Mafia Kings: Valentino: Dark Mafia Romance Series #6

I went back to the kitchen and got an old wine bottle filled with cold water. It was a hot summer’s day, and I didn’t want to walk ten miles round trip without something to drink.

I ambled around the property for almost an hour, trying to make it look like I was lost in thought.

The point was to see if any of the foot soldiers were watching.

None of them paid me the slightest attention, so I headed for the ruins Ludavica had pointed out.

It was an old farmhouse made of stone, long since abandoned and caved in. Vines had covered the walls, and birds nested in what was left of the wooden rafters.

In the distance, Don Vicari’s compound looked like a dollhouse.noveldrama

I waited on the opposite side of the ruins, waiting to see if someone would come after me –

But no one did.

So I kept walking.

I ambled through fields of grain and over hills until I reached a hilltop, just like Ludavica had said.

Down in the valley was a tiny village. Maybe a hundred small buildings.

And there, about a quarter mile from the village, was a tiny chapel. I could tell by the cross on the roof.

That’s what I headed for.

As I got closer, my heart beat faster and faster. I was nearly overcome with nervousness.

It felt like I was getting close to the actual, real beginning of my life –

IF she shows up.

I wasn’t much of a praying man, but I prayed to God that Cat would be there.

I finally reached the chapel. It stood alone in a field, with an ancient graveyard off to the side filled with weathered tombstones.

The chapel itself was small, maybe 40 feet wide by 80 feet long, with a cross on the top and a small bell tower on the back.

The doors were all wood – dark, weathered brown with iron door knockers.

There were stone steps up to the main door. I walked up and tugged at the handle.

Surprisingly, the door was open. Or maybe not surprisingly at all. It was a house of God out in the middle of nowhere; maybe it was open at all hours to anyone who needed Him.

I opened the door and walked inside. I’d expected it to be dark inside, but there was a beautiful stained glass window of Christ on the cross. People I assumed were Mary and several apostles looked up at him in anguish.

The sunlight filtered through the glass, turning everything in the chapel to red, orange, and yellow.

The walls were lined with faded tapestries of the stations of the cross. Other than those and a few small statues of saints, there wasn’t much decoration.

The floors were polished wood. Ten rows of uncomfortable-looking, rough-hewn pews lined a central aisle.

The altar was a podium on top of a short, raised platform with steps leading up to it.

To the left of the platform was a table with dozens of small candles. After a thousand people lighting and praying over them, the melted wax had covered every inch of the surface.

Directly to my right, there was a wooden confessional booth with two chambers: one for the priest and the other for the person confessing. Both doors were closed.

The air was still and smelled like ancient wood and candle wax.

Everything was as silent as a tomb.

So far as I could tell, no one had been in here for days.

I looked at my watch.

11:57 AM.

“Caterina?” I called out quietly.

There was a slight noise behind me, and my heart leapt.

I turned to see her in the doorway of the church.

“Val,” she said as she gave me a soft, sad smile.