Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I cut the thread and saw traces of blood along the cuts, but it never overflowed.
“Looks like you’re going to live, Mattia,” Leo said.
“Then can I get some painkillers like Alfonso?” he asked in a tired voice.
“Sure, why not?” I nodded to Leo to get another IV pole.
Leo ran off.
I ripped off the gloves then disposed of all the bloody materials in the trash. I came to my father’s side to look at Alfonso, who was already starting to look better, despite how tired he seemed.
“You think he’ll make it?” My father turned to look at me.
“About eighty percent,” I said. “He’ll need to get that bullet removed at the hospital, though. Could turn into an infection.”
“You know they can’t go to the hospital, so just give him the antibiotics now.”
Instead of sighing and arguing, I went into the other room where the fridge was stored and pulled out the bag of antibiotics before I added it to the pole.
My father shared some words with Mattia before he came back to me. “You have the hands of God, Frankie. I would have lost way more men if it weren’t for you.” He looked at me the way he looked at Leo and his other favorites, with a fatherly look of pride. Then he placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You aren’t on the front lines, but you’re definitely one of us—and I’m proud to call you my daughter.”
I worked in the kitchen with the staff to prepare dinner, the purpose to boost the morale of the men. My father’s vineyard was expansive, covering five square miles. He housed some of the men in homes on the property in lieu of payment for work. They also provided security and protection for the estate. A large stone wall surrounded the property along the roads, but in the rear, there was nothing stopping someone from walking directly onto the vineyards. But they would only be able to get there on horseback, so it was unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely.
My father referred to all the men as family, and sometimes it really felt that way, especially tonight when we had to cook for a hundred hungry men after a long day of working in the vineyard or pushing his weapons into the hands of dealers and exporters. The wine and olive oil we made were superb, but sometimes, we shipped olive oil bottles that were filled with coke instead. Easier to ship because it weighed the same whether it was filled with olive oil or powder. The wine business allowed my father to have friendships with the restaurants and store owners throughout Sicily, as well as international friendships with the United States and South America, where he got most of his product.
I wasn’t sure when I realized my father was a criminal kingpin. It seemed like I’d always known.
I helped the women prepare the pasta and the sauce on the stove, along with the cannoli that would be served after dinner. I knew my father paid his men who lived off-site well, and these dinners were more of a bonus. I was on the payroll as well, getting paid for my medical expertise and given accommodations farther up the hill. It was a nice house, newly renovated but preserving its Sicilian soul.
I left the kitchen and headed outside onto the patio, the white lights strung overhead, with two long tables that accommodated fifty men each. Wine bottles were everywhere, the men drinking the batches from the grapes picked from our vines. My father sat at the head of the table, his jawline dark and covered in hair from his thick beard. He’d had me when he was very young, so he was still youthful, younger than most of the men who worked for him. He had been just twenty years old when I was born, and after my mother was killed, he raised me on his own. Now he was forty-six, but he still looked like he was in his late thirties.
We were close, to say the least.
I walked over to him. “The bread is coming out. Dinner will be ready momentarily.”
He sat at the head of the table, Leo on his left and Elio, one of his closest captains, on his right. A lit cigar sat between his fingertips, and he wore a collared black shirt. He had been relaxed in the chair a moment ago, but he straightened when I spoke to him. “Thank you, Frankie.”
I turned away.
He gave a quick whistle, something he’d done since I was a little girl, like he was calling a horse, and it made me halt.
He nodded to Thomas, who sat on the other side of Elio. “Find another seat. Elio, move over.”
“Dad, it’s no problem. There’s plenty of room in the house.”