Page 8 of Claimed By My Stalker

I cup her face and pull her closer, giving her gentle bites and nibbling on her lips. Her hands grip my forearms tightly. Carrie quivers and her knees buckle bringing an end to our kiss. I’m quick to grab her before she falls. Both of us are breathing hard, mine more audible than hers. We hold on to each other still, our hearts still racing and our faces flushed.

Carrie wraps her hands around my torso and places her head on my chest. We stand in silence taking in the cool evening air from the open terrace. I stare at the sunset view from the distance, every view on this terrace is more beautiful than the last. One of the most beautiful views in the house.

3

Carlo

There’s a traitor in my circle. I had suspected it all along, right from when Bruno knew I was going to take the seaport and when word got out that deals were being made in the Accona desert.

What about when the DEA raided my pepperoni storage? They found nothing because my suppliers were running late, a stroke of sheer luck, the cops could only do such a thing based on intel. The question is, who is the snitch? It has to be someone in my house. Someone who knows my every move.

There is certain information some of my men don't ever get to hear about. I have a policy, if you're not involved, it's best to stay ignorant. Only those vital to a plan are let in on what it entails.

I takea quick look at the men around me, regarding each of them as suspects. Enzo is out of the question, he stuck with me longer than the rest and would lay down his life for me, I’m sure of it. Luca… Luca talks too much for a man but he isn’t a snitch. He could talk non-stop for hours without letting any single useful piece of information out in his rantings. Once the cops kept him for 24 hours using every psychology trick in their book to get him to talk. They didn’t get anything useful out of Luca till my lawyer showed up for him.

A hand stretches out to hand an inventory request form for my signature, I proofread the document and my eyes wander to the waiting hand. I recognize Jake's hand from the scar that stretches across his palm. Jake has mutism, but that would not stop him from giving out information he shouldn’t. I picked Jake up off the streets as a seventeen-year-old illegal immigrant, and it’s still no indication that he wouldn’t turn his back on me after everything I’ve done.

My eyes linger on him as I hand the documents back to him.

“There's a situation," Enzo says. "Bruno's men have been sighted on our turf again and this time, they’re selling coke.”

I’m not surprised by the news, it’s only a matter of time before Bruno throws another of his tantrums. Since he is done with Giovanni, I have become his next target.

Enzo looks at me intensely waiting for my reply.

I heave a big sigh and stay silent. I was hoping to spend my day indoors today, sort out paperwork, spend some time with Carrie…

Enzo interrupts my thoughts. “What are you going to do about Bruno?”

“What I should have done a long time ago. Are his men still there?”

“Yes, it’s been 36 hours and it doesn’t look like they’ll be leaving anytime soon. They’re all out in the open, no fear, nothing sneaky.”

I know it’s time to instill that fear.

“Bruno is trying to get my attention, this time, I’m going to give it to him.”

“What’s the plan?” Enzo asks.

I don’t answer his question. This time I’m keeping my plan to myself, there’s a snitch in my circle and I’m going to be mysterious ol' Carlo until I find out who it is and cut his tongue out of his mouth.

_ _ _

The children’spark is where my men traded our product, one of the safest places to do such business. The sound of swings, laughter, excited screams, and the scoldings of parents drowns whatever you have to say there. Not everyone watching the children play is a parent or a guardian, some are just there to do business.

Enzo pulls the car over by the park. “That’s them.” He nods at two men holding balloons, one is wearing a flat cap and the other has a ridiculous pink bandana over his bald head, well disguised as fathers' in the park.

"We have to draw them out," I say.

“Are you planning to get rid of them?”

I don’t answer the question.

I recognize the red fiat parked a few cars away from ours. One of Bruno's. He has always had poor taste in vehicles.

I switch to the driver's seat, rev up the car engine and violently reverse into the red fiat. The car alarm goes off getting everyone’s attention at the park. Bruno's men shout and swear at us as they take hurried steps to the deliberate accident. Parents cover the ears of their children as the men advance toward us.

I keep the engine steady and switch the gear.

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