Ciao, Amore [Carlos Sainz]

Veintiseis

If definition of silence could become a person, it would certainly took on Carlos' face today. The Spaniard was awfully quiet from the moment they left Austin in the car Fernando borrowed them for their stay in United States of America. Carlos sitting behind the steering wheel reminded her of his version when he tried to act like he didn't care, when he left her in the hospital with Gianluca in order to cure himself from her. Alessandra even tried to just stare at him from passenger's seat, but it only grew her frustration when he didn't react. There was nothing to read from in his features, not a single twist or wrinkle. Carlos was keeping his composure perfectly. His palms were casually placed on the steering wheel as if he was driving to get something done for the crew, not to meet her presumed dead brothers. Alessandra leaned in her seat, trying to figure what could possibly happen overnight to influence him in such way. Yes, they drank some wine during dinner with Fernando, but she was absolutely sure nothing bad was said along the way. Yesterday, she was looking forward to spending over seven hours ride with him. Now, it seemed like a punishment for something she didn't do. To avoid this tensed atmosphere, she directed her thoughts towards her Nico and Daniel. She hoped they will be in the house by the time they arrive. Will they believe in her return? Will they accept her again and listen to reasons why it took her so long to pay them a visit? Will they forgive her? Alessandra swallowed hard at this point. The three of them were the last members of the East Coast crew, but neither Daniel or Nico had a duty to forgive and forget about what she did.

"Louisiana," Carlos announced suddenly, his voice hoarse from not speaking in last few hours. Alessandra had to realise he actually spoke to her before she looked out the window. They were surrounded by thick green forest. On the right side of the road a blue sign was placed to welcome all newcomers to the state of Louisiana. The captions on the sign were written in English and French with fleur-de-lis, symbol deeply ingrained in Louisiana's history, separating them. "Do you want to change and drive to the mansion?" he asked when the car passed the sign. "We can switch if you're tired," she gazed at him, but he remained focused on the empty grey road. "I'm not," he declined. "I was just curious if you didn't want to drive up to the mansion by yourself," he shifted a bit nervously in his seat, doing the most human thing today. "I'm fine. Let's just not stop anymore," she added.

As the member of East Coast crew that needed to be kept in secret, Alessandra didn't have a chance to travel a lot. Her assignments concerned people residing in USA. When some foreigner needed to be removed from the picture Mr. Webber was simply inviting such person to New York City, without a promise of safe return. During her stay within the crew, she heard a lot of things about the mansion in New Orleans, mostly from Nico who always awaited the moment to leave gloomy New York for this place. East's mansion on neutral ground was in the past a plantation. In the early 19th century, it was a home of the governor of New Orleans who was very fond of all four crews. He liked their money and respect, so mobsters could come to his city whenever they needed and stay as long as they wanted. Under his watch crews were going off with everything, including murders. Before governor died, his last will was to give his house to reigning boss of the East, while other three crews were given prestigous mansions around the city. Since then, the property was passed from boss to boss until the massacre at Sebastian's wedding. Technically, the mansion belonged to nobody, but who nowadays had the courage to deal with it?

Carlos parked the car in the yard in front of the house and Alessandra could see it from behind windscreen. It was huge with over dozen windows and shutters, but it looked as if nobody lived in it for years. The grass was uncut, bushes were high enough to reach a man's waistline. There were cracks in the walls and paving bricks through which plants were reaching out to the sun. Most of the windows were covered with curtains, even those in the famous ball room on the right. "It makes an impression of abandoned," Carlos hated to admit it, but she saw it with her own eyes. Were Daniel and Nico ever here? The moment Alessandra asked herself that question, another car pulled over in the yard with two men inside. Carlos was quick to reach for his gun, but she stopped him. Heart was pounding in her chest when she pushed the handle to get out of the car, to show herself to her brothers. Carlos followed her immediately as the two observed them carefully from their vehicle. From his side he noticed Daniel sitting in the passenger's seat. He had dark curly hair and tanned skin, just like him or Alessandra. Heritage of South European countries. Although he was aware Daniel and Alessandra weren't biological brother and sister, it was hard not to assume it at first. Alessandra stood next to Carlos, reaching automatically for his hand to feel safer. He didn't pull away. They could see Daniel unclipping his belt in the speed of light to get out, while Nico wasn't moving at all. Tears filled her eyes as familiar honey hues were coming closer and closer to her. She thought she will never see them again. "Alessandra," Daniel swallowed her name, like it was a poison and a treat in the same time. A gust of wind blew his hair away, revealing dark circles under his eyes. For some reason he looked miserable. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but Daniel fell into her arms, embracing her waist tightly. One woman was taken away from his life, just for another one to return in one piece. Fortune was indeed cruel.