Chapter Three

Bruno had almost been all the way back to their place when Maria had called and he had no choice but to grab a taxi, urging the man to hurry, which, thankfully, he did. That was definitely one of the advantages to being a well-known capo.

By the time he got to the bakery, he saw Marcello's car parked outside. His instinct was to dash inside, but if there was trouble it might be better to surprise them, so he went around back and used Sticky Fingers to zip through the wall.

He could hear the sounds of crashing, Marcello and his men obviously tossing the place with none of the care Bruno had used to search earlier.

A particularly loud crash preceded Maria's shout of "Please, try to be more careful! This is expensive equipment!"

"It's a fraction of the cost of what your brother took from me," Marcello snapped. There was a sharp gasp from Maria as he continued. "So, tell me where it is!"

"I don't know!" Maria cried.

Bruno felt fury wash over him and hurried around the corner, seeing Marcello grabbing Maria by the front of her coat, pulling her close.

"Marcello, let her go," Bruno commanded.

The man looked up, seeming somewhat surprised to see him before his face contorted in annoyance. "Bucciarati. Why am I not surprised you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?"

Bruno stared him down. "I believe it's you who's sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Marcello, seeing as this territory belongs to Passione, after all. I don't remember giving you permission to work here—especially not to run drugs."

Marcello sneered and shoved Maria back toward his two thugs. "True businessmen don't need to ask permission."

Bruno raised a wry eyebrow. "You know well enough that's now how things work around here, which is obviously why you only waited until after Polpo and the previous Boss were gone to move in. If you think things are going to change with Passione under new management, you're wrong."

"Please," Marcello scoffed. "That snot-nosed brat doesn't scare me."

"He should," Bruno said with pure sincerity.

Marcello snorted. "I'll give you the chance to keep your nose out of my business and walk away."

Bruno glanced past him at Maria who was shaking, hemmed in by both Marcello's men. "Sorry, but Signorina Gallo came to me first. If you don't play by the rules around here, Marcello, you don't get to reap the benefits. I'll give you one last chance to leave."

"I don't think so," Marcello told him. "Not until I get what's mine."

"Very well then," Bruno said decisively.

He summoned Sticky Fingers and went to slam a fist into Marcello's jaw, but the man's eyes instantly flicked toward his Stand and something rippled around his face, stopping Bruno's punch before it had the chance to land.

"Ah, so you are a Stand user after all," he mused, wary.

"Yeah," Marcello sneered and slammed his foot onto the ground, Bruno flailed as the ground wobbled and he sunk a few inches into the floor, catching himself on a shelf as he had Sticky Fingers create a zipper into the floor to free him.

"Nicola!" Marcello shouted, surging at Bruno as he motioned toward one of his men.

Nicola stepped forward and a Stand appeared by his side. "Spin Doctor!"

The shape blurred and something spun through the air before Bruno had time to duck. Some kind of projectile sliced into his outstretched arm and he hissed, but Sticky Fingers had freed him now and he leapt up, throwing another flurry of punches at Marcello. The man made his arms into an X formation across his chest, his Stand's form super-imposing over his forearms, the air rippling with every strike Bruno made. He finally dodged to one side and swiftly struck Marcello in the thigh, getting past his barrier.

Marcello grunted and staggered. Bruno took the opportunity to hit him several more times, landing a couple other punches. Zippers appeared and oozed blood around them.

Marcello shouted in anger and leapt back, waving to his men. "Leave it!"

Nicola sent one more projectile flying Bruno's way and he just barely ducked in time, bending back as it sliced across his cheek and took several hairs with it.

He regained his balance in time to see Marcello and his men fleeing through the door and into their car. He would normally follow them, but Maria was still standing against the wall, trembling in shock.

He took a deep breath, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he turned to her.

"Are you hurt?"

"N-no," she stammered. "I don't…what even happened? I thought…"

"He's gone now," Bruno assured her, pretty positive she could not see Stands considering Sticky Fingers was still hovering at his shoulder. Bruno dispersed him and reached out to take Maria's hand, pulling her away from the wall.

"I need to call my colleagues," he told her, fishing in his pocket for his phone. "I think we need to discuss a few things."

Maria's eyes landed on his arm then. "You're bleeding," she breathed.

Bruno glanced down and saw that his left sleeve was now half red with blood. The cut must have been deeper than he had thought. He bit back a curse and shook his head. "It's fine." He dialed Abbacchio's number. "Are you still at the club?" he asked when the other man answered. "I need you and Mista to come meet us at the bakery."

When he ended the call, he glanced around for Maria, and panicked slightly when he found her gone, but she rounded the corner in another second, carrying a small first aid kit.

"That's really not necessary," he tried to tell her, but Maria pointed to the office, urging him in that direction.

"With all respect, you're bleeding pretty badly. At least let me bandage it," she said, almost pleaded.

Bruno sighed, but blood had traveled down his arm and was dripping off his fingers now. Besides, there was something in her worried green eyes that made him acquiesce. That and knowing he would get a scolding from Abbacchio if he was still dripping blood when he showed up.

So, he reluctantly sat down in the office as Maria went to wash her hands and then came back and laid out the first aid supplies.

"I didn't expect him to come here before the end of the week," Maria told him, voice still shaking slightly. "He said that I had until then to hand over the bakery."

Bruno frowned, looking up at her. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I—I don't know," she said quietly. "I guess finding out that David was dealing drugs really rattled me." She took up a cloth and opened a bottle of peroxide before she turned around and glanced at Bruno's bloody sleeve, seeming to realize something.

"Um…can you…?" she blushed slightly and motioned to his jacket.

"Oh, yes," Bruno said and reached up to undo the collar of his coat, pulling it off his shoulder and down over his injured arm, unable to keep from hissing slightly at the feeling of material against the tender flesh.

He felt Maria's eyes land on him instantly with a sharp inhale as they took in the scar on his shoulder, the other one in the center of his chest, just slightly revealed; then her gaze moved to trace the swirling tattoo around it…

Bruno cleared his throat softly.

Maria snapped her eyes back up, and flamed in embarrassment as she realized he was watching her. "I—let me clean that for you," she squeaked, quickly bending over her work, allowing her hair to hide her flushed face.

Bruno winced as she swiped the cloth over the wound, cleaning it and clearing away some of the blood, even though it still seemed to be bleeding pretty badly.

"This is deep," she said, pressing firmly against the wound as Bruno winced again. "What did he…? I didn't even see what he hit you with, I didn't hear a gunshot…"

"Some sort of projectile," Bruno answered truthfully. He wasn't entirely sure either, hadn't had the chance to get a really good look at the man's Stand. He wasn't entirely glad to know they now had two new Stand users to worry about. That just made this all that much harder.

"It might need stitches," she said worriedly as she pulled the cloth away again, and the wound still bled sluggishly.

"It's fine," Bruno assured her, glancing her way. Her hair brushed against his bare shoulder briefly as she bent and for some reason—maybe it was the blood loss or adrenaline, all he could think about was how she smelled of vanilla and…was that strawberry?

He found himself inhaling to better find out as she leaned across him to grab some butterfly bandages.

"Okay, but you really should get it looked at."

He blinked and snapped out of his musings, slightly embarrassed. He would blame the blood loss. "My team has a medic," He told her. Not that he would bother Giorno with something so small; his zippers would do well enough for this.

"I'm sorry this has been such a mess," she told him with a deep breath.

"No harm done, I've had much worse," Bruno told her wryly and her eyes again landed on the roping scar on his shoulder before quickly tacking the fresh wound together with butterfly bandages and wrapping gauze around it. Her fingers were careful and precise, no longer trembling with this new purpose as she tucked the end of the bandage in and turned to clean the cut on his face, closing that as well.

She was just finishing when they heard the bell from the door tinkle. Maria stiffened.

"Bucciarati!"

Bruno relaxed at the familiar voice. "My colleagues," he told Maria. "Back here!" he called.

He tugged his coat back in place, surreptitiously summoning Sticky Fingers to close the wound properly, before standing up as Abbacchio and Mista found the office. Abbacchio's eyes instantly went to the obvious blood staining Bruno's white suit.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Marcello paid a visit," Bruno told him. "He's looking for the drugs Maria's brother had on him and seemed to be keeping from Marcello for some reason. I've already scoured this place, though and there's no sign of them."

"So, I guess we need to find them now?" Mista asked, nodding a greeting to Maria. "Any idea where they might be if not here?"

"I was going to check in David's apartment," Maria told him. "I haven't really had the chance to go through his stuff yet…"

"We can help you if you want," Bruno told her.

A little relief showed in her slumped shoulders. "Thank you."

Bruno turned to Mista and Abbacchio. "Mista, take Maria out to the car."

He nodded and motioned for Maria to follow him. When they were out of the room, Bruno turned to Abbacchio.

"What did you find?"

"Not much," Abbacchio grunted. "But I was able to watch the replay of the game where David bet the bakery. Couldn't see the note itself obviously, but the terms were verbally given. It sounded straight-forward to me, pretty normal for that sort of thing. Bad deals written on napkins."

Bruno used Sticky Fingers to unzip the back of his coat where he had stashed the ledgers and pulled them out to show Abbacchio. "Do these numbers match up with the deal?"

Abbacchio frowned, scanning the lines. "Yeah, as far as I know. So, I guess he did actually pay it off."

"There's more going on," Bruno said. "I think he might have been running drugs for several dealers in the area, and either found a more lucrative business partner than Marcello or his conscious caught up with him. Either way, I think he decided he didn't want to deal with Marcello anymore and took whatever stash of his he had and tucked it away."

"Which is why Marcello killed him," Abbacchio grunted. "What makes you think he didn't just dump the drugs in the canal?"

"Because he was making good money, had put a lot away actually if it's to be believed," Bruno said, holding up the second leger.

"And money can definitely be a motivation," Abbacchio growled.

Bruno's stomach twisted sickly for his friend, hating to bring up anything relating to his past, but Abbacchio knew well enough how people acted. "They may be in the apartment. You can use Moody Blues to make the search easier."

Abbacchio nodded and started toward the door when Bruno caught his sleeve. "One other thing; Marcello and his second are both Stand users. I didn't get much of a chance to tell what their abilities are, but I would make a guess that Marcello's is a powerful short-range Stand with defensive abilities and the other is definitely a projectile Stand." He touched his arm for reference.

Abbacchio's lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, there's still more of us than them. Let's just worry about finding the drugs right now."

They headed out to the car and joined up with Mista and Maria as Abbacchio got behind the wheel and drove them to her brother's apartment.

Bruno glanced back at her, seeing the woman slumped quietly in the seat and his heart panged at the sight. It just really wasn't fair, that innocent people had to get involved in the evil of this city.

But getting rid of Marcello was just one more step toward achieving their goal to keep that from happening. They just needed to get there first.

Maria busied herself with making coffee as the three mafia men searched her brother's apartment. Bucciarati and Mista seemed to be more consistent, but the tall, silver-haired man—Abbacchio, she remembered—switched from simply standing in one place for a few minutes, to pacing around the apartment before stopping at another place and repeating the process as if he were following something invisible. It was confusing, like the brief fight in the bakery had been earlier. She had heard weird rumors about the members of Passione having strange powers, but hadn't really thought about it much until now. Still, there was no real excuse for the fact that she hadn't actually seen what Bucciarati had been shot with, nor did she have an explanation for how it looked like he had suddenly sunk into the floor.

She shook her head and went to grab cups, filling them up before turning to call to Abbacchio who was the only one currently in the room.

"How do you take your coffee?" she asked him.

He blinked, and glanced over at her, a frown on his face, before it eased slightly. "Just black." She picked up one of the cups and brought it over to him. He finally stopped pacing and took it.

"Finding anything?" she asked hesitantly.

Abbacchio glanced at the air at his shoulder with a strange look, then shook his head. "No. Not yet. Thanks for the coffee," he added.

She nodded, glancing toward the bedroom where Bucciarati and Mista were currently looking through David's closet. "How do they like their coffee?" she asked to distract herself.

Abbacchio glanced at her again. "You can just dump a crapload of sugar into Mista's," he snorted. "Bruno takes his with a little sugar and cream."

Bruno. For some reason the familiarity of someone calling Bucciarati by his given name while talking to her made her feel warm inside. Why was that? Certainly, it had nothing to do with how he had come barging into the bakery earlier without a thought to protect her from Marcello…

She realized she was still standing there blankly and Abbacchio was watching her with a strange look. She blushed slightly and shook herself. "Of course. Thanks."

She hurried back to make the two other coffees, carefully measuring out sugar and cream. She was slightly startled to realize Abbacchio hadn't moved back into the room, instead standing on the other side of the counter, watching her with an expression that betrayed a soft interior to his seemingly gruff armor.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her.

Maria bit her lip. "I just…I don't really know how to process everything. A couple weeks ago, I was just finishing school and planning on coming back here to help David run the business; and then he got killed, and I find out he was dealing drugs…" She took a shuddering breath. "Sorry…it's just been a lot…"

"You don't have to apologize, I know how quickly life can go to shit," Abbacchio said wryly. "But we're going to get you through this. Bruno…his whole thing is helping people. Yeah, he's a mafioso, and no one's going to pretend he doesn't have blood on his hands, but he's a good person. He really cares about this city and the people who live here."

Maria glanced toward the doorway where Bucciarati and Mista were still searching, shifting boxes around in the closet. "I really appreciate it," she said quietly. "I wouldn't have known what to do otherwise."

"It's okay," Abbacchio told her. "Very few people would."

Maria sighed and took the other cups of coffee, heading into David's room, which was now even more of a mess than it had been before. Bucciarati was crouched on the floor, looking through the boxes Mista unloaded from the closet.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Bucciarati glanced up at her quickly and there was a small smile on his lips. "Not yet, but we haven't gotten through it all yet." He reached to grab another box, and gasped slightly at the weight.

"Careful, your arm!" Maria said before she could bite her tongue.

"Damn, Bucciarati, I forgot," Mista said sheepishly.

"It's fine," Bucciarati replied, letting the box fall to the ground at his feet. "I forgot as well."

"It hasn't opened again, has it?" Maria asked, coming further into the room."

Bucciarati offered her a small, almost amused, smile. "Please don't worry about it, it's perfectly fine."

Maria felt slightly embarrassed, of course it was just a cut. She'd seen the awful scars that Bucciarati bore—she refused to think of how they were partially covered with the tattoos that were visible even now through the open front of his suit—and of course something like the arm wound would be trivial compared to those. She fought a shudder, not wanting to know what had caused them.

"I thought you might like some coffee," she said, holding up the cups, finally remembering why she had come in here.

"Ah, how thoughtful," Bucciarati smiled and straightened up, taking the cup she handed him.

Mista dropped the box he was carrying and took the other cup, sipping. "Wow, this is just how I like it."

Maria flushed slightly. "Abbacchio told me."

Mista raised an eyebrow. "You've already managed to charm Abbacchio into talking to you? Wow! You must be as sweet as you look."

Maria blushed harder, and Bucciarati stepped in, shooting Mista a look. "Don't mind him. Thank you for the coffee."

Maria nodded and retreated from the room, catching Abbacchio back at his strange searching ritual, a furrow between his brows.

"Um…what exactly are you doing?" she chanced asking after watching him for a few more seconds.

He glanced over at her, looking a bit at a loss for words. "I can't really explain it," he finally said. "I just…have a system."

"Oh," Maria replied and sat down at the counter, drinking her own coffee. She wondered if she should be helping, but, honestly, these men probably knew more about where drugs might be kept than she did, and she really wasn't very familiar with David's apartment anyway.

They all searched for another hour before they finally seemed to exhaust their resources.

"Nothing?" Bucciarati asked Abbacchio.

"No," the silver-haired man replied. "I don't think he hid the stuff here. It would be a stupid move anyway."

"Maria," Bucciarati turned to her and she felt an odd thrill to hear her name on his tongue. "Is there any other place you could think of that your brother would hide something like this?"

She ran a hand through her hair, agitated. "I really don't know. I mean, it's been a while since I've been in the city. He may have known of a place that I don't. I'll think about it though and let you know."

"Bucciarati," Abbacchio said in a low voice. "Do you think Marcello will have the same thought as we did and try to look for the stash here?"

Maria felt ice clutch her insides as she thought of waking up in the middle of the night to find Marcello and his men in the apartment…

Bucciarati's face darkened as well. "You're right. Maria, do you have another place you could stay while we're sorting this out? I would hate to think of you here alone."

"Um…well, I'm sure I could find someone who knew my father that I could stay with, but on short notice…"

"Don't worry about it," Bucciarati said suddenly. "You can come stay with us. We have an extra room, and you'll certainly be safe there."

"Yeah, no one would dare to break into the Don of Passione's house," Mista told her with a proud smile.

"Oh…" she bit her lip, feeling awkward that these mafiosi were doing so much for her, when she was essentially a nobody who had just happened to ask for help in a moment of desperation. "Only if it's not any trouble."

"Of course not, cara mio," Bucciarati assured her warmly, making her, in turn, rather warm inside. "As long as you don't mind living with my team for a while."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be fine," she said quickly. Anything would be better than worrying about Marcello coming to call here.

"We'd love to have you," Mista told her with a kind smile. "And Trish will definitely be happy to have another girl around."

Maria smiled slightly and nodded. "Okay, thank you very much."

"Pack what you need and we'll be off then," Bucciarati told her.

Maria hurried to the unused room that she had set up a cot in. She hadn't really un-packed yet at all, so it only took her a few minutes to gather her stuff and grab her keys, locking the apartment up behind them.

She started when a hand landed lightly on the small of her back to guide her toward the car and turned to find herself far too close to Bucciarati. She nearly tripped over her bag and his eyes widened, catching her elbow instead.

"Careful," he cautioned with a small smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," she forced out, face flaming in embarrassment. She had to get a grip on herself.

Abbacchio bent to grab her bag, shooting a quick look that was something like a smirk at Bucciarati before he followed Mista down the stairs. Maria hurried after, wanting to avoid any more awkwardness.

It had been an awfully long day and she was extremely tired. Something told her she wasn't going to get a lot of rest in the days to come, though.

Especially if she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach every time she so much as looked at Bucciarati.

What a horrible time for a crush to happen.