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Castelluccio | Holmes
Unexpected Events
Tue Apr 3, 2007 02:18
74.129.237.240

Note: Italicized text is spoken Italian.




So you are still a pawn of the American government, I see.” Vittorio didn’t mind the disdain dripping from his voice, though John studiously ignored it, shoving a few shirts into his luggage.

Do not start with me, Vic. It is bad enough that Sean…” Ah, a lover’s quarrel, then? Then the large man was snapping his suitcase shut, hefting another two beneath the opposing arm. Who would have ever imagined that scrawny little Geno would have turned out to be such a specimen? “Take care of them, Vittorio.” The man quirked a brow at the use of his full name, something his cousin never employed. “I mean it. They’re family.

On my honor, Geno, nothing shall befall the Holmes family.” The man did not seem satisfied until Vittorio made a perfunctory bow. Turning upon heel, he left his cousin to the rest of his work.

It had been a mere half-hour ago that a call had come in, and that small family had been set into motion. He had hardly ever seen anything like it, though what could one expect of Americans? And now, here he was, conned into a visit to the beach of all places, for Luciana. Matteo would be furious if the girl went with anyone of a lower rank than Vittorio; Giulio would be no substitute either, though he would be nearby in case anything were to go awry.

And there he was, and hour later, staring at the sandy shores along the ocean. He most definitely did not fit in, even after doffing his suit jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and undoing a few of the buttons at the throat. It was obvious he simply did not belong here. Luciana and Caleb upon the other hand, most definitely did, especially with their son. The boy was bright, able to make the transition from English to Italian with only slight difficulty. Of course it was only a few words; he was still young. Nonetheless, impressive for people from the land of the lazy and unionized.

Hell, he had even aided the husband in bringing along supplies. Dear God, if anyone saw him now… Well, he’d simply have to kill them. Vittorio was certain Giulio was gaining a great amount of amusement from all of this. But eventually the family was settled, playing with their child while he sat off to the side in an attempt to be unobtrusive. It was only polite.

Instead, his attention turned towards the other occupants upon the beach. Tourists, mainly, though a few locals were enjoying the warm day by wetting their toes in the cool waters. But one fellow… The Italian frowned, observing as a group of what appeared to be local thugs surrounded a man in swimming trunk, with one of those surf boards. That was something you’d never catch him doing.

“Vada di nuovo al china, occhi inclinati.” Vittorio’s brow lofted in surprise at such crude language, glancing over toward the couple he had accompanied. James was playing happily with a squeal in the sand, while Luciana appeared fairly worried, and Caleb was merely calculating. Likely to see if his family was in danger. But then a surprising turn of events occurred. Every man that rushed the surfer was turned aside, almost in a non-violent fashion. No pushes or shoves, merely dodging about and allowing them to roll past. It was interesting to watch, for the thugs began to tire more quickly than the man they were attempting to assault; and failing miserably at.

Though, eventually, that man would tire as well. Sharing a look with the Holmes, Vittorio sighed inwardly and rose from his perch on a lounge chair, snatching up a bottle of water from the cooler that he had carried from the car. Wandering over towards the action, he even waited patiently until one of the men noticed him, huffing and puffing.

Perhaps you would prefer to bully someone your own size? Mayhap a child would be appropriate.” Vittorio couldn’t help the smirk that surfaced upon his face as he uttered those words. There was no venom, but definitely a hefty dose of amusement. “Go on. Leave the man be.

Who the hell do you think you are?” One demanded. He didn’t seem as winded, though hardly interested in the Asian fellow any longer.

Vittorio Castelluccio. And you are?” The name had a profound effect. Nothing more was said, but those men began to wander away in a trickle, one by one, casting wary glances over their shoulders as if he were going to shoot them. Well, not in such a public place, though they wouldn’t realize this. “Idiots,” he muttered beneath his breath, glancing at the fellow that they had been attempting to assault. “That was impressive. Here,” Vittorio murmured, holding out the bottle of water for the fellow. Sure, his English may be halting and heavily accented, but still understandable, especially with the practice he had been receiving with Lucy and Caleb being near as of late.

“Do you need medical attention?” He didn’t look to need it, but regardless… “My apologies. I am Vittorio.” The bloke even held out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

Now this was tempting. It almost reminded him of that young Sonnet’s brother…




“I’m still going to kill that bastard!”

“Calm down,” Devon murmured, stretching a hand across the seat to rub Mick’s neck with a firm grip. God he was tense. And while there were surefire ways to work out that tension, they weren’t readily available now. If unless they felt like acting as if they were teenagers, necking in the backseat of the car in a multi-level garage. “Its only temporary, and you’ll have help anyhow.”

Pulling in to the garage entrance, Devon swiped his security clearance card and entered once that stupid red arm rose. Wasn’t like that would stop any one, but the men with the guns in the booth sure as hell would. Instead of attempting to find a parking place, he drove in those tight circles up several levels, before reaching the door that Mick would need to take him to his destination.

“Think of it this way. You have the Agency’s NYC office in the palm of your hand. Just make a few threats to Rob and he’ll give it up to someone else,” Devon murmured, pushing the Denali into park. “C’mon babe,” he whispered, pulling Mick close. Damn anyone that could see them right now! He didn’t care one whit as his teeth caught the Brit’s lower lip, incessantly dragging out the kiss until their breathing was ragged with need. After being together for what seemed to be ages, it was so easy to press his buttons. “Go on. I’m just a phone call away, all right?” Pausing, he reached over and opened the glove box. “Here, you’ll need ‘em.” A pack of Players had been stashed in there some time ago, but judging by the way his lover was grinding his teeth…

Devon paused, watching Mick’s backside in a sickeningly adoring fashion before he could no longer see the man after he entered the building. Sometimes their relationship was still difficult, could easily hit a snag. Yet somehow they always worked it out. Frowning, the fed glanced at the clock on the dash, calculating the time. Dad would be up by the time he got back to the neighborhood, and the way Nigel and Lara were acting as of late, it likely wouldn’t be such a grand idea to check in on them.

Oh, he drove by the house, but it was the same as when he had left it. Soft lights coming from the living room, shadows cast on the wall. They were definitely still awake; he even grinned to think of what they were doing. At least, what he hoped they were. The sexual tension between those two was killing him and Mick! But it was always a good topic of conversation to get a laugh.

A half hour later, he pulled into James’ driveway, noting that only his father’s sedan was here. Which meant Benny had likely crashed somewhere else; figuratively, he hoped. The kitchen light was on though, he could see its glow on the side of the house. Fabulous. A quick jog, and a soft knock on the door, before he was let in with a concerned glance.

“Everything’s fine, Dad. Mick had to go in to work, so I figured I’d stop by and cook us some breakfast.” Things were still difficult between the three of them, but Mick really was trying, for all his father’s surliness. Better than nothing, Devon supposed.

“Ah. Well, help yourself, you know where everything is.” Of course he did, he grew up in this house. “Seen Bennett lately?”

“No, we’ve been with Lara and Nigel. Why, haven’t you?” When James shook his head, Devon sighed, grabbing the ingredients for breakfast. “Figures. I’m really beginning to wonder if he has self-control issues.” Now that was ironic, considering who said it. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? But who better to know except this guy? Recovering self-control freak, might we add. “Well, maybe he’ll show up today.”

“One can always hope—” Ring-ring! Father and son stared at one another, before James rose to quickly answer the phone. Devon ceased chopping vegetables, wiping his hands clean on the available towel as he listened to a muffled conversation in which his father’s voice became angrier and angrier. “No, thank you officer. I’ll be right over.”

“What the hell is going on?”

Bennett, drunk as a damn skunk, broke into Caleb’s house. Claims he wanted to see Lara.” Oh… my God. Devon could only stare for a few long moments, before grabbing his suit jacket and accompanying his father out the door.

“C’mon, I’ll drive.” Besides, with his plates he could get there a hell of a lot faster than his father’s Veteran plates. And get there quickly they did! A half-hour drive was knocked down into fifteen minutes, though it involved breaking a number of laws in the process. With James swearing the entire way. Devon had never heard his father swear like this before. Oh, this was not good.

Squad cars littered the street and drive, causing the fed to carefully maneuver until parking next door. Neighbors peered out of windows or gathered on their lawns to watch, which was disheartening.

“Dad!” It was Nigel’s voice, calling from just inside the door. “Devon, back already?” Except his brother didn’t exactly sound jovial and he could understand why after seeing the shape the foyer was in. Wow, Caleb was not going to be happy when he heard about this. Benny was slumped in a nearby chair, hands behind his back; one could guess why.

And since when could James’ face turn that shade of purple? But there was one thing missing from the equation.

“Nigel? … Where’s Lara?”

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