Page 102 of Capo

“How? You can’t kill everyone.”

“I can. And I will.” He dabs his lips with a napkin, drops it on the table and stands. “It’s been… different. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I need to leave, but you won’t be staying here much longer.” Leaning in, he gives me a quick kiss and picks up his phone, looks at the screen and then pockets it. “Time to go.”

I dart up, my chest tightening. I don’t want this odd moment to end. Luciano grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder and heads out without even looking back. My stomach plummets. He’ll send for me. We’ll go back to captor and captive, predator and prey. Tears well up in my eyes at the thought and my hand shakes as I drink up the last of my now-cool coffee. I should try to run, but I know there’s no use. I can’t get away from here. I don’t know how far his reach is in Sicily, but I have no doubt his influence is wide and that I’d run into his people wherever I went. Also, I have no money, nothing but sandals and little dresses. I have no phone of my own and no means to save myself.

The next couple of days are hell. My insides itch with longing and trepidation. All I see is how I get locked up again, how he’ll spank me and fuck me and use me. Oh, I know I’ll let him. He coaxes answers from my body that I have no control over. I want him so fucking bad: on me, under me, everywhere. I can’t wait to feel him again at the same time as grief builds in me.

The village stirs when a dust cloud approaches, moving quickly along the road and the shape of a car manifests. My heart shoots up to my throat, fear seizing me. No more fighting! I can’t do this again! Alessandra comes running across the square, a phone in her hand, I see her through the window. She looks excited, but not scared as she barges into the house.

“Chloe! It’s for you!” She hands me the phone with a sly expression on her face.

I put it to my ear, filled with trepidation and breathe out a faint, “Chloe.”

“The car is for you.” Salvatore’s voice is like silk in my ear. “I suggest you pack up quickly.”

“I—” But he’s already disconnected.

A woman shouts for Alessandra and she and I dart out of the house and take off running through the alley. On the square, almost on the spot where I was left off a few weeks ago, stands a black limousine with dark tinted windows. Next to it a driver dressed in a navy-blue suit and with a cap to boot. A drop of sweat runs along his temple. It’s hot, and it has to be scorching in those clothes.

“Signorina Becker?” He takes off his cap and holds it against his chest as he gives me a tiny bow. “I take you to aeroporto.”

“Yeah,” I gasp, still panting from the sprint. “That’s me.”

He opens the back door and holds out his arm, inviting me in. I hesitate, then I realize I have absolutely nothing to pack. A hand on my shoulder makes me spin around. Alessandra has tears in her eyes and I throw my arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll miss you. I wish I could stay.”

She strokes the back of my head. Always so warm, so tender. “You’ll be all right, Chloe Becker. It’s been an honor knowing you. You have a good heart. Take care of yourself. Tell Signore Salvatore that if he doesn’t treat you right, he’ll have hell to pay the next time he gets here.”

I scoff. “He does as he pleases. How would you even know?”

“If you don’t stay in touch, we’ll know.” She holds me at arm’s length. “Stay in touch. Come back and visit.”

I bite down on my lower lip so that it won’t tremble. I can’t promise her that. I don’t know what awaits me.

Everyone comes to bid me farewell. This time around I understand a few words. I recognize ‘thank you’, ‘goodbye’, ‘take care’, and ‘come back’. When everything has been said and done, I hold Alessandra’s hands, looking at her pleadingly. She squeezes my hands reassuringly and smiles. “It will be all right. He cares for you more than you know.”

I don’t say anything but I nod to make her happy, then I turn to the cool darkness of the back of the car and climb inside. Alessandra gives me a little wave and closes the door. We’re off before I’ve even buckled up, driving so fast along the narrow road that it takes my breath away and I clutch the seat, thinking we’ll shoot off the roadside at every curve.

The view of the mountains, with their blurry, snow covered tops, is familiar this time around. It seems this ride to the airport is shorter than I remember. Maybe it’s I who fear the great unknown even worse this time? Shimmering heat slaps me in the face when I get out of the car and take hesitant steps toward the airplane. I look back at the driver for confirmation and he nods and gestures for me to continue.

I recognize the pilot, but the co-pilot is a new face.

“Buckle up, Miss Becker. We’re on a tight schedule.”

I sigh. “Long ride.”

“This isn’t as long,” says the pilot.

“No? Where are we going?”

“The great Roma, capital of Italy.”

I stop flat. “We’re going to Rome? I’m going to Rome? Do I get to see Rome?”

The pilot’s serious, almost saddened face brightens a little. “I don’t know. At least you can get a good look out the window. Now please sit.”

My heart bounces as I obey. Fuck everything else. I really need to see Rome. Images of churches, of the Colosseum, The Da Vinci Code, ice cream, old movies in black and white with Anita Ekman, and that famous square I can’t remember the name of flicker through my mind and for the first time in a long while I’m nothing but excited.

When I step off the plane, I wave to the pilot who gives me a brief smile, then I bounce down the stairs. The air is different here. Definitely more polluted, and thicker, more humid than in the mountains. There’s only one transport in sight. A black limousine, of course. I half expect someone to be sitting in the back seat. Maybe Luciano himself, but it’s empty. I lower the window between the passenger compartment and the driver.

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