Burned Dreams - Page 69

Alessandro moves the coffee table in front of Rocco and grabs another chair from the corner of the room. He then sets it on the other side of the table, facing Rocco.

“Time to wake up, Pisano,” Alessandro says as he takes a seat and places his gun on the table surface.

Rocco’s eyes flutter open. For a moment, he just stares at Alessandro, then leaps up off the chair, his left hand reaching for the gun.

Alessandro is faster. He snatches the weapon and sends a bullet into Rocco’s thigh. “That will keep you sitting.”

Rocco falls back onto the chair, screaming at the top of his lungs. Alessandro ignores his wailing and puts the gun back on the table. Calmly, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a deck of cards.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, you piece of lying shit!” my husband roars between the sobs, spit flying in front of him. His face is red, either from rage or pain.

“I know you enjoy playing for high stakes,” Alessandro says as he shuffles the cards. “Since we don’t have pretty rocks on hand this time, we’ll play for something else. How about body parts?”

Rocco’s eyes flare. He leans back in the chair, staring at Alessandro, and the surprise on his face morphs into fear.

“Let me go,” Rocco blurts out. “Let me go, and I won’t tell Ajello anything. But if you do me harm, and the don finds out, you’re done, Zanetti.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You’ve dared to touch someone I love, so you’re going to pay for that, consequences be damned.”

I bite my lower lip. He decided to exact revenge after all. It’s probably why he asked me to stay in the kitchen. So I wouldn’t know.

“She’s my wife, you motherfucker!” Rocco snaps. He obviously concluded that Alessandro is talking about me and not his late wife.

“Your soon-to-be widow, you mean?” Alessandro cocks his head to the side and starts dealing the cards. “Yes. I’ve been in love with your future widow from the day I stepped into your home. Now, shut up and play. Or I may decide to fuck up your other hand and then you won’t be able to hold anything.”

I press my trembling hand over my lips. He’s doing this for me. The last of the doubts that were still in my heart fade away, and I let myself believe that the dreams I once had and thought were burned to ashes, will come true.

Tucking the sides of Alessandro’s suit jacket tightly around me, I sneak closer but hide from view behind one of the bookshelves. I wish I could run over there and kiss him, but I won’t dare distract him and risk Rocco getting the gun.

I thought poker could only be played with three or more people, but it seems I was wrong. Alessandro deals two cards for each of them, face down, then places three more on the table, face up.

“I fold,” Rocco sneers after he looks at his two cards.

“There is no folding in this game of mine, Pisano,” Alessandro replies as he places two more up-facing cards on the table. “We’ll also skip a step or two to save some time. Now, let’s see what we have.”

Rocco stares at the cards, then moves his gaze to the gun. I can see it in his eyes the moment he decides to reach for it. His body goes rigid as he leans slightly forward. I open my mouth to warn Alessandro, but there is no need. Alessandro’s hand shoots to the right, grabbing the weapon. A gunshot pierces the air the next moment.

My husband screams and presses his hand over his bleeding shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Alessandro asks as he lowers the gun, but Rocco just keeps wailing.

“I asked, does. It. Hurt?” Alessandro leans over the table and clasps his fingers around Rocco’s bandaged hand.

The sound that leaves Rocco’s lips is more animalistic than human. “Yes!”

“I’m glad. Let’s continue.”

I stay hidden behind the bookshelf and watch as they play three more rounds. Each one concludes with a bullet to Rocco’s body. His right bicep. Left foot. The other thigh. The pool of blood spreads all around Rocco’s chair. He’s barely able to sit straight. Even his sobs have lost their ardent zeal, with only a whimper sounding every now and then. The time seems to stretch into an endless span, but it’s barely been five minutes.

Alessandro deals the cards again. Rocco sways in the chair and then falls forward, his head hitting the wooden surface of the table. Cards scatter around, hitting the floor one by one. Alessandro takes the gun and grabs Rocco by the hair, pulling his head up.

“Game over, motherfucker.” He fires the gun, the bullet striking its mark in the center of Rocco’s face.

Blood and brain matter spray out of the back, covering everything in a grisly mess.

Alessandro lets go of Rocco’s head, and it falls back down onto the wooden coffee table. The last card left on the table slips down and slowly flips in the air before it lands on the puddle of blood by Alessandro’s foot. The ace of hearts.

I leave my hiding spot behind the bookshelf and take a step into the room. Alessandro looks up, his body coming to an abrupt halt the moment he notices me. The front of his shirt is splattered with blood and there is some on his face and right hand, too.