The Mafia Man

Love and Death

     
      I awoke as we sped home. Callahan's knuckles were a ghastly white as he clutched the steering wheel. Patrick, in the front seat, switched off from looking worriedly at me and adoringly at Charlotte.

       Char held me tightly in her arms, whispering reassuring things. She tied my handkerchief around my head to cover the little patch in a stylish manner, and her fingers gently began to braid my hair.

        Blaring sirens and blinding lights greeted us as we pulled into the estate. Callahan parked and came around the side of the car, gathering me into his arms.

       I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his bruised, scarred cheek. He stopped walking and stared at me. "Rosalie, I-"

       "Ti amo." I whispered softly into his ear.

        He crashed his lips against mine, moving me so my legs could wrap around his torso. He backed me against the car, where Char and Patrick were inside doing the same thing.

       
         Here we were, surrounded by absolute chaos with our lips locked, limbs wound around each other. More paramedics arrived, but Cal didn't stop kissing me.

        I pulled away. "Cal, shouldn't we find out who was shot?"

         He groaned, "You're right, baby. Damn! I can't even think straight around you. One minute I'm stressed and furious, the next I'm in heaven. You drive me absolutely crazy."

           We agreed on one more kiss, and we were well into it before something broke us apart.

           Cal set me down with shaking hands. I started to cry. Pat and Char solemnly came and stood behind us. Wails of grief and sorrow brayed from the house. Cal sank to his knees.

           We stared with horror at the lifeless body of his youngest sister.