ACT like a killer. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? What all profilers were trained to do? Well, he could certainly do that – better than anyone dare imagine. He had great talents. Skills people still needed to recognize.
Creed wiped coffee from his lips, but his smile still lingered, and so did his own strange thoughts and fantasies.
7
Hotel Le Sirenuse, Positano Damn Don Fredo! May his soul rot in hell! Bruno Valsi slapped a hand against the wall of the hotel's honeymoon suite.
The old man was cleverer than he'd given him credit for. Elevation to the rank of Capo Zona was generous repayment for the loyalty he'd shown. But having Sal the Snake forced upon him – well, that was something else. It was humiliation. It was distrust. It was an insidious way of controlling him. It was damned clever.
'Bruno. Is that you?' called a hopeful voice from the bedroom of the luxury suite. As a teenager, Valsi had taken up with the young and plain-looking Gina Finelli. He'd done it purely as a way of ingratiating himself with her father, perhaps getting a little work, some protection in his life. Then Gina's accidental pregnancy had changed things. The obligatory wedding that followed proved a blessing in disguise and Valsi's ambitions vaulted. But now – to be honest – the Don's daughter was another problem he could well do without. What little feelings he'd had for her had disappeared as surely as her waistline had vanished during his years inside. He couldn't believe how she'd piled on the pounds.
A woman's disrespect for her body is disrespect for her husband.
The bedroom lights were out and the room was lit only by the flicker of candlelight. Enzo was sleeping in an adjoining suite with his nanny and a bodyguard ouside the door. Gina was reclining against a mountain of cushions and pillows on the bed. 'Did it go well for you?' Her voice was soft and calm.
'Well enough,' said Valsi coolly. He swept his jacket around the back of a chair, like a matador swirling a cape around a bull, then sat on the edge of the bed to untie his shoelaces. 'Your father, he sees fit to give me my own crew, but then he as good as tells everyone that he has me on a lead and that Salvatore – his trusted, thick-headed Salvatore – will walk me like a young pup that doesn't yet know when to bark or when to sit.'
Gina grimaced. This wasn't what she'd hoped for. For five years she'd faithfully waited for this night, for the very moment her husband would return to her bed. She'd not only personally chosen the suite, but the red and pink silk lingerie she wore had been specially made for her. No woman alive could have tried harder, or been more nervous about creating exactly the right mood for them to restart their marriage.
Valsi stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the chair. He stood to undo his belt and could feel her eyes trace the sculpted muscles of his shoulders, chest and abdomen. He slid off his pants and folded them, as he'd done every night in his cell. Gina could see that his thighs bulged from endless squats performed in the prison gym.
'Let me help you,' she said, a girlish lightness in her voice as her fingers slid around the waistband of his Calvin's.
'Let me piss.' Valsi brushed her hand away.
He left her stranded on the edge of the bed. Her outstretched arms still held the air where he'd been. Her eyes followed him to the bathroom. He walked like a panther, taut and muscular, dangerous and exotic. She ached to dig her nails into his skin and feel the rush of him inside her. He was back, and she wanted him again. 'Uncle Sal really likes you,' she called, hoping to lift his mood.
'He's not your uncle. Why do you call him that?' Valsi urinated noisily as he spoke.
Gina picked at her fingernails. 'He's like an uncle. He's been around my family since I was a young kid.'
'So has the mailman. Maybe you should call him uncle too.'
Gina tried to stay positive. 'Maybe it is good that my father wants Sal to look out for you. Maybe this is a good thing?'
'And maybe not. Maybe it is a stupid and dangerous thing.' He flushed the toilet. 'Maybe it is the worst thing that could be done to me – and maybe your father knows that.' He stepped into the shower. Enough of the maybes. His wife and her bed could wait. He had no desire to be with her.
At Poggioreale, showers were dangerous places. Places where people got fucked in the ass. Places where people got knifed and killed. Places you were never safe. Now, he stood under the steaming waterfall, trying to relax, trying to clear his mind. One question bothered him more than most: How long can I stand living with this fat bitch?
Eyes closed, head tilted back, he turned up the heat but still couldn't soak the smell of Poggioreale from his pores nor banish the jail's demons from his memory. Prison didn't just affect you, it seeped through your skin and twisted itself into your DNA. It altered you forever.
Valsi felt edgy. Permanently edgy. One blink away from an outburst of violence.
He pulled on a white towelling robe and struggled to get used to its softness as he headed to the bedroom.
Could he fuck her? Should he fuck her? Hell, did he even need to bother with this shit?
Gina sensed his dark mood. 'You look tired, baby, come here and let me look after you.' She pulled back the crisp white bed linen so he could slip in beside her.
Valsi could smell the sheets, sharp and fresh with a tang of lemon. Again this unaccustomed luxury rankled. He sat on the edge of the bed. He and his wife were only inches apart, but there may as well have been miles between them. 'We need to talk.' He bowed his head and focused on the strange-smelling sheets. 'I don't want there to be any confusion about how things are between us.'
She reached out to take his hand. Wanted him to know that she understood his awkwardness. Valsi moved it away.
He had made up his mind that he was going to put the record straight, lay down the new rules, right from the start. 'Gina, I think you know I will always be a good father to Enzo, and I will always provide for you and for my son.'
His wife smiled. 'I know you will, Bruno. You are a good man and we both love you so much…'
'Let me finish!' His dark eyes grew wide and cold. 'We both know that a marriage is forever. But you have become a fat ugly woman while I have been in prison. So fat that you sicken me. Have you looked at yourself?'
Gina was shocked.
She knew she wasn't the shape she'd been when he was arrested, but surely she didn't deserve this? The rejection stung. She pulled the covers up over her arms, an involuntary sign of retreat that she hated as soon as she realized she'd done it.
'Yes, please do that. Cover yourself up, you disgust me. Chiattona.' Valsi contemptuously flicked the rest of the covers up at her.
Gina's temper snapped. No one insulted her like that. 'How dare you fucking speak to me like this!' She jumped out of the bed and stood right up close to him. 'Who the hell do you think -'
Valsi grabbed her face. The fingers of his right hand dug into her skin as he squeezed hard. 'Shut the fuck up and listen. And don't talk back to me.' He pushed her on to the bed.
Gina sprang at him. Inches from his face. Her eyes flashed defiance. 'Don't you ever touch me! You bastard! You so much as lay a fucking finger on me and my father will kill you.'
Valsi laughed at her. Laughed and then slapped her with the back of his hand. A hard flat blow across her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her. She doubled up over the bed and wheezed to catch her breath.
'Have you learned nothing from the last time I had to punish you? Are you now stupid as well as fat and ugly?'
Gina's pain was deep and dull. The blow ached all the way through to her spine. She struggled to breathe.
Valsi sat down and leaned over her. 'Your father has just promoted me, made me Capo Zona. He's done that because he fears me and respects me. Now is the time for you to be a good daughter and wife and respect him and fear me as well. Because if you cause any problems between us, if you become a scissionista, then you could end up getting both yourself and your father killed. You understand what I mean, don't you?'