“Depends on how willing you are to take a risk personally, or send someone into danger.”  He was watching her again, measuring her.

“Go on.”  she said flatly.

“The mission is to kill one man.  Yes?”

Tara nodded.

“Then why not hit him as you plan - with everything, and send someone to make sure the job gets done.  Someone on their own. The risk to that person is high. It’s also possible they get captured and used as leverage against us, especially if you send the wrong person, but it’s also possible one lone man going in for the kill while you come through the front might find more success.”

Tara looked back out to the kitchen and gave a nod to Laurent.  “I’ll think about it. I gotta go.” With that she walked quickly back to the dining room leaving Laurent to go into the bathroom and handle his own business.

“Welcome back!”  Jo chirped. “This wine is amazing.”  She was smiling as brightly as Brigitte might have been.  She wondered at how much the nurse had been enjoying while she was away to the restroom.

“Almost as amazing as the female company I have recently been blessed with,” added Renato with a smirk.

Tara settled back into her seat and finished her lunch, making small talk with the team and her cousins.  Her mind had wandered again and again back to Oriana. The feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of every single part of her…

“Tara?”  Mario was standing up from the table.

Tara cleared her throat and wiped her mouth.  “Sorry. Of course.” Giving a last look to Laurent she followed the Don into his office.  It was a far cry from her mother’s back in New York and only served to reinforce that she’d come here hoping for professionals but had instead found simple men.  Eager as they were to return her mother’s kindness, she wasn’t sure they could do much more than die for her.

Of course, a dark part of her mind whispered that was exactly what she needed.  Every man who took a bullet was one less bullet being shot at her and her team… or Oriana.  That she’d begun to think about how many lives were equatable to Oriana’s made Tara pause. It was a grim thought, a terrible inhuman thought and yet - what about this whole fucking situation wasn’t?  

The memory of Oriana’s kiss.  Brigitte throwing herself in the path of that monster who would have wrecked her before Ori could ever have been with her.  Her mother sending Viola to help when the woman had been responsible for killing Uncle Will. There were moments where good things happened, love was given and felt, but for the most part this entire situation was nothing but pain wrapped in pain.

The door closed behind her and she watched as Mario pulled out a map from a box behind his desk.  She walked over to him, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “How long have you been married?”  Tara asked.

The man paused and looked at Tara with a smile.  “Just over a year now. How long have you been engaged?”

Tara blinked and looked down at her hand where the ring no longer was and noted that there was still a small mark there where the ring normally rest.  “You’re very observant.”

“Well, I like to think they picked the right guy to back around here… observant is just one of the qualities that come in hand.  I have others if you stick around long enough.” He gave her a wink and rolled out the map.

“So, this should be the area your mother mentioned.”  He said pointing out the mountain. Tara leaned in and examined the terrain.  

“She said there was forest, so, how thick?  Have you been up that way before? I mean are we talking sparse hardwoods or thick brambles - your mileage isn’t the same in every forest.”

“Your mother said you were a woodsman.  Hardwoods mostly at the lower areas, it’s less dense as you go up.  Trees don’t fair well in higher elevation. There’s a road here. Bridge there…”  He pointed to the key fixtures on the map. “Possible pinch points … there and there.  Of course we’d have to make plans and that’s assuming this compound you think is up there isn’t well manned.  No way to know what’s in the woods until we get there… unless we have time to scout?”

Tara shook her head.  “I told her we’d be there at very specific time.  I can’t change our ETA. It’s just not doable. We’ll have to roll dice.”

“Well, let’s hope then that you’ve got your father’s luck.  I hear he’s pretty mean at the dicing tables?”

Tara nodded.  “He is. Luckiest bastard I’ve ever known though… it’s arguable.  Luck is maybe on both sides of the family.”

“Well then, we can hardly hope to fail.  I mean, luck on both sides of the family - our guns and men, your leadership…”  Mario smirked and sipped his brandy.

“I don’t want to mislead you, Mario.  The people we’re going after are likely entrenched and well-armed, highly trained and… women.”  Tara watched Mario choke slightly on his drink and cough.

“Women?”

“Will your Soldato have an issue shooting women… possibly young ones?”

Mario narrowed his eyes and sat down.  “I have a feeling perhaps your mother left some details out.”

Tara sighed.  “I wondered. I can’t have your men hesitating, Mario.  They’ll die that way. The man I’m hunting has surrounded himself with young women, teenagers, and he’s been training them to kill.  If your men can’t shoot a woman, a young one possibly as young as what would be considered a non-combatant I’m afraid you might do me more harm than good or at the very least I’ll possibly bring home many more men on slabs than I want to.”

“If these young women are shooting, I assure you, my men won’t hesitate to defend themselves and you.  I am … troubled to hear that this is what stands between us and success. What sort of man is this that keeps young girls-”

Tara cut in, “Exactly the sort who deserves to die.  I just need to know how to get close enough to do it.”

“There are options, I suppose,” said Mario. “Cefalu is the main point closest to this base; you could land there and follow the road south into the forest- into the mountains. This seems like the road that they would most likely take themselves; acquiring a vehicle, you could take it yourself. You could also approach from the east- hike here through these woods. That would be more time consuming, but probably less expected. And depending on how much time you have… well, not everyone may be able to keep up with you in the woods. Or, I suppose, you could take the road from the south. ”

“What would be the concerns taking the road in from the south?”  Tara asked.

“From what I recall, there are few trees that way. You would be more exposed, driving in. You can, of course, do whatever you’d like- or even more than one.”

“That’s what I’m thinking currently.  A part of me thinks the best course of action is a mix of the options.  A frontal assault, loud and visible and meanwhile, something more subtle coming in through these woods.”

“Communication, of course, will be difficult. But if you began in the morning and timed things for sunset… well, assuming the group hiking through the woods is quick enough, they could wait. Of course, a visible group arriving in Cefalu or taking the south road may attract attention- split the enemies forces. There’s no guarantee that either group would make it there unhindered.”

“I’ve spent my whole life in the woods like you describe in that area.”  Tara pointed to the map. “I could move quickly and without much problem on my own but that means I’m not with the frontal assault team.  I agree that we can set the timing precise enough, but…” She paused, considering whether she was being too emotional, or over confident considering taking to the woods and sneaking into the compound herself.  

“With all due respect, I don’t think traveling on your own would be wise. You seem like you have some hardy fellows with you, though, who would accompany you and follow your direction.”

“I’d trust any of those people out there with my life.”  She sighed.  I’m just not sure about trusting them with Ori’s life.  “Crupi.  I promised I wouldn’t leave him behind again.  God … Laurent will be leading the frontal team.  He’s a good guy, a leader, seen combat before - people dying.  He’ll do what needs to be done to keep the team on objective. I think I might want to leave my doctor somewhere nearby, that had been the plan of course looking at the map now I don’t know that there’s a good place for that.  If anyone needs a real doctor, I’m not sure they’d survive the trip to any place I could easily hide him.”

“Maybe I send the doctor with the frontal assault team.  He came for a reason. He’s no good to me if I don’t put him on the map.  Jo… not sure how she’ll do in the woods but she’s kept pace so far and a nurse might be nice to have with me and Crupi.”

Mario seemed deep in thought. “There is a village to the south named Nociazzi. You could set up your medical people there to be close to the base. Or, as you say, you could try to set him up in Cefalu. If I may make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”  Tara said rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“Take your team with you through the woods. Your bodyguard, your Laurent soldier, and your nurse- as well as anyone else you pick. I will led my men in Cefalu; I have no intention of sending others to fight for me, and I will keep them in line.”

“All of them?”  She arched an eyebrow.  “I didn’t dare ask you to assault the front gates of a location you know nothing about without my own people there taking the risk too… Mario, I don’t know what we’ll find there and I… I would hate for your losses to be any greater than my own at the end of the day.  This is our mission after all.”

“You are right. But what sort of man would I be if I allow you to go do this on your own? My family owes yours a debt; we will ensure that it is paid. Besides, if these enemies are as powerful as you suggest, we may not make it out of Cefalu. If I arrive with a couple dozen men, establish your doctor somewhere, and make a spectacle, I will pull people away from the base, most likely. This will make it easier for you to accomplish what you hope to.”

Tara wondered what her Nona Bella would have thought of this man.  What would she have thought about how her secreted funds sent back to Sicily eventually lead to her grandchildren having guns and men when they needed it most decades after her own death?  She imagined her mother, and all her rage as she killed Don Conti and his wife in their bed, ending a war that might have gone on for years longer than it did. What she did, it wasn’t for this man and his family, but her own broken heart.  What would that young woman have thought about this having come of her actions all these years later? She would ask her mother about that… if she lived.

“Alright, Mario.  I think that’s about the best idea I’ve heard yet.  Thank you. My family is grateful to you and yours. If we both walk away from this, I owe you a drink when we’re done.”  She smiled at the slightly older man.

“Agreed.”

After a few more details, smaller ones pertaining to weapons to be brought along on the mission, Tara took her leave of the office and made her way out to her friends who were relaxing outside.  Her hands in her pockets she stood in the doorway watching them all, committing to memory their faces, their laughter, and this moment - the last good one before things were likely to go to shit.

“Alright guys, let’s talk about what we’re doing tomorrow.”  Tara said stepping into the group and taking a seat in one of the patio chairs.  Jo passed her a glass of wine and Tara gladly accepted. If she was going to outline how they were going to meet the reaper tomorrow, she damn well wasn’t going to do it without at least two glasses of wine in her first.  God willing they’d all be able to raise another glass together again when this was done.

“I know you’re strong suit isn’t forest landscapes Ren… but I think you’re about to diversify some.”  She gave him a smile.  

“We’ve been a team together since day one, aside from Brigitte leaving us.  I see no reason to ruin a good thing. So, we’ll leave early tomorrow. We’ll attempt a stealthy entry into the compound while Don Luciano takes his men to Cefalu to create something of a spectacle.  Ideally he’ll draw some of Bianchi’s attention and firepower. If we can slip in unnoticed and take off the head of the snake - maybe it ends there. Simple as that. It’s my hope that Ori is right, that we’re talking about half a dozen young women who aren’t fully trained yet.  One skilled killer and their teacher/master. Of course… we can’t bank on that but maybe Don Luciano’s men draw away some of the extra firepower that Ori might not have known about or been able to account for - if there is any.”

She turned and looked to the Doctor, “Doc, Don Luciano thinks he can put you somewhere safe for us in the city.  If it’s just as well to you, I think we’ll take his advice on that one. We might need you help saving lives on scene, yes, but  if you take a bullet in the field we’re up shit creek. Probably safer we leave you back behind the front lines so we have you to fall back toward.”

“I can’t argue with your reasoning,” said Dr. Magnotti.

She looked around at the group, “Input?  Comments, Suggestions? Questions?”  

Hearing nothing she nodded.  “Well, then I suppose that the only thing left to do now is to enjoy Don Luciano’s wine tonight.  Tomorrow is going to be a rough day friends. Let’s rest up and be ready for it.”  

The night dragged on and Tara found herself a few more glasses of wine in than she meant to.  The thoughts of everything that could go wrong, the fears about how she might mess up or who might not come back all slowly getting the better of her only held back by the memory of Oriana’s confidence in her.  Maybe Brigitte was making headway with the Senator? She hoped, but she couldn’t bet on that. The best conclusion was to assume that things might go sideways and that way everything that surprised her would be pleasant.  

This was how she found her way to Don Luciano’s office.  Outside music was playing, a few of the men had broken out a fiddle and harmonica, it had become an impromptu party of sorts - men who thought they might die drinking their leader’s wine.  But Tara, she had only one desire at this hour that she could actually do anything about.

Sitting at the desk, picking up an empty pad of paper and a pen, she began to write.

October 22, 193-

I don’t know if this will be the first and last entry.  I told myself I wasn’t going to write one of these stupid journals.  They show too much. And yet, tonight, I kinda get it. Tomorrow I don’t know what I’m going to think about myself.  I don’t know who I’ll be after tomorrow and so I kinda had this thought that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to write something today so I don’t forget who I was.  I know, that wasn’t the point of Lucy’s journal, or Nona Bella, or Mom’s… but I probably won’t have any kids to pass this shit on to which is probably just as well.  It’s hard to live in a world where you follow behind such big shoes and long shadows.

If I come back tomorrow it’s a victory.  It means even if I haven’t found Ori, even if she’s not with me, it’s not over.  I have to remember that. I may burn this book re-reading those words tomorrow if she’s dead, but it’s true.  It’s not over. Ori wants me to think that, to believe it, and if I don’t come back and Ori you’re reading this I need you to know that too.  I want you to be happy. Lucia would want that too. I know how much you cared about both of us and if our opinions are worth much at all - well, just push forward.  You are not what he made you. You are who you choose to be. Please know that.

I have to know it too.  I rushed into things at the House of Pleasure because I was scared that I would never again get to have that sort of time with you, but I meant them.  Maybe when we get back alive and well I’ll slow down. Ease up. Back off a bit. We can’t be like we were there, not in New York. At least not how things are now.  Maybe I’ll start a place like his though… like the House of Pleasure? I’d like to think of myself as he was, with the power to make men like Francesco obey my rules - with the power to be myself without fear, to be with you.  For some people that place was just about hedonism. For me, it was freedom. My family loves me, but until recently, I felt like I was hiding among them. I’m done hiding, but that doesn’t mean I’m deluded about the way the world really works.

Truth is, the world is a fucked up place.  Bianchi doesn’t have a corner on that market.  The Life isn’t about money and power for its own sake - not for me.  It’s about freedom. That’s why I’m not going back to school. It isn’t that I don’t love to learn, I do, but all the learning in the world won’t empower me to be who I am.  Guns. Money. That sort of thing will make people overlook what they don’t like and even if I were to run away and try to be something else, let’s face it, Luciano, Byrne, Mastrosimone… I can’t escape this life.  I can’t escape who I am. And, after everything, I don’t want to. I think I always knew I wouldn’t want to - that’s why I didn’t want to leave Canada.

Ori, if you are reading this and my luck ran out - please tell my mother how much I love her and my father too.  Tell them I did my best and that I died unafraid and strong - the way all good women in my family have died before me … REGARDLESS of the truth.  I hate to ask you to lie to them, but I know you can do it well and based on your letters to my family you clearly have no problem lying to someone for their own good.  Hearing how ugly I died won’t help them. Let my mother know that I made your life better if Francesco is gone and she’ll hang her hat on that and cry a while… but she’ll be okay.  You’ve read her journal. She’s a survivor.

My father… he’ll take a bit more to get past it.  Brigitte will help though. I hope she never comes to believe she let me down by leaving.  The truth was, sending her to deal with the Senator was the smartest thing we could have done.  Brigitte is smart, beautiful, and as it turns out pretty fucking deadly… she’ll be fine.

Gavin, Isabella, Jack, and the new baby - well, I’m a little more worried about them.  I know the twins want this life but I think anyone who wants this life can’t really be ready for it.  I worry that they’ll die young. Maybe, if you’re not rushing off to start your new life, offer to teach Jack and Izzy a few things?  They could stand for a steady hand to guide them the way you’ve helped me.  

My team.  I keep dreading how things will go for them.  I’ve played through the whole thing a thousand ways and a dark cloud hangs over my thoughts in a way that my mother would be screaming at me for.  I don’t want to bury them, Ori. I don’t know if can. I can. Of course. But I don’t want to. If any of them make it out, let them know I told you how proud I am of all of them.  How blessed I was to have their friendship, loyalty, effort to bring you back safe, and end Bianchi.

I didn’t do this only for you Ori.  I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t about you at all, but it’s not ALL about you.  He had to be stopped. Please find comfort in that, if you can.  

Yours in all ways, ALWAYS,

-TM

Tara was so intent on finishing her writing that she didn’t notice Mario leaning in the doorway on his office, watching her with a smile. Drinking with his men had made him more informal; his jacket was gone, his sleeves were rolled, and his tie had long since been cast aside. He had his arms crossed in front of him, accentuating muscular forearms. As she seemed to end with a flourish of her signature, Mario grinned.

“Eat, drink, and be merry- for tomorrow we may die. Does the good book not say this? How can I help you make merry, Tara Mastrosimone?”

Tara smiled embarrassed at having been caught in an office she hadn’t asked to go back into, “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve claimed this notepad?  I just… had some thoughts I wanted to put down before tomorrow.”

“Of course. It’s yours. Take the whole office, if you’d like.” He shrugged, walking inside and sitting on one of the corners of his desk. “Can you think of anything else you’d like? Or need, before tomorrow?”

Tara looked at the floor, she sighed.  “No. I suppose there’s not. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing to hear?”  She arched an eyebrow and looked up at him through her lashes.

Mario just grinned. “Never. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Mario?  Maybe you could have your wife keep this for me until I get back?  Or … give it to the woman I’m going there to save, if I get unlucky?  Her name is Oriana Montini. She works for my father. I’d prefer that no one else saw it though, burn it if she or I don’t come back, okay?”

“Of course.” 

Tara stood up and came around the desk and offered the notepad to him.  “Thank you. For this and for everything that is going to be done tomorrow.”  She touched his arm, careful not to invite more affection or attention than that.  

“Sleep well, Don Luciano.”  With that Tara left the room and made her way back to the place that the Don had given her to sleep for the night.

She had just settled down for bed when she heard a quiet knock on the door.

Tara sat up in her bed, her hand going under her pillow for her gun, “Come in?”

Zetico Crupi stuck his head inside. “I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Mastrosimone. Two men just arrived outside. They drove right up to the place and refused to be disarmed; they said they need to talk to you. 

Tara swung her feet out of the bed as Crupi quickly turned away; she picked her pants up off the floor and pulled them on.  Putting her gun into place she grabbed Ori’s jacket off the chair and slid her feet into her shoes and was headed for the door no less than two minutes later.

Unsure of what she’d find she kept her hand near to her gun and tried to prepare herself for just about anything.

Outside in the center of the compound, Mario was glaring at two men in suits leaning back against the hood of the car. The men looked more like models than gunmen, but their nonchalance at having a dozen guns pointed at them seemed to suggest otherwise. One yawned.

“Gentlemen?”  Tara said walking past Mario, giving him an apologetic look.  “I’m told you wanted to see me? I’m Tara Mastrosimone.”

“We have a letter for you.” One of them removed a folded, sealed piece of paper from his pocket and held it forward.

Tara nodded and walked forward to receive it.

Cracking the seal open, Tara found the following note.

To My Most Promising Student,

I found myself thinking of you after your departure. It is rare that people make an impression on me- at least that sort of impression. I couldn’t help but overhear your plans, which were nearly as intriguing as the other sounds reverberating around your room. The two gentlemen delivering this letter are mercenaries. Good ones. Use them however you wish; they’ve been instructed to follow your orders for the next couple days. In accepting their service, you would owe me a favor. But dare I say that it’s one that you might enjoy paying off? Return to me after your little adventure. A little divine intervention never hurts.

Bacchus

The smile on Tara’s face grew and grew.  She looked up at the two men in front of her and smiled.  Of course they’d be lovely to look at, she should have instantly knew who sent them!  “I could kiss you both.” Tara exclaimed, eyes sparkling.

“Me first,” said the one on the right.

Tara laughed and went straight to the man, kissing him- he managed a half-toss of his long hair before her lips made contact with his, and he lowered his hands to slide into her back pockets as the other man cleared his throat, seemingly impatient.

Then kissing the other, a bit unsteady and amused from having kissed the first. She was blushing and giddy, still feeling the wine - no longer sad and somber but hopeful and delighted.

“Don Luciano!”  She exclaimed releasing the second man from her kiss. Mario, looking somewhat confused and somewhat jealous, listened carefully to Tara.  “These men are gifts from a dear friend of mine. Help in our fight against the enemy tomorrow.”

“Ah,” said Mario. “Then they are very welcome here. What are your names? I like to know who a man is before he steps into my house.” 

“Orlando,” said one.

“Armado,” said the other.

“You are both welcome. But we have a very busy day tomorrow- should we not all retire?” he asked, looking at Tara.

“Yes, we have an early start tomorrow gentlemen.  Bacchus was kind enough to send you my way but I won’t abuse you.  We’ll see that you’re rested up properly before our long journey tomorrow to hell and back.”  She smiled at them both. “Come, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team and we’ll get you settled.”

“We are definitely sleeping with her,” whispered Orlando on the way in.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” said Armando as the door closed behind them.

Chapter 12: Black 

All of Francesco’s reinforcements had arrived- more than Oriana had expected. There were at least a half dozen of his “alumni”, fully trained assassins that had once walked Oriana’s path. A couple of them looked like they’d added some extra weight or lost their edge, but even they looked deadly. The other four, though, looked like they were still close to peak. Mid-thirties, perhaps? Early forties, at most? 

Mentally, Oriana ran through Francesco resources in her head: Francesco, Serena, the six veteran assassins, the seven new girls… although Oriana had hopes of winning them over. It was something that needed to be done carefully. 

She leaned against the wall carefully, listening as Francesco highlighted possible plans: how to defend the bridge, reinforcing the corners of the buildings with steel for cover, patrols, what to take from the armory and what to leave. As she listened, she heard possible plans and responses. Francesco was a strategist who enjoyed his flexibility, and Oriana had no doubt that his strategy would change several more times before things were over.

Serena whispered something in Francesco’s ear. She made eye contact with Oriana as she did so, causing the brunette to roll her eyes. 

“Apparently, Brigitte Mastrosimone attempted to gain the support of Il Duce and failed to do so. This should limit their resources even further.” He grinned, leaning back in his chair as eight women and seven girls watched him carefully. “I might have troubled you ladies for nothing. Still… this should only take a few days. I’d appreciate if you’d stay to assist. For tonight, you’re all dismissed.” Each woman and girl bowed her head and turned to head to the dormitory or the medical building. “Except you, Oriana.”

The chill was noticeable in the other women. “Keep me company tonight,” said Francesco as he reached for her. Oriana did her best to think of Tara and, smirking, she obliged.

***

On the morning of Tara’s attack, Oriana dressed herself, looking down at where Francesco lay, splayed out on his bed and lightly snoring. It had been a long, deeply uncomfortable night for Oriana, but she didn’t regret it. She had mostly tried to think of Tara and, as the night stretched on, she’d reached a sort of high purely on the fact that she could tell she was fooling Francesco. It had happened so rarely in her life that, in this case, her ecstasy hardly needed to be forced. Filled with such authentic happiness, Oriana had managed to relieve Francesco of his doubts so thoroughly that he’d even sent away Serena. 

As she stepped into her pants and quickly buttoned them, her eyes caught on some documents sitting on Francesco’s desk. They weren’t on the flat part, but seemingly tucked away in vertical shelves at the back. Storage for later. She slid out a handful of letters and skimmed them quickly, finding plans for every possible result of the looming conflict with Tara. Oriana wasn’t surprised; Francesco always planned for every eventuality. Looking at the last letter, Oriana found instructions to have all the girls killed; apparently, he hoped for a fresh start outside of Italy. Glancing back at him, Oriana decided it was worth the risk, and she pocketed the letter. Returning the rest of the desk to its previous state, she headed outside into the brisk mountain air.

When to show the girls? Who to show? Between the letter and Oriana’s own work to win them over, it seemed likely that some- maybe even most- would choose to fight with Oriana over Francesco. Winning anyone over would be a boon to Tara.

But what to do with the ones who chose to stay with Francesco? Oriana grimaced.

Oriana, as she’d planned, would take all of the girls on a training exercise up toward the peak. From there, they’d hopefully be able to anticipate what would happen.

Chapter 13: Queen’s Gambit

Tara had been up and dressed before the sun.  It would be many long hours before the strike against Bianchi’s compound but she couldn’t sleep despite how tired she really was. It was a strange thing to be thinking about but Tara found herself reflecting on all those early mornings at Vassar.  The runs on campus, thinking of Oriana, longing to be something and someone other than who she really was. Today the weight of her gun, her grandfather’s knife on her calf, both felt more comfortable than they had in those first days. Her body had found the right way to carry them without burden.  Perhaps that was the way of all things in this life? In time, a person could adapt to just about anything. In that regard, perhaps all men really did have scars, just of a different sort than one another. Scars you couldn’t see.

Tara gathered her people as they woke, indulged in a light breakfast and a cup of black coffee.  She amused herself watching her two newest additions to the team as Ren eyed one then the other as if two new roosters had just entered the hen house.  Jo was nearly falling all over herself to speak with one and the other mercenary. Of course, she and Ren both were thrilled to hear that after this was all said and done that the group would be returning back to The House of Pleasure for a well-earned rest and reward.  Her father would be footing the bill for that one, even if she never told him that was where the cash had gone. She’d dedicate the contents of her briefcase twice over to the cause happily - especially if Oriana was with her.

When the time came to pile into the vehicle she had bid Mario’s wife farewell, thanking her in a whisper for keeping the journal for her or Ori - whoever should come for it.  Watching the Luciano men preparing to leave in order to fight her fight, she wondered if this was how every leader in her family’s history had ever felt before. A strange mix of confidence in having done all she could and dread in knowing that a good many of these people would not be returning with her.  In a very short period of time, Tara had come a very long way from the girl who spent her days climbing trees and reading books beside the stream.

“Crupi?”  she said to the man as she settled into the seat beside him.  “When we get back, do you suppose that you’d like to keep working for me?  I think I’m going to talk to my father about opening a place like the House of Pleasure back in New York.  I’ll need someone to watch my back - the perks should be really good.”

Crupi nodded. “I’ll stick with you, Miss Mastrosimone. As long as this sort of thing is the exception, rather than the rule.”

“Trust me, Crupi.  There’s never been a member of my family who went looking for fights like this - just finished them.”  She smiled and looked out the window at the Sicilian countryside. “I’ll be damn glad to put all this madness behind me when we’re done - trust me.”

After a long moment of silence she told him, “Donna Luciano has a journal.  I started it. It’s only meant for Oriana. If die and she lives, see that she gets it.  Otherwise it’s to be burnt.” She patted his leg and said nothing more on the matter. Crupi nodded, then patted Tara’s shoulder once and walked away. He’d seen Ren waiting in the rearview mirror. The young man flashed a grin at Tara as he slipped into the seat next to her. 

“You know, I just figured I’d say thanks for the adventure. It’s been fun. And lucrative. Let’s hope we live to spend it, eh?”

Tara, less afraid now, turned and kissed Ren and smiled at him.  “You earned that too. And more. Sadly, you’ll have to cash that part in with Brigitte when we live through this.”