Taking The Night (Nightshade series Book 1)

by J F Posthumus

  “Think what you want. Perhaps I have money to burn and haven't had a lovely lady to spend any of it on,” he countered.

  She studied him, a curious smile on her face. “Perhaps, but I want you to know I appreciate it.” She leaned over and kissed his masked cheek. “It isn't like I have handsome men giving me gifts very often. Well, those I don’t consider family.” She winked and typed in the password to the laptop, her fingers became a blur over the keyboard.

  “At least you didn't make jokes about getting a young male ward and dressing him in bright, vibrant colors, instead.”

  She snickered as the laptop loaded. Clicking on a folder on the desktop, she turned her attention to him as it opened. “I can honestly say that thought has never crossed my mind: Unlike the idea of undressing you.”

  “You'll notice I haven't stopped you from doing that.”

  “That's just not fair,” she complained. She leaned back, ignoring the laptop. “For a man who has worked hard at keeping his identity a secret, I'm rather surprised you'd be willing to... bare all for someone you just met. Someone who works for and is the adopted daughter of one of the crime families you typically work against.” She paused. “You aren't planning on killing me to keep it a secret, are you?”

  “I believe in a balanced relationship with women,” the Sandman replied. “I have more than enough of your secrets. If you expose me, I expose you. It's simple, and it's fair.”

  She gave a slight nod of her head. “Fair enough. I have no reason to expose you.” She turned back to the screen as she added teasingly, “Though, you didn't kiss me back, so I hope you'll forgive my lack of ravaging you like I want to.”

  “Oh, is that what it would take?”

  “Well, it's not like I want to jump someone who's not that interested,” she countered, a grin on her face. She really had no clue what was on the screen because the conversation was getting far too heated for anything else.

  “You're just sore because you want me to take you like something out of a romance novel. I'd happily do that if we weren't trying to keep you safe.” He pointed at the screen. “Unless you would rather get naughty instead of finding out what's on your laptop. You did ask me to bring it in here, after all.”

  “Oh, fine,” she sighed, only half-serious. “Work first, play later.”

  She gave him a sidelong gaze that didn't hide any of her feelings for him before looking back to the laptop. Her eyes narrowed as she opened the first document. Coordinates were the first thing she saw. She recognized them as the nautical position for her homeland.

  “Selia?” she heard the Sandman say. “You've suddenly tensed up. What is it?”

  “This is information about how to get to my homeland. The names below? Those are the names of the ruling families and traders.” She scrolled down to find a couple of paragraphs written in Temerian.

  “What the hell?” she whispered, leaning forward even more. “Son of a...” She trailed off rereading the paragraphs to make certain she wasn't misunderstanding anything.

  No, she hadn't misunderstood anything, and it didn't make her happy. In fact, it left her with even more questions. Leaning back on the sofa, she folded her arms across her chest.

  “Damn, I wish I could talk to Soren without anyone listening in to our conversation,” she muttered. She glanced over at the Sandman. “Do you want to know more about this or stay in the dark?”

  “It's your choice to tell me or not. I prefer to know everything I can.”

  “That's fair.” Selia said, turning her gaze towards the ceiling. “According to that,” she waved towards the laptop, “There is, and has been for decades, an agreement between the Families and Temeria. It doesn't go into detail, which is really annoying. Only four people are supposed to have this information, but it doesn't say what happens if anyone else learns the information.” She shook her head. “It's as though someone clipped out two or three paragraphs of an eighty-page contract.”

  “Are you sure it's all of the Families? Not just yours? I only ask because I got the impression that not a lot of shipping boats came to your homeland. I also can't see how other Families wouldn't have people like you on their payroll or... as workers, shall we say?” The Sandman scratched at his chin. “If the other families were as familiar with your people, wouldn't someone have recognized you for who you are, and made a move to take you or bribe you away?”

  “I don't know. The two Families that matter in this city, as far as I know, are the Lascari and Vaschetti Families. Those names are repeated throughout this.” She continued skimming over the document as she replied. “I do know there are several of my kind in the adult film industry. The Vaschettis deal in human trafficking and they buy the criminals of my homeland who aren't sentenced to death.”

  “That certainly explains a lot. But... the adult film industry?” He shook his head. “That makes some sense, I suppose.”

  “Beautiful women who don't age like the rest of the females on the planet? What wouldn’t be appealing about that?” Selia asked with a shrug. “Soren and I had a long... discussion about it one time.” Discussion or scolding, call it what you wanted, but the conversation had started because of her naïveté about her people, their ruthlessness, and how they compared to the Family. “I need answers, but I can't ask Al. I’ll have to wait until Soren is better.” She gave a heavy sigh. “Guess it’s time to talk to Lucien about what he stole.”

  “Okay, so now you want to talk to the other most powerful male in this city.” The Sandman sighed. “Sure, I always enjoy interrupting their nights. Got a favorite actor? I'll try to look like a bad impersonator of him.”

  Laughing, Selia leaned forward before shoving him over until he fell back against the sofa. She leaned over him, smiling down into his face.

  “You do realize there are other ways to get someone's attention, yes?” she asked, one hand against the back of the sofa, the other on the armrest. “I do have his number, so I could just call him and set up a meeting.”

  She could see the challenge in his eyes as he spoke. “And he would just agree to a meeting with you because...?”

  “Because he knows me, for one,” she replied. “For another, I can offer him what he wants.”

  “What does he want, oh Amazonian warrior woman?” the Sandman teased. He was completely relaxed.

  She scooted over until she was practically on top of him. Her eyes twinkled as she replied, “He wants what belongs to him: The data on that laptop. The problem is, he doesn't know I have a copy of it. So he'll be interested in what Soren's daughter can offer him.” She shrugged. “Besides, he'll see it as a chance to sway me to his side.” She paused and leaned down closer. “Wouldn’t you want a chance to claim what belongs to you?”

  “I don't get that materialistic. But I concede your point.”

  “You aren't like most people, especially those who are ruled by greed and power,” she admitted, kissing his mouth lightly through his mask. She flopped back over onto the sofa, a smile on her lips. “At least you aren't asking why I have Lucien's phone number.”

  “I also haven't asked why you keep hinting about having wild, passionate sex and yet both of us are still wearing clothes.” He stood up and went to the bar. “You haven't asked how I can afford all this. For all you know, I'm a member of one of the Families, trying to destroy them from within and without, to pay for their sins.”

  “You probably wouldn't tell me even if I asked,” she mused aloud. “As long as you don't try to hurt Soren, I don't care what you do.” She stood and watched him pour himself a drink. She furrowed her brows and sighed as she realized something. “I don't want there to be any questions as to why I want you. I don't want to be in the middle of us having wild, passionate sex only to have something happen.” She turned back to the laptop, muttering, “Or have you decided you don't want someone who works for the Family you fight against.”

  “The pouting really doesn't suit you,” he retorted. “If I felt that you or your adopted fathe
r were so bad, I wouldn't be helping either of you survive this not-so-little coup of Alfi's. I simply would rather focus on getting this situation handled, and then enjoy the full pleasure of a beautiful woman's company. Otherwise, as you suggest, something might happen, or other distracting thoughts could seep in.”

  Selia had the good grace to flush at his comments. “At least we're more or less on the same page.”

  She glanced back at him. He was a strange, unique man who tempted every part of her. Maybe it was more than lust shoving her along the path. She could deal with that. She hoped. Instead of dwelling on that line of thought, she pulled out the burner phone Al had given her. She had turned off the GPS even before Al had called her, so she wasn't worried about that. Punching in a set of numbers, she paced while waiting for Lucien to answer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  S elia had no clue why Lucien Vaschetti had chosen a graveyard of all places to meet. Well, to be more accurate, they were supposed to meet on the outside of the graveyard near the back entrance. Perhaps this was his way of trying to intimidate her. If so, he was failing miserably, because the dead held no fear for Selia.

  The Sandman had driven her across the city, parked his motorcycle, and led her through a few abandoned subway systems and waterways before taking her over a series of rooftops. A good thing she kept in shape, or she would’ve been out of breath before getting a fourth of the way to the meeting place.

  She was armed and wore a long black trench coat over her clothes, hiding her weaponry. The fact she now bore a strong resemblance to the Sandman in general appearance was slightly amusing. The Sandman hadn’t liked the idea of her meeting Lucien, but he also hadn’t had much of a say in the matter. Lucien had the knowledge she needed, and Selia suspected she was a key part to the whole problem. Or perhaps, her heritage was the key to it all.

  A long, black limo sat pulled over in the grass, just far enough from the stone wall of the cemetery for the passenger doors to open. A black sedan was parked in front and another behind the limo. Two black-suited men stood at each sedan. They had the same never-changing, surly expressions that reminded her of golems.

  Another two stood at the back passenger door of the limo. Selia kept her stride steady and confident. Each of these men had at least two guns and could draw on a moment’s notice. Though they might not have an itchy trigger finger, she didn’t plan on giving them a reason to think they needed to raise a weapon against her, either.

  Behind her, in the shadows of an alley, the Sandman watched from a fire escape. Selia could sense his eyes following her and it gave her a feeling of safety, knowing she had backup if she needed it. She hoped she wouldn’t require another rescue.

  One of Lucien’s bodyguards opened the door as she stepped into their cluster. Lucien Vaschetti stepped out but didn’t move. No, he was waiting for her to come to him: A show of power. She knew how these games worked and she had to play them, or at least pretend to.

  She paused and nodded to the man who led the Vaschetti Family. His hair was as dark as Al’s, but was starting to gray at the temples, giving him an aristocratic appearance. His face held more lines, adding depth to the inch-wide scar running from the top of his cheekbone to his chin. Brilliant blue eyes were what she remembered most; cold and hard, yet mesmerizing.

  Lucien was fit, despite the graying hair and lined face. He wore his tailored Armani suit well. A thick gold ring circled his left ring finger and a signet ring flashed in the dim light on his right hand.

  “Ah, Selia Laios Lascari,” he said, his voice as smooth as warmed honey. “You have grown more beautiful since last I saw you.”

  Flatterer, she thought. Time to return the gesture. “You’re still as charming as ever, Lucien. Though I believe you have only grown more handsome over the years.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Age had given his hard, cold face character and depth, something he had lacked the last time they’d met. Of course, she’d also been eighteen and still pretty naïve.

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes, though he kept his gracious posture. “Come, child. Let us speak in the privacy of the limousine. We are here as potential allies, meeting due to you unknowingly being drawn into a scheme by one of your former Family members, who has since gone rogue.” He sighed. Selia suspected it was fake. “It is truly a shame when one so beautiful is used and then nearly killed due to blatant duplicity by one she should have been able to trust.”

  Yes, after all, everyone in the criminal underworld is trustworthy, she thought as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Selia didn’t give voice to her thoughts. Instead, she forced a smile to her lips as she continued toward Lucien.

  “Unfortunately, it’s all true. I must confess, I’m surprised you’re aware of everything that has transpired,” Selia said, accepting Lucien’s outstretched hand. “I sincerely apologize for the theft from your business.”

  Lucien kissed her knuckles like an old-time gentleman before stepping to the side and gesturing for her to enter the limo. She stepped into the vehicle, not liking it, but knowing she couldn’t refuse and still learn what she needed.

  “Your apology is accepted,” Lucien replied, following her into the limo. The door closed and he turned, leaning against it casually. “However, I do not feel you were responsible. You were following orders, showing loyalty to your own Family. Those of us who still appreciate the old ways cannot fault you.”

  The old ways of this country and Italy believe that women have no mind of their own. A man told them what to do, and as long as they did it, they were good little girls, Selia thought bitterly, but she continued to smile at Lucien.

  “You seem exceedingly knowledgeable about me and my movements.”

  “My dear, surely you know we have eyes everywhere. Not only myself and my organization, but yours as well.” He leaned forward and from somewhere pulled a wine bottle and two glasses. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t drink,” Selia replied. It wasn’t quite a lie. She never drank in a social setting. Only where no one else would see her and know. Lucien should have known that fact, so she suspected he was testing her. “I shouldn’t be surprised by your knowledge, but considering my position within the Family, it isn’t something I think about often.”

  “Ah, that is right. Such a pity,” he said, pouring himself a glass. “You are a wise girl. Most women aren’t satisfied with just doing their job. They want more.”

  “I’m loyal to Soren, Lucien,” Selia said softly. “It’s no secret I do as he bids and am happy with my position. It’s a good life.”

  Lucien gave her a sharp glance and his voice became colder. “Everyone has aspirations. What are yours?”

  “To survive,” she replied simply. She paused and leaned back against her side of the limo, giving a relaxed appearance. “Why don’t we drop all the pretenses and games? I met you in the hopes you could explain what is so important about what Alfi stole. I also have a deal to offer you.”

  That caught Lucien’s attention and he perked up like a hound dog catching the scent of its prey. “Indeed. I like a forthright woman. What sort of deal could Soren’s little flower offer me?”

  Selia bit back the first response that came to mind. Insulting a potential ally wasn’t the wisest choice, so she settled for a less defensive answer.

  “Even a rose has thorns, Lucien, and some of the deadliest plants are the most beautiful.” Selia kept her tone light and casual, as though they were discussing the weather. “Answer my questions, and then we’ll discuss your missing data. It’s very possible that I could retrieve it for a small non-monetary price.”

  “I’m intrigued,” Lucien said, and he sounded genuine to Selia. The don took a sip of his wine and settled back against the seat again. “Ask me your questions, little belladonna, and I’ll consider the agreement.”

  Belladonna, the name for deadly nightshade, was a poisonous yet beautiful flower. Selia found it interesting that he compared her to that, despite the fact sh
e had kept a very low profile for the past decade. Perhaps he knew more about her than she originally believed.

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “What was the information Alfi stole? Why is it so imperative it’s retrieved by either you or Al?” She paused before adding, true curiosity ringing in her voice, “And why do you not question my ability to retrieve your information? Twice, I’ve been told to stay out of this, yet you aren’t. Why?”

  Lucien nodded slowly. “You aren’t here trying to gnaw my ear off with useless questions. I like that, so I’ll answer your questions. First, however; what of this payment you spoke of?”

  “Ah, yes,” Selia said softly. “The payment for my delivering what Alfi stole. I want the Vaschetti Family to claim responsibility for the death of Alfi Barboni.” She paused and studied Lucien with a calm, cool gaze. “I’ll do the deed, but your organization admits to it. Not by rumor, either. I want you or one of your underbosses to directly contact Al and make the declaration. Since Alfi has been declared rogue by Al, I doubt there will be an issue.”

  “Deal,” Lucien said without batting a lash. Selia wondered if he even thought about it before agreeing, not that it mattered. “No need to worry about me upholding my end of the bargain, Selia,” he assured her. “Should Alfi fall by your hand, I’ll be certain the Vaschettis accept the glory of his death.”

  “And again, you don’t tell me to not kill him or interfere,” Selia said, keeping his gaze. “Why?”

  “You are right to question my intentions. Perhaps I am hoping you will die. Perhaps I have a nefarious plot to steal you away from Soren and Angelo. But no, little nightshade, I plan neither. I’m aware you are a Temerian. I am aware you arrived in the port upon Soren’s ship and hidden in his house and a cloistered Catholic school, where you graduated, perhaps not with honors, but with high grades.”

  Lucien swirled the wine in his glass before taking another sip. “The information Alfi stole was nothing minor. No, what he stole from Ignacio’s computer is something even you would, or at least should, wish to keep silent.” Lucien’s hard blue eyes captured her gaze and held her in place. “The coordinates and information for your island homeland of Temeria is what Alfi stole. Including the names of the ruling families and who we trade with on the island, as well as what we trade for. He doesn’t want it for himself. He is taking it to Azyre House.”