delano townhouse, she slowed imperceptibly as she saw the cars that were waiting on the curb, men in suits standing about, the inevitable bodyguards.
And as she watched, she saw the door open; Piers came out looking lost and defeated, with his brother, the sidekick who was devoted to his older sibling, following him. Claude Delano was talking animatedly, shaking his head, waving his hands, the powerful biceps bulging as he stabbed the air, making a point. Two handsome men, like the sons of the Sun God, with their fair curls and sinewy bodies.
Although Piers was leaner and his body packed hard muscle.
But she saw that Piers was shaking his head, tiredly, empathically.
‘No Claude,’ she heard his voice, the hoarseness making her catch her lip between her teeth.
For a brief moment, just as he was about to get into the waiting car, he stopped and looked about him, at the street, his grey-blue eyes narrowed, clouded.
Searching. And she knew, with a certainty that was like a knife twisting in her gut, she knew he was looking for her. For he was a good man, a gentleman and he was yet to come to terms with her betrayal.
His eyes rested on her briefly but they moved away, as though she was not the one he was searching for. With her crumpled shirt and jacket, the protruding baby bump and her sunglasses and short hair, she did not look a lot like the woman he had made such passionate love to.
And then the cars were moving away and she stood her heart hammering.
A huge, darkness threatened to engulf her as she watched, her gaze misting over, and eh cars roared away into the distance.
Would she never see him again, she thought in dismay.
*
Piers settled back in the car, his eyes shut. Pappa had decreed that he should stay at the Big House, under house arrest, so to speak.
And when the Boss cracked the whip, you jumped. It made no difference if you were his son.
*
Proserpina
I waited in the house after everyone had gone to sleep. A feeling of hopelessness and despondency crept over me, and I knew I would not be able to sleep now. Baby Rudi had been unusually restless and my teats were tender from his incessant suckling. Sighing, I stood up and crossed to the kitchen window that opened onto the lawn.
Lucien had not returned and it was near dawn. He had been cold and angry and I could not blame him. Both Tara and Piers had let him down.
*
Tara had been contrite, for once not so dramatic. She seemed to understand that she had only been a pawn and the realization had changed her somehow. When she came to me and threw her arms around me, we stood, silently weeping. I stroked her head of curly locks without saying a word.
And as for Madeline Nord, she had been told very clearly that she was not welcome anymore. The rude teenager had turned up at the house, demanding to meet Tara who had blocked her on social media and was not returning her calls. She had been accompanied by her mother.
“I need to speak to her,” declared the girl, her bony arms folded across her chest and for a minute I could visualize what she would become in the future.
An angry, bitter woman who would never be happy, unceasingly jealous, and spiteful.
She had been accompanied by her mother, the harassed-looking Maja Nord, who it turned out, had come home to speak on her daughter’s behalf.
‘Young people do these things,’ she said, smiling weakly, a feral look in her eyes and I saw what I had tried to ignore all this while; a woman who was envious of what we had. It was like a sinking feeling in my heart.
Luckily, Schwartz strode in at the same time as Ria stormed into the kitchen along with the rest of my children. Camille and Beatrice closed in behind them, old Bea with a rolling pin in her hand which made my lips twitch involuntarily.
My own little Delano mob, I thought drily.
Lou and Dom came up behind Schwartz , their faces pinched with anger. Lou looked as though he would punch Madeline and I turned to Schwartz who stared coldly at the Nords, coming up to stand behind me, protectively.
He placed a hand on my arm and I could feel the warm, reassuring heat. Maja Nord’s eyes flickered to his hand and again, a look passed over her face and I felt a sense of deja vu. She looked so much like Sophie at that moment.
But before I could say anything, Ria had shut the woman down.
‘My sister almost got kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking. And that was because of what your daughter did. So no, sorry. But we do not want you to visit us anymore.’ She said in her frostiest voice and I felt Schwartz tighten his hand around my upper arm, just a gentle squeeze so I remained quiet.
Maja Nord opened and shut her mouth a few times, her face flushed, as her daughter glared at Ria, the black eyes now pinpoints of hate. Maja looked at Schwartz as she said, almost whining,
“This is unfair and really rude…James…’
‘Please leave,’ said Schwartz in a commanding voice and I thanked the Gods that Claude, my hot headed , impetuous son was not in the room. He would have bodily hefted the mother-daughter duo and thrown them out.
Now that James Schwartz had also given her the cold treatment, it was clear to them. Yes, the Nords were black listed now.
*
Piers was another matter. My heart ached for my eldest child. The boy had a look of shock, of having been cheated. And Lucien’s imperative decision that he should be at home and not allowed outside, had also been a humiliation that the young man had swallowed, painfully but silently.
i knew that he had had feelings for the woman who was nothing but a cold blooded murderer. Ria and Claude had tried to talk to him but he had shut them off, preferring to remain alone.
I sighed as I looked out at the darkened garden. I longed for the days when the children had been young. How much simpler life had been then!
My phone pinged and I frowned as I saw that there was a message from my old friend, Brian, who had embraced the Buddhist faith and was now a world spiritual leader, delivering talks in various parts of the world. Belatedly, I remembered that he must be in the US now.
I sank onto a seat, curling my feet under me as I made a call to the man who I had once thought of marrying. The sound of the Buddhist monk’s tones, cool, clipped and so elegant made me smile.
‘Brian,’ I whispered, as an idea came to me,” I need some help from you…’