Blood & Roses (Vigilante Crime Series)

by Kristi Belcamino

  Eulalia had been one of the patron saints of Barcelona who was martyred during Roman times. When the soldiers made her stand naked in the square, snow had fallen out of clear blue skies to cover her up.

  But Rose kept that detail to herself. She simply told Timothy that she loved the gargoyles.

  Timothy spoke with his eyes still peering through the binoculars. “Did you know that ‘gargoyle’ stems from the French gargouille?” he asked.

  “No, and I don’t speak French,” she said.

  “It means throat,” he said, setting the binoculars down. “The gargoyles’ mouths and throats are spouts for the water on the roof to drain, and when the water comes out it makes a gurgling noise.”

  “What?” Rose said, wrinkling her nose. “Are you making that up?”

  Timothy burst into laughter. “No.”

  There was a knock at the door. It was Nico.

  Even though Rose was thirteen, which felt like an adult to her, Nico had a strict rule about not having the door shut when Timothy was over.

  She had told her father several times that it wasn’t like that. They were best friends and it was so old-fashioned for him to think that a boy and girl couldn’t just be friends.

  “Rose’s room has the best view of the cathedral,” Nico said.

  “It’s nice to look at, but I prefer La Sagrada Familia for sheer uniqueness,” Timothy said nonchalantly.

  Rose froze. “Um, Timothy is going to study architecture,” she said hurriedly.

  It wasn’t that he was being disrespectful to her dad, it was just, somehow, an insouciant comment.

  Rose watched as Nico took Timothy in, sweeping over his black wavy hair, the little bit of rash on his neckline from shaving, over his wrinkled button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. He must’ve liked what he saw because he gave a slow smile and said, “I agree. It is my favorite cathedral in Spain. However, it does not hold a candle to the one in my home country. In Taxco.”

  “The Santa Prisca Cathedral is a gem,” Timothy agreed, immediately impressing Nico by knowing its name. “It has many of the elements that I love about La Sagrada Familia, but when it comes to Mexican Cathedrals, I especially love the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel in San Miguel de Allende.”

  Nico beamed. “What? That is my town! That is where Rose and I lived!”

  Timothy lit up. “That is an amazing cathedral. I dream of seeing it in person one day.”

  Rose smiled as the two of them headed into the dining room. She would never tell her father that she’d prepped Timothy to say that. He’d been so nervous to meet her dad, she’d given him something to break the ice. And when he saw pictures of the cathedral, often called the Pink Wedding Cake Church, he did genuinely fall in love with it.

  Rose admired that Timothy held his own among the three most important and intimidating adults in her life.

  Rose didn’t know if Eva was there to meet Timothy or if it had been a coincidence.

  Dinner went well for the most part. Timothy held his own in conversation with the others, Rose thought. But it was still incredibly awkward.

  For some reason, Gia and Eva both got super excited when they saw the necklace Timothy was wearing. It was a gold horn and hand that he always had on. Rose had never paid much attention to it besides thinking it looked kind of cool.

  “You’re Italian?” Eva said with a knowing smile.

  “How’d you know?” Timothy had said, smiling back.

  “Your necklace.”

  “Aha,” he said. “Of course. Yes. My father and mother are a little old-fashioned. They believe in the malocchio and all that. Me and my brothers all got these when we turned twelve.”

  “Believing in the malocchio is not old-fashioned,” Gia said.

  “What is the malocchio, and what does the necklace have to do with it?” Rose asked.

  Eva explained that Il Malocchio was what Italians called the evil eye. It is usually when people are jealous and wish you bad luck. The hand and the horn—cornetti and cornetto—protect against evil wishes and evil in general, she said.

  “Cool,” Rose said and they all laughed.

  After dinner, Rose walked Timothy downstairs, and they stood in the street talking.

  “What did you think?” Rose said, cringing.

  “Nico is great. I could talk to him all day long.”

  Rose couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her face. “I think he likes you too,” she said.

  “You think?” Timothy said and made a funny face.

  Rose shrugged. “My father…it’s a long story, but he’s lived a crazy life. More unbelievable than I can even explain. Maybe someday he’ll tell you about it.”

  “You won’t tell me?” Timothy said.

  Rose shook her head. “It’s his story to tell.”

  “And Eva and Gia?” she said. “What do you think of them?”

  “They frighten me.”

  Rose burst into laughter. But Timothy nodded his head.

  “Like, they are beautiful and strong, but I get the feeling they would kill me without blinking if I ever got you in trouble or hurt you in any way.”

  When she didn’t respond, Timothy cleared his throat. “I mean you’re more likely to be the trouble maker than me. At least that’s what I told them.”

  They both burst into laughter, and the awkward moment was gone.

  “I can see where you get your strength from, Rose.”

  The comment felt like a barb. Rose whirled on him.

  “I’m nothing like them!” she said heatedly.

  “Whoa!” Timothy said and put out his palm while backing up slightly, but Rose didn’t even see him.

  “They are hard,” she said angrily. “I don’t ever want to be like that. Or like them. They have done things…unspeakable things…I’m not like them.”

  Then, it was as if she snapped back. She looked up and Timothy was standing there with an eyebrow raised. “Wow. I didn’t mean to piss you off, Rose. I thought I was complimenting you.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head.

  He moved over and put his arm around her. She shook it off.

  But he would not be rebuffed. He moved right in front of her until she calmed down enough to look up at him.

  “Rose, if you don’t want to be like that, you won’t be like that.”

  His words soothed her. She’d over-reacted. She exhaled and said, “I just want a simple life. I want to go to college and then have a career as a graphic designer and then get married and have kids one day.”

  Timothy listened with a serious look on his face and then said, “Hey, I haven’t known you that long, but I feel like I know you, if that makes sense?”

  It did. Rose nodded.

  “I’m certain that if you want that, you’ll have it.”

  Remembering this as the light faded on the cathedral, Rose knew that despite her best intentions, she was exactly like Eva and Gia.

  A killer.

  16

  It was so easy that she kicked herself for not realizing it beforehand.

  The password to all Timothy’s accounts—Rose.

  When she typed in her own name and gained access to all his social media accounts, tears streamed down her face.

  But she didn’t have time to cry.

  It didn’t take long for her to find what she was looking for.

  It was an avatar for a girl named Lana who had added Timothy to Snapchat the night of Rose’s birthday. Rose looked at their chat history.

  “Sorry to bother you. I’m a friend of Paolo’s in town for the soccer game. I’m in a scary situation with some guys and can’t reach him. Do you think you could just wait with me until my cab comes? I see on Snapmap you are close by me”

  “Of course,” Timothy had replied. His response had come moments after he’d left her apartment.

  Rose’s face grew ice cold.

  Lane. It had to be. Lana. Lane. It was too obvious.

  The avatar showed a bl
onde girl. But hair color could be easily changed. The store owner had said Timothy had been with a blonde woman.

  It had begun as an intense dislike of a fellow solider at Eva’s boot camp and turned into a dark, twisted rivalry.

  A woman with cropped brown hair and thick eyebrows was scowling at her. Her narrowed eyes roamed over Rose from head to toe. Rose stopped and frowned. She’d had bullies be cruel to her in San Diego, but she’d never had someone who was almost an adult look at her that way.

  Later, when they were in Eva’s office looking down on the soldiers who had resumed training, Rose asked Eva about the young woman.

  “That’s Elana. She goes by Lane. She’s seventeen. She is one of our newest recruits. She came down from Rome. She’s very good. I’m grooming her to be my top soldier, one who will train the others. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” Rose had said. “She just reminds me of someone.”

  Top soldier? Not for long.

  From that moment on, Lane seemed to have it out for Rose.

  Snide comments. Dirty looks. Cruel whispers.

  Up until yesterday, Rose ignored it all.

  But yesterday, Lane went too far.

  They were sparring. The girl in charge of the training, Sofia, had brought Rose up to demonstrate how size didn’t matter in combat. When Sofia asked for a volunteer, Lane didn’t wait for an invite. She just strode up to the front and immediately attacked.

  It had taken Rose off guard.

  Before she realized it, Rose was on the ground with the blade of a sword pressed against her throat. Lane was out of breath, crouched over her, looking at her with a mixture of triumph and hatred.

  Rose didn’t even think about what to do next. It came automatically. Her legs came up and under Lane’s arms. She thrust backward until Lane toppled. Rose straddled Lane and held a small dagger to her throat.

  Looking into Lane’s eyes she saw something that surprised her. Along with the hatred, which she’d expected to see, she also saw something else: fear.

  Rose’s held the dagger steady, but the rest of her was trembling. Her heart pounded in her throat. Her face felt like it was on fire. It took all of her self-control not to drag the blade across Lane’s pale skin.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Sofia was looking down on them.

  “Brava, Rose.”

  She locked eyes with Lane again, and what she saw there was troubling. She saw pure hatred. She’d seen Lane’s fear and Lane would probably never forget that.

  Lane had kidnapped Timothy.

  Lane had tricked him and kidnapped him, preying on his tendency to be a nice guy.

  Timothy had warned her never to use Snapmap because people could prey on her that same way. It’s exactly what Lane had done and then ambushed him with two thugs. After that? Rose wouldn’t allow her thoughts to go that far. But Rose still felt a small bloom of hope inside her chest. If it was really Lane that had grabbed Timothy, there might be a chance he was still alive and being used as bait.

  Rose pulled her long hair back in a ponytail and put on leggings and her running shoes.

  Time to go hunting in her dad’s old gun safe.

  It contained an arsenal—pistols, grenades, assault rifles, swords, knives, daggers, ammunition, and what she’d hoped to find there—the silencer for the gun Gia had given her and more ammo. There wasn’t much left, but she took it all. The gun safe was too large for the assisted living apartment, so Nico and Gia had let it remain in Nico’s old closet. They didn’t know that Rose had figured out the code long ago. Her birthdate. Like Timothy, her father was a sentimental man. At the last minute, she also grabbed a bandanna out of a drawer and a roll of rope out of a utility closet.

  Even though Gia had said the man who’d been released wouldn’t be going back to the apartment where she and Paolo had found the bloody sheet, that’s exactly where Rose was heading.

  She figured Gia had said that to prevent her from going there.

  If anything, Rose would knock on his neighbor’s doors to see if she could find out more about the man: where he worked, where he was from, whether he had family or friends in town. She wanted to know anything that might help her track him down.

  Because she was going to find him and kill him if he didn’t give her some answers—the biggest of which was where Timothy and Lane were.

  In her head, she reframed that. She would kill him even if he did answer.

  Either way, the man was dead for hurting Timothy.

  The reason didn’t matter anymore.

  Tucking her loaded gun with the silencer into the back waistband of her pants, Rose pulled on a lightweight but long jacket to hide it and left.

  It was easy for Rose to get into the apartment. There was a fire escape in the alley. She pulled herself up to the lowest rung and then made her way up to the fifth floor. From there, it was only a six-foot leap down to the man’s balcony on the fourth floor. She landed with a loud thud and froze, heart pounding, as she stared at the sliding glass door.

  The apartment remained dark, but he could be sleeping.

  After a few minutes with no movement or sound coming from inside, she walked over to the door. It slid open easily under her grip.

  With her back to the wall and her gun in her hand, she made her way inside the dark room. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she kept her ears alert for even the smallest sound.

  After a quick search confirmed the apartment was empty, Rose crouched by the front door and waited. She allowed herself to drift into a light sleep but woke, ready and alert, at any noise. The first few were false alarms: a neighbor and his date coming home and kissing loudly in the hall, an argument in the apartment next door, a car alarm going off down on the street…

  But then the click of the door she was leaning near, had her scrambling to her feet, gun in her hand.

  The door opened silently and slowly. She held her breath. A dark shadow appeared, a long silhouette created by the hall light. She knew his next move would be to reach for the light switch. She only needed him to take one step into the room.

  She raised her arm high.

  He took the step. She brought her arm down. As if sensing the movement of the air, the man turned to face her just as the butt of the gun came down on his head.

  He slumped in a pile at her feet. Hurriedly, she pulled him inside the apartment, shut the door, and threw the deadbolt.

  For a second, her heart pounded with a fear that she’d killed him. She needed him alive for questioning. Leaning down, she felt a pulse and then acted quickly, she hog tied him with the rope. Then she sat on the couch with the gun on the cushion beside her and waited.

  It was nearly dawn when the man finally stirred

  His groan woke her from a light sleep. She instinctively reached for the gun.

  His eyes flickered open and focused on her. He groaned again.

  “Where is my boyfriend?” She stood holding the gun. She pointed it at him and walked over until she stood above him.

  She squatted down and pressed the silencer into his nose, pushing it to one side.

  “Speak now.”

  “I don’t—”

  She cut off his words by sliding the gun down and sticking it into his mouth. Deep.

  “Don’t bother giving me the load of shit you gave the police. I’m here for one reason only: to make you tell me what happened to my boyfriend. If you don’t talk, I will torture you.”

  With that, she removed the gun from his mouth and stood.

  “Fuck you.” He spoke Spanish with a thick accent. Not Catalan, either.

  She couldn’t identify his accent. Russian maybe? He had light skin and thick dark eyebrows. His ethnicity was unidentifiable. He was not Spanish, though, not with that accent.

  But where he was from didn’t matter.

  “I have a feeling you’ll rethink that decision,” she said. She set the gun down on the coffee table.

  “I will shout and call my neighbors,” he said.

>   Leaning down, she gagged him with the bandanna. His eyes bulged.

  He watched as she strode over to the stereo and turned on the radio to a heavy metal station.

  Then his eyes grew even wider as he saw her reach for a fire poker leaning next to the fireplace in the corner of the living room.

  Before he could react, she was behind him and swung the poker. It met his hands and his private parts at the same time with a resounding smack and he grimaced in pain, his face turning bright red, as tears sprang from his eyes.

  “You ready to talk yet?” Rose said.

  He glared at her and slowly shook his head. Interesting. The motivation to not speak must be strong. Someone must have told him to keep his mouth shut. Someone capable of inflicting even more pain than he thought she could. His face was contorted in pain and sweat dripped off his brow even though it was cool inside the apartment.

  She put all of her back into another swing, and this time the man rolled over so his face was buried in the carpet.

  “Ready to talk yet?”

  He closed his eyes.

  She nudged him with a foot to roll him over. He looked at her and nodded frantically.

  “I think you made the right decision,” she said. She dropped the poker on the couch and pulled the gag down around his neck.

  “Let’s talk,” she said.

  17

  “A blonde woman,” he said, rubbing at his sore balls. “She paid me and my cousin to beat him.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Rose wound up to strike him again.

  “I swear,” he screamed.

  “How did you find him?”

  “She said he worked at Mangia.”

  “I saw you outside the restaurant the night before,” Rose said.

  “We followed you and waited outside your apartment until the kid left the next morning. We weren’t after you. In fact, she said not to let you see. To not hurt you. She only wanted the guy.”

  “The guy is my boyfriend,” Rose said, leaning down to shove the silencer deep into the man’s mouth again. Her arm trembled and it took all her willpower not to pull the trigger. He gagged and closed his eyes, and sweat poured down his face.