by Mara McQueen
Zio Rossi sighed. "That woman is trouble."
"All the great ones are." And, God help him, Enzo couldn't wait to see how much more trouble Patrice could be. "I planned on leaving tonight, but if you're here—"
"No, you're leaving in two hours." Zio Rossi sat back down and steepled his fingers. Then he gave Enzo the look. The one that had made him squirm when he'd been a kid and somehow still made his skin crawl to this day. The disappointed look.
"Am I now?" Enzo asked, all humor gone. "The last time I had to leave in a hurry, I'd just toppled a government and had an entire army hunting me down. I didn't meddle into politics tonight."
"This is bigger than some measly civilian government," he said dismissively. Zio Rossi didn't care for or respect civilians—and if the civilians ever found out all the shit he'd pulled as one of the most dangerous men in the Underworld, they wouldn't care for him, either. But Zio Rossi was excellent at covering his tracks. Enzo had learned some of his best moves from him.
"The Runagates placed a bounty on your head," Zio Rossi said gravely. "Five million dollars. Dead. Ten if they catch you alive."
Enzo scoffed. "I'm worth at least ten times as much."
Zio Rossi banged on the table, jaw clenched. "This isn't a joke, Lorenzo. The bounty's worldwide. You'll have hundreds, maybe thousands of Runagates hunting you down."
Now Enzo paid attention. His Zio didn't lose his cool unless shit got really serious. "You're not joking."
Zio Rossi sighed, his face relaxing. "I wish I was. I came here to warn you as soon as I heard."
"This is insane. Darryl wouldn't risk his hide like that."
"He wouldn't. The order came from higher up. And they have a bounty on that fiancée of yours, too."
Enzo grabbed the edges of the table until his knuckles hurt. Trying to hunt him down was one thing—as the Phantom, everyone had a bounty on his head at one point; the highest he'd ever had was fifty million dollars, a personal best—but to even think about endangering Patrice? She was innocent in all of this.
Enzo saw red.
"Why?" he asked eerily calm, even as a storm brewed inside. Enzo had learned early on that showing real emotions made you lose the game before it even started.
"I don't know for sure." Zio Rossi shot him another look. "I do know you broke into Runagate headquarters tonight."
Enzo looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Charles, who was standing in the doorway, still clutching the pastry bag.
"Sir—" Charles gulped. "I didn't want to tell him anything, but you know how persuasive your uncle can be."
Unfortunately, he did. Zio Rossi was relentless. When he wanted something, he shot, bribed, and intimidated anyone who stood in his way.
"There are rumors you stole something very valuable from the Runagates," Zio Rossi went on. "You, not the Phantom, so at least your cover isn't blown. But nobody can tell me what was stolen."
"I didn't take anything," Enzo growled. "I just scanned some documents and then put them right back where they belonged. Neatly, too."
He'd already transferred the scans to a remote server set up by Toni herself. If something happened to him, at least that information was safe and his cousins could access it. They wanted to avenge Victor's death just as much, if not more than Enzo.
"You really don't know what could've gone missing tonight? Did you see anyone else there?" Zio Rossi went on.
"No." Though the dog had started barking out of the blue.
"Then maybe they're using this whole stealing thing as an excuse to hunt you down. You've finally pissed off the wrong people."
"I've been doing that since I left college." And officially started working as a Syndicate spy. "There's something bigger going on."
The Runagates must have been involved in the wedding massacre and Victor's death and wanted the information buried along with Enzo. There was no other explanation for this ridiculous bounty.
But why risk it? If they were involved in the massacre, both the Syndicate and the Brotherhood would seek revenge. If anything happened to Enzo or Patrice, the two Clans would annihilate the Runagates.
"This doesn't make sense." And it pissed Enzo off to no end that it didn't. He had to understand it so he could plan a way out of it, preferably without bloodshed. But if any Runagate touched a hair on Patrice's head, he wasn't making any promises not to slash his way through them all.
"Sense or not, you're in danger. The Syndicate took a big blow during the wedding. We've lost members. The Committee's keeping an eye on us and those Brotherhood assholes. You need to disappear for a while. They'll forget about you in a few months and find some other Clan member to annoy."
"They always do, don't they?"
"You made a mistake tonight," Zio Rossi said gravely. "You were distracted."
Enzo clenched his jaw. "I didn't—"
The rest of Enzo's words died on his lips as Patrice walked into the room, a ray of sunshine on this suddenly gloomy day. She had a blushing pink satin robe on, her wet hair pushed back. She had Enzo's jacket in her hands.
"I brought this back—" Her smile instantly vanished when she saw Zio Rossi. "I didn't know we had company."
"Ah, the distraction." Zio Rossi sent an edged, unforgiving smile her way.
"Excuse me?" Patrice asked as imperiously as only she could.
"You must be the famed Viper." Zio Rossi inclined his head, but there was nothing pleasant or polite about it.
"And you must be the devil's right hand."
"I'd usually take it as a compliment, but my nephew Victor has just been buried. Do not speak ill of the dead."
"I wasn't. I was speaking ill of you."
Enzo stared at them with morbid curiosity. It was like watching a bear and a panther circle each other before one of them struck.
"You don't look like what I imagined the Lady of the Brotherhood would. You look more like her civilian cousin."
"Funny," Patrice said in that same cold voice. "You look like liver disease is going to get you in five years."
Sadly, Patrice was right. The years had not been kind to Zio Rossi. His wrinkles had deepened, his eyes had sunken in. He still had his menacing mane of white hair, pushed back against the nape of his neck, but it had lost its shine. His jaw was beginning to droop and the spots on his temples were multiplying by the day.
The man loved to smoke, drink, and cause trouble, and it showed.
Zio Rossi laughed darkly. "You're not still upset about what happened in Sankt Petersburg three years ago? After all, you still have all your limbs."
"Of course not. As long as you're not upset about that small explosion in Miami last year. You loved that yacht, didn't you?"
At this rate, they'd be trading jabs until tomorrow, and they were, sadly, out of time. Enzo hadn't seen anyone talk to Zio Rossi with as much courage as Patrice, who looked absolutely unbothered by the man's death glare. Fascinating.
"Glad you two are getting along so well, but we don't have time for you to kill each other. You can both scratch your eyes out at Christmas." Enzo turned to Patrice. "We have a problem."
She raised her brows.
"A Runagates-put-a-bounty-on-ours-heads-kind-of-a-problem," he said.
"Do they never learn?" Patrice rolled her eyes. "It's like a yearly tradition with them."
If they hadn't had company, Enzo would have marched right up to Patrice and kissed the breath out of her. Damn, he liked that fire in her. He just hoped it wouldn't burn him if he got too close.
"We need to vanish for a little while," Enzo said.
"Fine. It's not like we can kill them all until the year is up, thanks to that godawful TReaty." Patrice sighed. "We can go to my cabin."
"That little shack in the middle of freezing nowhere?" Zio Rossi scoffed. "They'll find you within a week."
Patrice gasped in offense. "Does everyone in the bloody Syndicate know where I live?"
Not exactly. Enzo had been the one to discover her home, which had been
a real pain. He'd bribed, scammed, and bargained for months on end to find out all the locations of the Brotherhood Elite's homes. It had been his job. It had also been excruciatingly hard.
But if Enzo could do it, then so could the Runagates, especially when millions of dollars were on the line.
"We'll go to my island."
Patrice's eyes went wide. "You have an island?"
Several, but this one was as secret as a location got. "It's small. Safe. Nobody outside the family knows about it and even fewer know its exact location."
Patrice opened her mouth, looking on the verge of arguing. Then she pursed her lips.
"How big is this bounty?" she hissed.
"About twenty million dollars. For us both."
Her eyes went wide. "Shit."
She took a deep breath and averted her gaze. Enzo could almost hear her mind racing, weighing the pros and cons.
"Okay," she finally said, not sounding happy about it.
Enzo stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. If his Zio and Charles could get lost right now, that would be great.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice almost above a whisper. "But I want you to know I'll protect you against anyone stupid enough to come after us."
Patrice's gaze snapped to his. Enzo's heart flipped. He saw the emotion in her eyes—hope, fighting not to be born.
She still didn't trust him completely. He didn't blame her.
"They are stupid," she mumbled. "But it's okay. I can work from anywhere. As long as I have my lab equipment with me, I can start analyzing that toxin and getting us closer to finding out who's behind the wedding massacre and all these lovely life changes none of us expected."
Or wanted. At least in the beginning.
The moment was shattered by Zio Rossi's howl of laughter.
"This is a family matter," he said, low and menacing. "More importantly, it's a Clan matter. Ours."
"The Brotherhood got dragged into your mess," Patrice said. "Now we intend to fix that. Plus, we have jurisdiction."
Zio Rossi's gaze darkened. "The wedding took place on a Syndicate-owned island."
"In the Mediterranean, which is under Brotherhood influence."
"We've owned that island for centuries. It's our motherland. You're not taking this tradition away from us, too."
"And you can keep on owning it, but my Clan isn't letting this go. We've lost Brothers and Sisters at that wedding. Raiden was almost shot. We want revenge as much as you."
Shadows crowded Zio Rossi's face. "You're telling me you want to find out who killed Victor before the Syndicate does?"
Enzo had had enough. Seeing them go at each other had been fun, but they were about three replies away from getting out the gun and poisoned darts. "That's enough."
Patrice sent one last murderous look Zio Rossi's way. "I'm telling you I will. For the good of the Brotherhood."
The anger vanished from Zio Rossi's gaze, replaced with...was that respect? For a member of the Brotherhood Elite?
Was he drunk?
No, he didn't look it. He stood up with perfect grace, heading straight for the door. He stopped next to Patrice, eyes scanning her face.
"You have spunk. I like that. But it's a shame, really." Zio Rossi sighed. "You're Brotherhood through and through, aren't you?"
Patrice stood up taller and prouder. "You've reached a respectable age. You know nobody survives in the Underworld without loyalty."
"Very true." Zio Rossi's eyes shined. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Viper."
"Likewise, Consigliere."
They exchanged jagged smiles.
"Have fun on the island. Who knows, maybe with so much time on your hands, you two will actually start planning your wedding and get the Underworld Committee off all our backs." Zio Rossi nodded at Enzo, with a grave look. "You be careful, Lorenzo. Especially around distractions. They only bring trouble."
Chapter Eleven
PATRICE
"Okay, how much did you pay the interior decorator for your house to look like this?" Patrice stared at the house transfixed, and she'd only seen the foyer.
The bright white walls, the soft wood accents, the insane cleanliness. Up ahead, she spied a living room with a massive couch, a fireplace in front of it, and—Patrice almost gasped—double doors leading out into the terracotta-tiled courtyard and the pool. Oh, she was definitely getting into that first chance she got.
A soft sea breeze blew through the windows, playing in the soft, gauzy curtains. It smelled of salt and cliffs and sand and some kind of sweet flower she couldn't name. Patrice wanted to bathe in this scent.
Maybe hiding out on Enzo's secret Mediterranean island home wasn't going to be that bad.
"My cousin Nat redecorated it two years ago, I just footed the insane bill," Enzo said as he deposited the rest of their luggage by the door.
"We'll be sure to thank her when we meet her, won't we?" Patrice said to Mr. Oscar, who was giving her some major stink-eye from inside his carry-on.
He swatted at his tracking collar again; it very much looked like he was giving Patrice the equivalent of a feline middle finger.
"Yeah, that's not going to fly. If you think I'm letting you roam around this island without a tracking device, you're insane."
She put down the carry-on and set him free. Mr. Oscar sauntered out and flicked its tail at her as he walked away. He was definitely pissed off.
"Don't worry. Unless he decides to take a swim in the sea, which I highly doubt he'd do, there's nothing here that can hurt Oscar. Unless he gets into Charles' lavender crop, then nobody can save him." Enzo nodded at the perfectly neat garden stretching just outside the window.
As soon as they'd gotten off the boat, Charles had dashed straight to his crops and was currently bent down, cooing at a raspberry bush.
"You come here that often that Charles can have a garden?"
"Not really, just for family get-togethers. Caputos love this place, especially since I buy all the booze." A corner of Enzo's mouth ticked up. "But Charles is a genius in the garden. He has watering systems and lines the ground with some kind of fabric so weeds don't grow. I don't get it, but he loves it. And the tomatoes in his greenhouse are fucking fantastic."
Patrice's mouth watered. Before meeting Enzo, it had been a long time since she'd had really great food. She was a master of one-pot meals at home and take-out in the city. She also couldn't really cook and had really awful taste in restaurants. This whole proper-meals-and-tasty-treats thing was a serious upgrade.
"Then let's hope Mr. Oscar doesn't find those before we get a chance to," she said.
"Relax. It's a small island. Plus, I've deactivated all the traps and security measures, he'll be fine."
Patrice started laughing, but she snapped her mouth shut as soon as she got a glimpse of Enzo's uncharacteristically stoic face. "You're serious. You have booby traps?"
"I'm cautious. The entire island can turn into a living hell with a press of a button."
"Isn't this place insanely secret?"
Patrice had checked—there were no records of this place in the whole Brotherhood database. Nothing. Not even an entry on where the island might be. Nobody knew it existed.
She'd had no luck on the way here, either.
All she knew was that they'd landed at an airport in Sicily, then took a smaller plane to the middle of fucking nowhere, then a helicopter to a small village on the shore, then finally a small yacht which Enzo himself had steered while Charles had gone green in the face and clutched his stomach.
She knew the general area. She kind of calculated the location, but she could be off by hundreds of miles.
Huh. She still didn't trust Enzo all that much, did she? Great kisser. Great charmer. Insanely smart—maybe too smart for his own good.
"Yes, but every location can be discovered. And I like to have precautions in case I might wake up with some unexpected guests trying to cut me open," Enzo said.
Since that Rossi's visit, Enzo h
ad gotten intense. All clenched jaw, jagged lines, and those cheekbones of his could cut—if his unflinching gaze didn't spear you first.
"Come on, Runagates don't have the resources and manpower to even begin to find this place."
"I know," he said. "It's not them I'm worried about."
The words lingered in the silence that followed.
"You mean Brotherhood?" Patrice deadpanned.
Enzo nodded curtly.
Patrice rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake."
"I risk my life every day. I like to know that when I'm home, I don't have to always be on guard." He jutted out his chin at her. "I bet you have a security system at your cabin against us Syndicate."
Patrice folded her hands in front of her chest. "Just a little toxin in the ventilation system."
"There you go."
"That's different."
Enzo looked at her expectantly.
Patrice bit her lower lip. "Don't take this the wrong way…"
"I probably will." A corner of his lips ticked up. "But go on."
"Well...nobody in the Brotherhood has actually put a target on Enzo Caputo. Ever."
For Patrice's Clan, efficiency was key. Sure, they kept an eye on Enzo—as much as they could, but he'd always been very slippery—because he was First Family and the fact that he was so feared in the Underworld had raised some serious questions which they'd never been able to answer, but he'd never caused any trouble for the Brotherhood. Why put a hit on him?
"Because my cover works," he said, pride in his voice. "But the Brotherhood has been searching for the Phantom for years."
That was an understatement. The Phantom had been at the top of the Brotherhood's list since rumors about his existence had started. They'd had meetings about him. They'd set a bounty, too. They'd once bribed an entire foreign government for any scrap of information on him.
Patrice's Clan would move heaven and earth to get their hands on him.
"You're right," she muttered, guilt nipping at her mind.
She'd found the Phantom. She hadn't told a single soul in her Clan about him. It felt like she was betraying her Brothers and Sisters—which she was.
What the hell was wrong with her?
