Under the Sicilian Sky Page 18

  Truth was, every muscle in his body screamed with pain and his lungs still wheezed like they were full of water. He’d do it all again, though, to save the girl and have Bella at his side.

  The police officer placed a recording device on the bedside table. “Signor Vanni, this conversation will be recorded and may be used in court.”

  Batista Preatori nodded. “I have a signed document from the Guardia di Finanza that, in exchange for this testimony, Mario Barilla will not be linked to this statement. We can’t rescind the charges against Matteo Vanni without alerting Roberto Della Vedova that he is under investigation. However, as long as you continue to use your assumed name you should be safe from extradition. I still advise you against returning to Italy until this is all resolved.”

  Matteo glanced over at Bella, who sat on the end of the bed, opposite side to the plainclothes law enforcement official and the lawyer. “What about my wife? Can she return? She has a farm and businesses in Sicily.” She’d left it all for him. And despite her reassurances that she didn’t regret walking away from everything she’d created, once the shock wore off from yesterday’s events, she might feel differently.

  “Angela and Tony have agreed to look after things for as long as I want. I don’t need to return any time soon,” Bella said.

  “I have a suggestion in that regard,” Batista said. “But first, let’s get your statement down so the inspector can be on his way.”

  The police officer pressed play on the machine and asked each of them to state their name and nationality for the record. He then administered an oath to Matteo, requiring him to tell the truth on penalty of prosecution. “Bene. Now, Signor Vanni, please recount exactly what occurred on the day you disappeared.”

  “I went down to the docks to barter for some fish. When I arrived, most of the boats were out, but one, the Naiadi, was still in port. Stefano Pirlo, Ciro De Rossi, and Leonardo Insigne were on deck. I knew all three from school. I asked if they had any fish for sale, and they replied they were just heading out. It did seem odd to me because most of the boats went out early and returned about that time, but I knew very little about fishing so didn’t question them. I remember thinking, however, that if I went with them and helped on the boat, they might give me a fish or two for free. I had no money at the time.” He glanced over at Bella. Did she still feel guilty for asking him for a change in their diet?

  “They huddled together for a minute,” he continued, “and I thought they were about to refuse. I said I was strong and could help, so they agreed that I could go with them. We set out around 3:00 p.m. and went south at high speed. After about an hour, I asked when we were going to put down the nets and they just laughed. I was annoyed because I’d hoped to be back by suppertime and now that didn’t look likely.”

  He started to cough and Bella handed him a glass of water. It was remembering his stupidity that clogged his throat.

  “Eventually, about two hours after we left port we slowed down. We couldn’t have been far from the Tunisian coast, as I could see land on the horizon. Again I asked about lowering the nets, and Stefano handed me a fishing rod, pointed to the bait box, and told me to ‘knock myself out.’ I already knew I was in trouble, that this was not a fishing trip, before the sound of another boat reached my ears.” He paused, letting the memory settle.

  “Can you describe this other vessel? Where did it come from? Who was aboard?” the inspector asked.

  “It was a large inflatable with three men on board, all armed with machine guns. In the middle were about ten wooden crates.”

  “Did you recognize any of the men?”

  “No, they all wore masks, and by that point I knew I was in deep shit and didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. In fact, I hid in the cabin the entire time they transferred the cargo to the fishing boat.” A trickle of perspiration edged down his spine as he relived the moment when he’d heard the outboard motor start again and he didn’t have a bullet in him. He’d finally been able to breathe. If he’d known that was to be the least of his problems, he would have jumped overboard right then.

  “Did they say anything? Think hard.” The inspector leaned closer, his eyes searching Matteo’s. “Would you be able to recognize the voices?”

  “No. No one said much and even that was spoken in a whisper. I think all parties knew what they were there for. It seemed to me it wasn’t the first time they’d done this.”

  The inspector nodded. “How long did the exchange take?”

  “Less than ten minutes. After the inflatable left, Ciro turned the boat back toward Sicily and gunned the engine.”

  “The Tunisian Coast Guard never approached? Or any aircraft fly low overhead?”

  “No. As I learned after waking up in a hospital in Tunis, the country was in the midst of the Arab Spring uprising. An aircraft carrier probably could have docked a hundred meters off shore and they wouldn’t have had the manpower to investigate.”

  The inspector nodded. “How far did you travel back toward Italy?”

  “About halfway then another boat approached. This one was fiberglass, about twenty feet long and it had a light rack above the wheel and official-looking insignia. I could tell from the body language of the other men that this was bad news. They talked about throwing the cargo overboard, but before they could do it the boat was nearly alongside. That’s when Leonardo said, ‘It’s okay, it’s Roberto. Stop the boat.’”

  “What did you do?”

  “Aside from crap my pants? I moved to the far side of the boat. As the other vessel approached, I could see two men in uniform aboard. One was Roberto Della Vedova, the other I don’t know.”

  “And how did Stefano, Ciro, and Leonardo react to this new arrival? Did they seem nervous?”

  “They were a bit confused. They kept asking each other if the exchange was going to take place here and weren’t they supposed to take the cargo to the regular drop point? No matter what was going down, I knew I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. Either the men on the other boat were real cops and I was about to be arrested for smuggling, or they were in on the deal and I was going to be eliminated because I knew too much. The best I could hope for was that I’d be blackmailed into joining their crew.” He closed his eyes for a second. The overwhelming sense of failing Bella and his father flooded his system once again, taking his breath.

  Bella moved to sit beside him and ran her hand up and down his arm. He took a moment to stare into her eyes, which were awash with tears. He’d thought that day that he’d never see her again. Even with her inches from him, the same sinking desperation filled him. “I love you,” she whispered in English, faint enough that the recording device would be hard pressed to pick it up. Peace washed over him as his heart swelled with love. He prayed this utter contentment never ended.

  “What happened?” The inspector’s impatient voice brought him back to the present.

  “I slipped over the side of the boat near the front and held onto the rubber dock bumper hanging on the side. From the reflection in the glass window I could see what was happening on the rear deck. The two boats were tied together and Roberto told the others to transfer the cargo to his boat. When Ciro questioned him on the change in plans, he said, ‘I’m the boss. Just do as I say.’ They moved it all onto the police boat. As they were lifting the last box, I heard Leonardo comment that maybe they’d been discovered and Roberto was taking the load so he could claim he’d confiscated it.”

  The inspector made a few notes on a piece of paper then motioned for Matteo to continue. “To confirm, all the cargo was loaded onto Roberto Della Vedova’s boat?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did the three men die?”

  Matteo swallowed. Even six years later the memory sickened him. “Roberto Della Vedova took the automatic rifle from the man with him and shot them in the head.”

  “Roberto Della Vedova himself killed them?” At Matteo’s nod, the inspector continued, “And you will te
stify to that in court? You could clearly see this from the side of the boat?”

  Matteo glanced at Bella. If Della Vedova was part of the Cosa Nostra crime group, testifying would be risky. While it could clear the Vanni name, it might never be safe for him, or Bella, to return to Italy. “The mirror in the cabin reflected on the window above my head. I know what I saw. As for testifying, at this point it would be my word against his and he’s an officer of the law. If you had other evidence . . . ”

  “We’re working on it,” Batista said. “Did anyone say anything about what type of cargo it was or where it was going or coming from?”

  “It was guns. Ciro popped open a crate and inspected one, showing the others. I don’t know where they were coming from, and all they said about destination was the cove near Sovareto.”

  The inspector nodded. “When the other men were shot by Della Vedova how did you survive?” Was there a hint of suspicion in the inspector’s voice?

  “The man with Della Vedova threw Stefano, Ciro, and Leonardo’s bodies overboard. Then he was told to put the boat’s engines on full, heading back south. The man asked how he was supposed to get off and Della Vedova said to jump overboard and he’d pick him up. When he went into the cabin, I tried to get the dock bumper unhooked, knowing I was about to be dragged at high speed, but I only managed to get one rope free.”

  “Did this other man make it off the boat?”

  “I have no idea. As soon as the boat started to move, I concentrated all my energy on hanging on. I couldn’t see anything because of the spray. I could barely even breathe, and I was continually smashing against the side of the boat. That must be how I was concussed and lost my memory. Eventually, the other line holding the bumper snapped and I was free of the boat but adrift in the sea. Della Vedova’s boat was nowhere to be seen. The next thing I knew, I woke in a Tunis hospital.”

  The inspector wrote down a few more notes then stared hard at Matteo. “Anything else?”

  He shook his head and sucked in a quick breath at the piercing pain. Talking so long had given him a massive headache and his chest felt heavy. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple despite the air conditioning.

  “That’s enough,” Bella said, standing. “Matteo needs to rest.”

  “Sì, we’re done.” The inspector picked up the recording device and stood.

  “I need a brief word with my client,” Batista said, also standing.

  Bella shot him a look and he took a step back.

  “Two minutes, I promise,” the lawyer said, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture.

  She gave him the stink eye but turned toward the inspector. “There are some refreshments ready downstairs. We can wait for Signor Preatori in the courtyard.” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Two minutes.”

  His overprotective wife left with the police officer, and Matteo closed his eyes for a second. Dio, he was tired.

  But soon Bella would return and all he’d feel was loved. He just hoped she answered yes to the two most important questions he had to ask.

  • • •

  Bella slipped into the bedroom. Surely, Matteo must have fallen asleep by now. Batista had appeared downstairs within the allotted two minutes, but she’d stayed to have a cold drink with both men before seeing them out the door.

  “Bellissima, come lie next to me,” Matteo said, his voice husky—whether with exhaustion or desire, she wasn’t going to guess. Probably a bit of both.

  She searched his face for sign of fever. The doctor had warned that with the amount of salt water he’d had in his lungs, they needed to watch for infection. “You should be sleeping. I noticed you rubbing your temples earlier. Do you want your headache pills?”

  “In a minute. First I want to hold you.”

  The reassurance of his arms around her was exactly what she needed as well. She’d woken several times with nightmares of him disappearing beneath the waves and never surfacing. Her heart had stalled until she nestled against his chest and heard his beating solidly against her ear.

  She snuggled next to him, careful not to knock his legs, which he’d told her earlier still throbbed with muscle spasms. “What did Batista have to say?”

  Matteo paused, and she held her breath. What could be worse than being wanted by both the police and the mafia? “He warned me there’s a possibility I may never have my name cleared. I may never be able to return to Italy,” he said.

  She sat up so she could see his face and gently caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry, Matteo. It must be dreadful to think you can never go to your homeland.”

  “You are my home, Bella. If I’m with you, I have no need for any other place.”

  He pulled her head down for a kiss so full of love she had to blink back the moisture in her eyes. She’d love this man till the day she died. And quite possibly beyond.

  “Does that mean I can’t go back to Sicily either? I’m okay with giving up the day-to-day running of the farm, but I’d like to think that one day our children will at least be able to visit their heritage.”

  “Our children? Are you . . . ” The excitement that lit his eyes was so bright she hated to dim it.

  “No. Not yet. But I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s have a baby, Matteo.”

  “I’d like that, too. First though, Batista suggests you officially divorce Matteo Vanni and wed Mario Barilla. That way, you’ll be able to reenter Sicily and check on the farm whenever you need to.”

  She cocked her head to one side while she considered the plan. “One problem. I don’t recall Mario Barilla asking me to marry him. Do I have to run him off the road as well?”

  “Ha! So you finally admit the accident was your fault.” A full-blown smile lifted Matteo’s lips.

  Bella ran her hands up his chest and down his arms until their fingers laced together.

  “The recording device is gone, and I don’t recall admitting anything of the sort,” she replied.

  He rubbed the back of her hand across his cheek, rough from a day’s stubble. “Let’s skip the car-tractor crash this time and claim the escape on a camel as our story.” He let go of her hand and reached over to pull a small box out of the bedside drawer. “Excuse me if I don’t get down on one knee. I’m not sure I can get up again.” He raised her left hand and kissed her ring finger. “Bella Maria Vanni, will you marry me?” He removed a ring from the box and slid it onto the appropriate finger.

  She had to blink away the tears. “My ring. I mean the Vanni ring. How did you get it back?”

  “Nothing’s impossible if you want it badly enough. And I want you, Bella, as my wife, forever.”

  There was no stopping the tears now. It was only a piece of metal and stone, but it meant so much more. “You have me. Always. Forever.” She punctuated each word with a heartfelt kiss. No matter what happened, they’d make it work.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “That’s a hell yes.” She moved in to kiss him but stopped inches from his lips. “Can I still call you Matteo when we make love?”

  “Tesori, when we make love, you can call me anything you want.”

  Their lips joined and soon she had trouble remembering her own name. As Matteo dragged in a breath he wheezed, and she pulled away. She was supposed to be nursing him back to health, not leading him to an early—albeit with a smile on his face—grave.

  As she snuggled next to him, Matteo wrapped his arms around her. “I know you like to be busy,” he said, his lips against her forehead, “so in addition to being Signora Barilla and the mother of my children, I’m hoping you’ll also be the education director for the charity that oversees the improvements to the villages we work with. It will be your responsibility to decide when the schools are built and hire the staff, etc.”

  “Really?” That set off the waterworks again. She was so happy she could barely speak.

  “Bella, talk to me. If it’s not something you want to do . . . ” The anguish in his voice stung.

  She sa
t up. “It’s everything I want to do. Travel with you, be at your side, help those children. It’s an amazing opportunity. Thank you.”

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. Playful Matteo was back in his eyes. “You do realize, however, that I will be your boss and you’ll have to do as I say?”

  Her laugh ended on a hiccup. “Oh, amore. You know that’s not how it’s going to work.”

  “Yes, but it was worth a shot.” His gorgeous smile released one of her own.

  “Keep dreaming, Matteo.”

  “With you in my arms, I already am.”

  Turn the page for an excerpt from

  Her Faux Fiancé

  Chapter 1

  Erik sped down the highway on autopilot. After 120 kilometers of farmers’ fields, there wasn’t much to attract his attention. His right foot eased off the accelerator as he approached the town limits. He slowed even more when he saw a silver SUV stopped in front of the welcome sign. His mind absently registered the rental sticker on the vehicle. Must be a lost tourist. Although there weren’t many visitors who bothered to come this deep into the Canadian prairie.

  An urbanite for the past decade, his every-man-for-himself thinking told him to keep driving. Another fifteen minutes and he’d be at his grandparents’ farm. Quarter of an hour and he could relax with a beer after the two-day drive from Toronto.

  The prairie boy in him, however, wouldn’t let him drive past. “Help a neighbor in need” had been drummed into him for too long to ignore. Perhaps they’d run out of gas, underestimating the distance between towns. He pulled up behind the vehicle and shut off his own engine.

  He expected the SUV’s occupant to emerge from the vehicle, but when no one appeared, he hesitated. Maybe they were sick. Erik glanced at his cell phone. No service. If they were ill, he’d have to drive them to the hospital himself. He grabbed the mini first-aid kit from the glove box and raced over to the driver’s-side window. A petite woman sat there with her head on the steering wheel. When she didn’t notice him, he rapped on the window.