His Salvation: Cavalieri Della Morte

by Marta, Claire

  Reaching forward, he slips a wide length of tape over my face. Bringing it around, he fastens it behind my head. Keeping my teeth clenched in frustration, I wish they were sinking into my kidnapper’s flesh. I glare at him, knowing my eyes are filled with flashing hate.

  “Good girl,” he praises, voice husky. Straightening, he surveys me with a look of approval.

  Turning my head, I focus on the door. If he’s leaving me alone, then maybe I have a chance at grabbing someone’s attention outside the room. Even cuffed and gagged, if I make enough noise people might get curious. A small ember of hope flickers awake. I still have a chance to get out of this. If my jailer is gone long enough, I could be rescued before he returns.

  A sting in my arm catches me off guard making me whimper. Attention lowering, I see the empty syringe held between his long fingers.

  “And that should keep you quiet for a while.” He gives me a knowing look then at the door before smiling coldly. “You really think I was going to leave you alone and conscious? I’ve been in this game a very long-time, petal, and you’re not the first hostage I’ve held captive.”

  Screams of rage and defiance are muffled by the tape. I rock my body banging the headboard into the wall, slamming it forward and back, I keep up a rhythm. Pain rocks through my spine up to my shoulders, but I don’t stop what I’m doing. He’s the devil. How many other innocent people has he snatched from their lives to use and terrorize? Threaten and humiliate?

  “You’ll only end up hurting yourself. Bruise all that pretty skin,” he warns, watching me with disapproval.

  Wooziness hits me hard. Warmth sliding through my body, I still as it cocoons me. I know it’s the sedative at work. It’s the last thought I have before everything descends into darkness.

  Kay

  The club is heaving with Italians and tourists as I step inside. A hot spot on everyone’s must see list when coming to Rome.

  Unlike the trendy nightclubs the young are drawn to, La Fuga holds a fifties charm. From starlets to movie stars, the décor and staff mirror the bygone era. It’s a step back in time. One people are willing to pay well for.

  They’re oblivious to who it’s run by.

  Paulo Jilani.

  Head of the Jilani crime family.

  Officially in the public eye, he’s nothing more than a rich business man. A family man and entrepreneur. What people don’t see is the power he wields. He’s one of the deadliest men in Italy. The underbelly of the city is his. Drug, weapons, anything shady, and he has a hand in it. Everything except human trafficking. That’s something that goes against his code. Whoever it is trying to have me taken out, he’ll know or can get me the information. Everything revolves into his gravity at some point or least someone connected to him.

  A live band is playing a set up on a raised dais stage. The dulcet tones of the mocha-skinned beauty, in a shimmering short gold dress, washes over the crowd. Smooth and powerful, it reminds me of a fine whisky. Swelling, it rises, rolling out in powerful waves with the old Italian love song.

  Moving through the enthralled throng, I make my way toward the bar. I know I’ve been clocked. Can feel the eyes on me. Paulo’s men are efficient guard dogs. No one’s been able to touch him since he took the head of the family from his father by force five decades ago.

  Even before I’ve reached the polished wooden bar, a well-built male in an expensive suit is stepping to intercept me.

  “He’s waiting for you, Mr. Lockwood.” Unreadable familiar eyes meet mine, his voice low and respectful.

  The smile that softens my lips is the first genuine one I’ve had in an hour. “It’s been a while, Stefano.”

  “Three years,” he points out, accepting my offered hand in a firm shake. “I was starting to think you’d gotten yourself killed.”

  Right hand man to the Jilani Don, Stefano had been a constant shadow in my life. A watchful protector keeping me out of trouble as a boy. Not that it had always helped. Trouble had a way of finding me in different forms.

  “You taught me better than that.”

  Tilting his head, he nods, his gaze warming. “We did, and I’m glad to hear you’ve been putting it to use.” Holding out his arm politely, he directs me across the room. Letting him precede me, we make our way across the floor.

  Memories of a childhood I would rather forget seep through the cracks in my thoughts. Pain, violence, loss. A boy who’d had everything ripped away from him in a single moment. These events mold us. Shape us into the adults we are today. One action can affect an entire life and sometimes even more. Would I be who I am today without them? Maybe, Maybe not. All I know is that killing was in my blood from the day I was born.

  A man stands at attention as we approach where he’s guarding a door. The glance he spares me is cursory. Though, it’s enough to let me know he’s checking for weapons. Door opening, we’re ushered inside before it clicks closed.

  Stepping into the hallway, I nod at a few of the guards I recognize. They return the greeting. Ten years of my life living among them. Training, working, breathing this world and it’s like I never stepped away.

  “We’ll need your weapon before we proceed any further,” Stefano informs me with an air of apology I know he doesn’t really mean. “And you’ll be searched.”

  Precautions I’m used to in my line of business. Slowly, I slip my gun from its shoulder holster concealed by my leather jacket. Without it, I feel naked, but I know this is the only way I’m going to get past them without bloodshed.

  Stefano is quick to rescue it, tucking it into his belt. “You’ll get it back when you leave.”

  Placing my hands on my head when directed, I stand prone as I’m thoroughly searched. “I better. That was expensive, and I know your fondness for firearms.”

  That earns me a smirk.

  They find the knife strapped to my ankle and the spare gun hidden against my spine. Each one is taken and placed on a table. When impersonal fingers roughly sweep my ribs, I try not to flinch. The wound throbs, reminding me of the stitches and Eve.

  Setting up a portable motion detector before leaving, an app on my phone will warn me if my hotel room is breached. As I don’t know how long the Russians have had me under surveillance, I’m not sure how safe I am. Hopefully my pretty petal will remain undiscovered.

  “He’s clean.” The guard searching me finally announces.

  Stefano eyes the arsenal before he nods. “This way, Mr. Lockwood.”

  We both know if I wanted to kill his boss I’m quite capable of doing it without a weapon. Trained in hand-to-hand combat and several forms of martial arts, I can take out a target without breaking a sweat.

  As one, we walk along the corridor to the door at the end of the hall. Nerves I haven’t felt in years start to crawl around inside my stomach. The reason I’ve avoided this. A past I buried in a box inside me.

  Stefano doesn’t bother to knock. Thrusting the door open, he ushers me inside.

  It’s the salt and pepper hair of the man behind the desk I catch sight of first as I enter. Deep grooves lining his features, he looks like he’s aged since I saw him last. The weight of the world bowing the once tall, broad shoulders.

  “She’s not?” Paulo’s brows crease in concern with whatever’s being said on the phone held to his ear. “Well, you know women; she might have stopped to shop or eat. Keep me posted.”

  His wife or one of his numerous mistresses? Even in his seventies, I know from the tabs I’ve kept on him he hasn’t slowed down. Paulo grabs life by the balls. Whatever he can squeeze out from each moment, he takes. He demands respect and loyalty out of those around him. Cross him and it’s a mistake you don’t make again.

  Motioning me in with a finger, I venture further into his office. I’m surprised we’re alone. It’s not like Stefano to be so careless. Then again knowing his employer, he probably gave an order for us not to be disturbed.

  Finishing up his call, the smile that lights up his expression is something I m
irror as he rises to meet me. “Kay! You look pale.”

  “It’s been a long night. You’re looking good, Paulo.” I take the hand he offers. The strength is still there. I feel it in his grip. Showing weakness around men in a world like this is a mistake we don’t make. We’re cut from the same cloth.

  “Not dead yet. You should have come and seen us sooner, or were you trying to sneak in and out avoiding us completely? That’s not polite. I raised you better than that,” he scolds.

  “I’ve been caught up in things, but I was going to visit,” I lie. Paulo brings complications. Ones that I walked away from when I was eighteen. I’m a ghost. In and out of the cities, my hits are assigned. It’s how I keep one step ahead.

  “Well, you’re here now.”

  I accept the cigarette he holds out to me. “How’s business?”

  “Good. Mauro is here for a few days. He’s been away in Milan, representing me on business.” Paulo inclines his head while stowing the packet and lighter back in his pocket. He prefers cigars. A box of them already sits open on the table to his left, a cigar cutter resting on top.

  After my parents were murdered, it was Paulo who took me in. They were in the same business. Guns for hire. A boy traumatized by the slaughter he had witnessed. Frightened and alone. He was the one to hone me into what I am today. Became a father figure to me.

  Lighting up my smoke, I keep my expression stoic. It’s no secret I never got on well with Mauro, the little shit. He’s more trouble than he’s worth. Not worthy of the DNA they share. He has no sense of business. All he wants is fun and power. Mauro thinks he can get away with anything without consequence. Out of respect for his father, I keep my own council unless asked.

  Blowing out a puff of smoke, I let my lips curve up in a smile. “I’m sure Chiara will be happy to have him home.”

  The venomous bitch. She’d resented my presence the second I’d stepped into their house. That had only grown over time. Chiara had become adapt at finding ways to punish me. A belt. The fist of her personal driver. Whatever small indiscretion she imagined up, her discipline was harsh and swift.

  “Eh, his mother spoils him. It’s the reason he causes me so much trouble. At least he’s engaged now. How about you? Have you got a woman in your life, at last?””

  “I don’t have time for something permanent.”

  An image Evelyn tumbles into my head. Blue eyes glaring at me with simmering rage, naked and cuffed to my bed. Exactly how I’d left her. My shaft hardens, bobbing up in eager response. It was fortunate I’d gathered gear for a kidnapping. A couple of times an assassination has turned into a snatch and grab at the last minute. I like to be prepared just in case now. Everything is easy to purchase if you know the right people. I can’t get the thought of how good Evelyn would look impaled on the end of my cock out of my head. I need to banish the image. She has no right to be there. Thinking about a piece of pretty pussy will get me in trouble. My mind needs to be focused.

  “You want one of the girls tonight? Maybe two?” Paulo offers with a knowing look. “They can work some of the tension out of you.”

  Taking another puff of my smoke, I chuckle. I’ve always had a high sex drive. The way I fuck, it’s a surprise any of the women I’ve had can walk straight afterward. I’ve been known to take more than one at a time to my bed. Whores are the easiest. They come for cash, no questions asked, and leave when needed.

  “No thanks. Not this time. I have other things that concern me tonight other than fucking.” Taking another deep drag, the smoke fills my lungs, the nicotine buzzing through my system.

  Paulo grins. “Some blow then for later?”

  I drop easily into the chair he motions to. “No, thank you. I was set up, and I need to know who by.”

  “The client who hired you?” Retaking his own seat, he reaches for the decanter of scotch he keeps on his desk. All pleasantries aside, we fall into business.

  “I’m not sure. The men who came after me were well trained. Mercenaries. Russians. I’ve tailed the target for a week and never once saw anything suspicious.” I tell him, stubbing out the cigarette and accepting the glass of amber liquid. “You always have one ear to what’s going on in the city. I thought you might have heard something.”

  “If I’d even had an inkling there was a target on your head, I would have contacted you.”

  That news eases some of my stiffness. “I’m grateful for that.”

  He raised me, but still, he’s not my blood. I’ve seen what he does to people who displease him. I walked away from him. From this. The place he’d set out for me as his new top man. That’s something not easily forgiven, and I admit I’ve wonder after all these years if he’d held a grudge.

  Staring down at the contents of his glass, he swirls it idly. “We’re family. I still view you as another son. Maybe I’m getting sentimental and old, but that’s important. I’ll see what I can turn up. I suggest you don’t stay in one place too long. If they are seasoned hitmen like yourself, they’ll be hunting you.”

  Hunt. Locate. Stalk. Eliminate.

  Arthur and the Cavalieri Della Morte might have me now, but it was this man who taught me to kill. He was at my side when I took my first life. A traitor who deserved a bullet. That day, I gave myself up willingly to the violence in my soul. Embraced my father’s heritage. Since then, I haven’t looked back. Each kill became easier. Feelings of guilt or remorse never came into the equation. There’s something about watching the fear in someone’s eyes right before they die that became a little addictive.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not about to become their prey,” I assure him. Raising my drink, I let the scotch heat its way down my throat into my belly. There will be a trail of corpses, but I won’t be one of them.

  “Any complications I need to know about?” he questions, the coldness in his gaze assuring me if there is he’ll have it taken care of.

  My thoughts flick to Eve. She’s mine to deal with. For now, though, my sweet, pretty petal can help relieve a little of my stress.

  “None.”

  “I’ll phone you when I have some information.”

  Discarding my empty glass, I rise to my feet. “Grazie, Paulo.”

  I need to get my arse back to the hotel. Foreboding is my constant company. A shadow looming menacingly just out of reach. Somehow, it seems to be telling me that even with Paulo’s help I’m not going to be safe.

  Evelyn

  Anger smoulders through me. It’s been fuelling me since I woke to find myself alone. How long I’ve been knocked out, I can’t be sure, but my arms and jaw ache. Rocking to and fro, the headboard slams into the wall behind me. The movement is jarring and painful, but the bangs are loud and rhythmic. Screaming my frustration behind the tape over my mouth, I use my feet on the mattress to propel myself backward. Someone has to hear me? Wonder who’s making so much noise? Where the hell are all the guests in this place? Reception should have sent someone up to investigate by now. The darkness outside the window indicates it’s late. I can’t believe this is futile. That someone won’t get curious.

  The sound of a key turning in the lock has my gaze bouncing to the door. This is it. My chance. Rattling my wrists locked in the handcuffs, I bury my embarrassment at being half naked. If this gets me out of here, I don’t care who sees my tits.

  The door swings open, and my captor saunters in. “You been enjoying yourself, petal?”

  Defeat is bitter. My rude response is an intelligible sound behind my gag.

  He chuckles. “I hope you’ve tired yourself out. All you’ve done is convince everyone in the hotel you’re a world class whore who fucks like a pro with all your banging. I’ve already been asked how much I charge for your services.”

  Glaring at him morosely, I wish I could melt the flesh of his face with my eyes. I hate the power he has over me. That he’s keeping me captive just for his amusement.

  Stalking toward the mattress, he tuts when he sees my wrists. Tender, stinging, they’ve alre
ady darkened with bruises from my attempted escape. The stiffness in my bound arms only adds to my discomfort. Looming over me, he carefully undoes the duct tape around my head. As it slips from my mouth, I groan, licking my dry lips.

  “I’m not a prostitute,” I spit, pain lancing through my shoulders as I move.

  Stroking his hand down from my cheek, he runs his fingers through the length of my hair. “Don’t worry the only man you’ll be spreading your thighs for is me while you scream my name.”

  “You touch me, and I’ll yell the place down.” I don’t want to admit that the caressing feels strangely good. This man with no name has the face of a dark angel. I know it’s a deception. Can see death and darkness playing behind the beauty of his eyes.

  “I think deep down you’re a dirty girl who gets off on things like this,” he tells me, the heat of his breath making me shiver as it skims over my cheek.

  “Fuck you. You’re a sick pervert!”

  “I don’t like liars.” He levels me a look so hot my mouth goes dry.

  Using his weight, he forces me flat. Wiggling still cuffed to the bed, there’s no way to flee. Hand brushing down my naked stomach achingly slow, it halts at the edge of my panties.

  Breath hitching, I can’t deny the hot arrows of pleasure even though I try. He’s my captor. Tormenter. Nothing he does should feel nice.

  Light, teasing, the tips of his fingers dip beneath the material to find my shaved mound.

  “No.” Moving restlessly I can’t stop the moan escaping my throat as he finds the slickness between my legs. Easing a finger inside me, he has no trouble pushing it deep.

  Dark smug eyes meet mine. “Seems someone enjoys being tied up and gagged. Are you into bondage petal, or is this all just for me?”

  Humiliation heats my cheeks with a blush I know must be cherry red from the way he watches me with male glee. I shouldn’t be turned on. Have no idea why my traitorous body is reacting in this way to him. While it feels pleasure, the sane side of me can feel nothing but disgust.