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  REVENGE

  BLOOD AND HONOR

  BOOK 1

  DANA DELAMAR

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 Dana Delamar

  Excerpt from Deadly Obsession copyright © 2012 Kristine Cayne

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13 (ebook): 978-0-9849311-1-8

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book cover design by Scarlett Rugers Design 2011

  www.scarlettrugers.com

  Cover photo courtesy of:

  disney-stock.deviantart.com/art/Epcot-Italy-at-Night-2-110476297

  Author image courtesy of LGImages

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many people contributed to the creation of this book. No writer goes it alone, and I am certainly no exception.

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank my wonderful critique partner, Kristine Cayne, who read every word of this book multiple times and poured her time and attention into the shaping of it, down to individual word choices. Kristine, I couldn’t have done this without you. You are the best!

  Ann Charles and Wendy Delaney came to the rescue when I was floundering about and needed help replotting this book. Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving up part of a weekend to help me.

  The amazingly generous Delilah Marvelle also helped me with plot pointers and an early critique that was instrumental to reshaping some characters and scenes. Thank you, sweetie!

  I’d also like to thank my beta readers, Kim Schmeller and Ninia Ingram, for their insights, comments, and catches. You suffered so others don’t have to.

  Getting started on this journey was tough; without the help and support of Romance Writers of America® and specifically my hometown RWA® chapters, Eastside RWA and Greater Seattle RWA, I would have struggled for many more years toward my dreams. These organizations provided inspiration, support, guidance, friendship, real-world craft advice, and industry contacts and knowledge that proved invaluable. Thank you all.

  Last but not least, I’d like to thank my family, my friends (especially David Shank for giving me the push to get the hell out of software and start my second career), and most of all my real-life hero, James Davis, for bearing with me during the madness and putting together an awesome home office for me. You will always be my honey bunny.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Enrico Lucchesi (loo KAY zee) – capo (head) of the Lucchesi cosca (crime family)

  Kate Andretti – wife of Vincenzo (Vince) Andretti

  Domenico (Dom) Lucchesi – first cousin to Enrico Lucchesi and capo di società (second in command) of the Lucchesi cosca

  Carlo Andretti – capo of the Andretti cosca (Milan branch)

  Vincenzo (vin CHEN zoh) (Vince) Andretti – nephew of Carlo Andretti

  Antonio Legato – bodyguard to Enrico Lucchesi

  Ruggero (rooj JAIR oh) Vela – bodyguard to Enrico Lucchesi

  Rinaldo Lucchesi – Enrico Lucchesi’s father; former capo

  Dario Andretti – son of Carlo Andretti and capo di società of the Andretti cosca

  Vittorio Battista – godfather to Enrico and Dom Lucchesi; second in command of La Provincia (quasi-ruling commission of the ‘Ndrangheta, the Calabrian mafia)

  Silvio Fuente – officer of the carabinieri

  Benedetto Andretti – brother of Carlo Andretti; capo di società of the Andretti cosca (Calabrian branch); head of La Provincia

  GLOSSARY OF TERMS

  arrivederci (ah ree vah DAIRT chee) – goodbye (formal)

  basta (BAS tah) – enough (as in “I’ve had enough!”)

  bella, bellissima (BAY lah, bay LEE see mah) – beautiful

  bene (BEN ay) – good

  buona sera (BWOH nah SAIR ah) – good evening

  capisci (KAH pee shee) – you see, you understand

  capo (KAH poh) – head (don) of a crime family (cosca); plural capi (KAH pee)

  capo di società (KAH poh dee so chay TAH) – second in command of a cosca

  cara (CAR ah), caro (CAR oh) – dear, sweetheart

  carabinieri (car ah bin YAIR ee) – Italy’s national police force; a single member of this force is a carabinere (car ah bin YAIR ay)

  ciao (CHOW) – informal hello and goodbye

  come stai (COH may sty) – how are you

  comparaggio (cohm pah RAH joe) – the Southern Italian institution of co-parenthood, whereby the person making this vow swears to be as a parent to the child. A co-father is referred to as compare; the “parent” and “child” are compari. The vow is thought of as indissoluble and incorruptible. Within the Mafia, compari will not betray each other.

  contabile (cone TAH bee lay) – accountant; treasurer for a cosca

  cosca (KOHS kah) – a crime family; plural is cosche (KOHS kay)

  Cristo (KREES toe) – Christ

  Dio mio (DEE oh MEE oh) – my God

  dottore (dote TOR ay) – doctor; the “e” is dropped when used with a last name

  faida (FEYE dah) – blood feud

  figlio (FEEL yoh) – son

  grazie (GRAHTZ yeh) – thanks. Mille (MEE lay) grazie means “Many thanks.”

  Madonna (ma DOEN nah) – the Virgin Mary; Mother of God

  malavita (mah lah VEE tah) – the criminal underworld, the criminal life

  Maresciallo Capo (mar ess SHAH loh KAH poh) – Chief Marshal

  merda (MARE dah) – shit

  molto (MOLE toe) – very, a great deal, a lot

  ‘Ndrangheta (en DRAHNG eh tah) – the Calabrian Mafia, or “The Honored Society.” Members are ‘Ndranghetisti (en DRAHNG eh tees tee), or “men of honor.”

  nonna (NOHN nah) – grandmother

  padrino (pah DREE noh) – godfather

  papà (pah PAH) – dad

  per favore (pair fah VOR ay) – please

  perfetto (pair FEHT toe) – perfect

  polizia (poh leet TZEE ah) – Italian police

  prego (PRAY go) – welcome

  puttana (poot TAH nah) – whore, prostitute

  salute (sah LOO tay) – to your health; cheers!

  scusa (SKOOZ ah) – excuse me

  sì (cee) – yes

  signore, signora, signorina (seen YOR ay, seen YOR ah, seen yor REEN ah) – sir, madam, miss; the “e” is dropped from signore when used with a last name

  Sottotenente (soh toh teh NEN tay) – Second Lieutenant

  strega (STRAY gah) – witch

  ti amo (tee AH moe) – I love you

  troia (TROY ah) – slut

  vaffanculo (vahf fahn COO loh) – go fuck yourself

  zio (ZEE oh) – uncle

  PROLOGUE

  Twenty-eight years ago

  Cernobbio, Lake Como, Italy

  As his assassins set the trap, Carlo Andretti leaned forward, his nose nearly touching the window. Vengeance is mine. Just like the Lord above. His pulse quickened, his mouth went dry, his body itched to be in on the action. To aim a gun. To pull a trigger.

  The Lucchesi family’s d
river and their bodyguard waited outside the restaurant in a large black Mercedes, smoke from their cigarettes floating out the open windows. Idiots. Anyone could get the drop on them. These were the men Lucchesi trusted with his family?

  Bruno, the man Carlo used for all his dirty work, snuck up behind the car, followed by one of his assistants. The two men dispatched the guard and driver without effort, slitting their throats in tandem, the strike perfectly timed.

  Sipping an espresso in a room across the street, Carlo watched his men melt back into the dark. It wouldn’t be long now until they attacked their true prey. He savored the hot bitter brew he swallowed. Rinaldo Lucchesi, the capo of the Lucchesi family, had interfered in Carlo’s business for the last time. He thought he could come up north, into Carlo’s territory, and impose his principles and his will.

  Rinaldo and his ridiculous, short-sighted philosophy would be the ruin of the ‘Ndrangheta. Carlo was not going to let Lucchesi expose their bellies to the sharp teeth of Cosa Nostra or the Russians. Lucchesi might be suicidal, but Carlo most assuredly was not. He had a family to look out for, a child he adored. He couldn’t let Lucchesi destroy her future, and he couldn’t let him destroy the future of all ‘Ndrangheta.

  Taking Carlo’s son hostage to force him to capitulate was where Lucchesi had miscalculated. He’d taken the wrong child. In a contest between Dario and Antonella, Toni won every time. Had Lucchesi taken Toni…. Carlo’s gut quivered. Everyone would know his weakness then. He’d make any sacrifice for his tigress, his cunning little she-wolf. The child of his heart. The child who was his heart.

  If Toni knew he was risking her twin brother’s life this way, she’d be appalled. But if his plan worked, he’d have the boy, his vengeance, and the way clear in the north. Milan and the lake would be his alone. And once their riches were his, nothing could stop him from pushing his father and his brother off their perch, high at the top of the ‘Ndrangheta. They’d censured him once, they’d exiled him up north, thinking that would keep him weak, that their lapdog Lucchesi would be able to muzzle him. They were about to learn otherwise.

  The front door to the restaurant swung open, its glass catching the light of a streetlamp, and the Lucchesi woman and two of her children strolled out, the boys flanking her on either side. Rinaldo and their middle boy, Enrico, were not with them. Unease wormed through Carlo’s belly. Where are they? He glanced around and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but the nighttime shadows could be both friend and foe.

  The woman and her boys had almost reached the Mercedes when they stopped short, the woman placing a restraining hand on the shoulder of her youngest child. The eldest son, Primo, nearly a man now, the one who was supposed to be capo someday, pulled his gun and looked in the passenger side front window. No doubt he saw the bodies, because he shouted, “Go back!”

  It was too late.

  Bruno and his four men charged toward the family, opening fire. Primo whirled around to meet them, but bullets slammed into his chest before he could get off a shot.

  Carlo felt an odd sort of admiration as the boy fell, blood blanketing his once-white shirt. Primo had tried to defend his family like a good man of honor. But the boy was ruined, his mind tainted by his father’s notions.

  None of Rinaldo’s line would survive the night. It was fitting that Lucchesi’s heir died first.

  The woman and the youngest boy, Mario, sought cover by the car. Apparently they crawled inside, since Bruno whipped his arm overhead, signaling the men to surround the Mercedes. The hit men didn’t hesitate, spraying the car with bullets. The percussive blasts of gunfire beat a joyful staccato in Carlo’s chest. How well he remembered the wild buck of a gun in his hands, the acrid smell of gunpowder, the coppery tang of blood in the air, the ringing in his ears in the wake of a kill. But he was capo now, and he had to be protected for the good of the family. Still, he missed the old days when he had administered justice firsthand.

  Mario attempted to flee through the far door onto the street. One of the shooters fired into him, not stopping until the boy’s body grew still, his head and shoulders hanging out the back door. It was a shame about this boy as well; he was a fighter.

  After slapping in a fresh clip, Bruno leaned in the car and fired a final bullet, presumably finishing off the woman. Then he walked over to Primo and shot him in the head.

  Three down. Just two more to go, and his vengeance would be complete.

  Except no one charged out of the restaurant. No more guards. And no more Lucchesis.

  Where the hell are they? This was supposed to be a rout, a decisive victory. A definitive end to the feud. And Carlo was supposed to be the victor.

  Setting his cup on the sill, he rose, peering out the window, looking up and down the street as he pushed the curtains wide. With a deafening roar in his ears, the horrible truth sprang upon him, sending his stomach plunging to the floor, the espresso threatening to come back up. Rinaldo and Enrico weren’t there and never had been. No self-respecting man of honor could stand by while his family was slaughtered.

  Carlo watched, fists curled, as Bruno and his men left the scene. They’d reconvene at the house, where it was safe to talk. Already, sirens keened in the distance, though no one had interfered during the shooting. That didn’t mean there weren’t witnesses, but he wasn’t concerned. Only someone exceedingly foolhardy would testify against the ‘Ndrangheta.

  Waiting for Bruno in his study, Carlo clipped the end off a cigar and lit it, inhaling in sharp, short puffs. Who had fucked up?

  Bruno knocked on the door, then entered. Bruno’s suit strained across his shoulders, but somehow there was a new smallness to him, a hunched quality that made Carlo’s face go hot. Along with gunpowder and fine cologne, Bruno smelled of guilt.

  “Why should I let you live?”

  The man looked at the floor, his hands jammed in his jacket pockets, his dark hair, usually carefully slicked back, now half falling in his face, hiding his eyes. “Our informant told us the entire family would be there. It was the youngest boy’s birthday.”

  “Where are Rinaldo and Enrico?”

  “At home, I assume.” Bruno glanced up. “Trying to eliminate them there would be suicide.”

  Carlo wanted to rage at the man, but a fuckup, even a monumental one, shouldn’t rattle him. He was capo; he was in charge. The men looked to him in a crisis, and if he faltered, he would be lost. They would be lost. “Hands on the desk.”

  Fear flashed through Bruno’s eyes. “Both hands?”

  “When did you become deaf?” Bruno probably thought he was going to take a few fingers, maybe one of the hands. Maybe he even feared that Carlo would take both. Smiling, Carlo picked up the cigar cutter.

  Bruno swallowed, but he didn’t beg. Good for Bruno.

  On the other hand, he’d fucked up. Bad for Bruno.

  Carlo couldn’t suffer such incompetence unchecked; it was bad for business, it was bad for discipline, and it was bad for morale. A little fear liberally applied kept the men content.

  But worst of all, Bruno had cost him probably the only opportunity he’d ever have to get rid of the Lucchesis with minimal bloodshed. Now the long bloody war between the families would continue. Carlo would lose many more men. Someone had to pay for that mistake.

  The man’s eyes followed the cigar cutter as Carlo returned it to his jacket pocket. Bruno let out a short quivering breath when the tiny guillotine disappeared. Carlo gave him a smile, a distraction. Before the man could react, Carlo pulled a gun from the same pocket and shot him in the face. Blood and brain matter and bits of bone sprayed out the back of the man’s head, then he slumped to the floor. Seeing the pool of blood spreading from the body, Carlo let out a sigh. He should have taken Bruno outside. He’d liked that carpet.

  Hell, he’d liked Bruno too, but there was no place for sentiment in this business. A capo had to hold his love close; the fewer vulnerabilities he had, the better. Loving Toni the way he did was all the risk he could afford.


  Placing the gun on the desk, he sat down and picked up the cigar, taking a long drag. He let the aromatic smoke fill his lungs, let it bring him calm. After a while, he smiled.

  It is so much sweeter this way. He picked up the phone, punching in a number he knew well. Rinaldo answered after a few rings. “There’s something I must tell you,” Carlo said.

  “Carlo? Are you ready to be reasonable now and end this trouble between us?”

  Laughter bubbled up from his gut. “Oh, I’m ending this, but not how you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me, Rinaldo, did you hear the sirens earlier?”

  Lucchesi’s voice shook with urgency. “What did you do?”

  “I’ve taken what you love most in this world. Your wife and sons. Shot down in the street outside Marinucci’s. Only one boy left. It’d be a pity to lose him too.”

  The howl of rage, of anguish, that came down the line stirred something greedy in the pit of his belly. When the howling stopped and the cursing started, Carlo broke in. “I will not be trifled with, Lucchesi. And I will never be reasonable.” He hung up, and when the phone rang, he pulled the cord from the back to silence it.

  Picking up the cigar, he took another drag. Sometimes life was very, very good.

  There was no need to send other men after Lucchesi. He’d made his point, and every other boss who thought about crossing him would think twice and repent such scheming.

  He’d sent a clear, unambiguous message: Carlo Andretti would bow to no one.

  Even if he had to leave his own boy to Rinaldo Lucchesi’s doubtful mercy.

  CHAPTER 1

  Present day

  Rome, Italy