The Mafia Trilogy by Jonas Saul Read Free Book Online Page B

stayed behind to help her man.
     
    Her man. Her new husband. She couldn’t let him face this alone. Not after all they’d been through together. Years of fighting with their parents and their stupid, old-world customs. Her mother saying she should marry an Italian boy. His father saying he needed a nice Greek woman. Neither side not backing down. Her mother’s reaction had especially disappointed her. Rosina had expected better.
     
    So Darwin had proposed the idea to elope to Rome. Get married in Rome as a show of respect to her family and honeymoon in Greece as a show of respect to his father. Deal with the repercussions later.
     
    But now look at them. On the run, with someone trying to kill them, according to Darwin. Ridiculous. Everyone died that fateful night at the hangar. No one was alive to see Darwin hit that man. Besides, the guy was insane. How did he think he could kill that many people and expect to live?
     
    What did her husband ever do? Accident , by definition, meant not intentional . He didn’t mean it. Darwin didn’t aim his Ford at the guy.
     
    Rosina shook her head and looked out her window at the traffic rushing by the other way. She wiped at her eyes and took in a deep breath.
     
    She would need to talk to somebody. The cops? The bad guys?
     
    Who were they anyway? How could she find them?
     
    She had no idea how things worked, nor did she want to know. She just wanted her husband back and she would do anything for him. Even risk staying in Rome and not running to Greece.
     
    She’d waited too long to find the man of her dreams. She’d lost control, running around, laughing and screaming, when he came up with the idea to run to Rome. His book sales had shot through the stratosphere in the last two months after the news had labeled him the Hero of the Hangar . His picture ran in every newspaper across North America, detailing how he accidentally killed a mafia killer, with an American Ford Mustang. One sleazy paper even asked, was there any other way to deal with vermin?
     
    The bus’s engine revved and the driver angled the bus closer to the railing at the median.
     
    It took him a few minutes, but then the bus passed the accident. Rosina stretched in order to see out the window and tried to catch a look at the vehicle, but from her side, she only saw the top of the vehicle, which lay on its side door.
     
    She eased back down and wondered what had happened to Darwin. Why couldn’t he be honest with her? Was it because he knew this is how she would respond? Did he know her that well already?
     
    If so, she didn’t know him well enough. She should’ve figured out what was bothering him lately. She had noticed that he was out of sorts, but she didn’t push harder to find out why. Also, she couldn’t figure it out on her own when she should have.
     
    Whatever happened in the next few days, Rosina would stand by her man. She would be there for him at all costs whether he liked it or not. It was the Italian way. It was her way.
     
    Then, maybe, her parents would accept their relationship.
     
    She’d show them. No one would push her around. People weren’t really out there killing each other. Life wasn’t an 1800s western with everyone and their neighbor toting guns and shooting each other.
     
    Sure, there was crime. But there were laws and people couldn’t kill with impunity. She was in a civilized country, her ancestor’s country, and she would see any perpetrators of illegal activities put behind bars.
     
    Worst case, she’d walk into the Canadian Embassy and demand her rights as a citizen of one of the best countries in the world. That would be better than calling local authorities. Who knew how many were paid off.
     
    Maybe that’s what she should do in the first place. Just go to the embassy and explain to them what was happening. Show them Darwin’s note. See what they could do.
     
    No, first, she’d head back to the Hotel Luigi and get a room. She couldn’t make