Blood & Roses (Vigilante Crime Series)

by Kristi Belcamino

  As she lay there, she realized her numbness was gone.

  A great, gaping pain made her stomach clench. She balled her hands into fists. Tears streamed down her face, wetting her pillows.

  Timothy was gone. Dead and buried in the ground. Like her mother. She would never see his sweet face again.

  Curling onto her side, she clutched her stomach and sobbed and choked and gasped for breath.

  She had no idea how long she was in such a state. Finally, exhausted and out of tears, she kicked back her covers. She swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat up. She felt dizzy for a few seconds, so she sat there getting her bearings. She had no idea if it was the middle of night or noon.

  Taking lumbering steps, she walked to the window and pulled back the blackout curtains. She was greeted with the view of the Gothic Cathedral. It was resplendent as always—it’s spires lit golden by the sun.

  Once, the view would have filled her heart with joy. Once upon a time, she would have taken a picture to send to Timothy. She knew he loved that particular golden color.

  Now, she looked at the church and the clear sky behind it blandly.

  It did nothing for her.

  Without Timothy to share it with, it wasn’t even worth looking at.

  23

  It took two days of lying in bed for Rose to figure out what she had to do.

  At first, she sank into a deep depression. She lost the desire to do anything, even live. But the longer she lay in bed, the more her anger and thirst for revenge grew until she realized that the only thing left to live for was avenging Timothy.

  Once she came to this conclusion, she spent another day in bed, plotting. She would have to get everyone to leave her alone if she was going to accomplish what she had in mind. Right now, Gia and Eva were too worried about her to leave. She had to convince them that she was fine.

  It would take some damn good acting.

  But she could pull it off.

  First, she needed to shower.

  She was still wearing the black dress from the funeral and smelled so bad that she gagged when she caught a whiff. In the bathroom, she stripped down and stuffed the dress in the tiny trashcan before getting in the shower.

  After standing under the hot water for nearly an hour, she felt cleansed in more ways than one. With her hair and body freshly washed, Rose pulled on some soft sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt and opened the door for the first time in three days.

  When Rose emerged from the bedroom, she found Eva, Gia, and Shaniqua sitting on the apartment’s balcony. All held glasses of tequila. A small feast of cheeses, salamis, and olives was set out before them.

  Rose walked over, picked up the bottle of tequila, and poured herself a glass before joining them.

  After she downed the glass, she set it down on the table outside, and it made a loud, jarring sound, making her cringe.

  “I appreciate you being here,” Rose said without looking at anyone in particular, “But I think I really need to be alone.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Gia said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Shaniqua can stay. But you guys should get back to your lives. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past few days, and I’m ready to get back to my life. It’s time you get back to yours.”

  “My life is with you, Rose,” Gia said.

  Rose turned to meet Gia’s eyes. “You know what I mean,” Rose said. “Back to my dad and all that.”

  Finally, after a few seconds, Gia nodded. “I’m okay with that if Shaniqua is able to stay for a few more days. I wish Django was still alive. He wouldn’t let anyone get within twenty feet of you girls.”

  “Well, he’s not is he?” Rose snapped and then immediately regretted it.

  Shaniqua and Gia exchanged a look.

  “I don’t have to be back in Paris until Monday,” Shaniqua said and turned to Gia. “I’ll leave three tickets for you at will call to see my show.”

  Gia nodded.

  Eva stood. “I was planning on leaving this afternoon anyway, Rose, but you know I will drop anything if you need me.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said in a soft voice. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  Eva and Gia walked out.

  As soon as the door closed, Shaniqua turned to Rose. “I hate lying to them.”

  “I lied enough to your parents when we were growing up—told them you were sleeping at my house when you were with Christoph.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “The hell it isn’t.”

  Shaniqua looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “I’ll do anything you need, Rose, but just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  Rose didn’t answer. Instead, she threw her arms above her head and stretched and yawned loudly. She rolled her head, stretching her neck.

  “God, what if I run into Gia or Dante or Wayne in Paris? They’ll know I’m lying?”

  “I’ll handle it,” Rose said, reaching for her keys. “I’ll walk you to the train station.”

  “And then what?” Shaniqua said, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

  Rose gave a small, tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Time to go find a bitch and make her pay.”

  After saying goodbye to her friend at the train station, Rose headed to a narrow alley and into a small shop that sold drug paraphernalia and incense and tarot cards. The guy behind the counter was a skinny young man with long, blond dreads and a soul patch.

  Rose strode past him to a door leading to the back room. He looked up from the graphic novel on the counter. His eyes flicked over her, and then he resumed reading.

  The door handle turned under her hand, and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

  She’d only been here once before with Timothy and Paolo when they had bought some throwing stars for a friend. On that day, Timothy had led the way. He’d opened the door without knocking, and once he was inside the back hall, he stood in front of a closed door and looked up at a camera pointing down at him.

  Now, Rose did the same.

  The red light on the camera blinked and then she heard the door lock click. Rose let herself inside.

  A man sat behind a large desk. He was heavyset, middle-aged with gray hair, and a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

  He set the cigar down.

  “You’re the kid’s friend.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I know.” The man bowed his head.

  “I’m going to kill the person who killed him.” She stood tall as she said it, throwing her shoulders back.

  “I see that,” he said and exhaled, also sitting up straighter. “I’m not sure I can help you.”

  Rose frowned. “Why not?”

  “You just walked in and told me you are going to murder someone, and I’m assuming you want the weapon to do so? That seems a little dangerous for me. How do I know that you won’t confess where you got the weapon when you get caught?”

  “Who says I’m going to get caught?” Rose said in an eerily calm voice, lifting one eyebrow.

  The man gave a small chuckle. “Touché.”

  “I don’t need a gun,” Rose said, drawing the gun out of the holster at her back. “I need ammo. I’m almost out.”

  The man eyed the gun. “I can help.”

  Rose smiled. “I thought so.”

  Later, back at her apartment, Rose paced.

  She had to be patient, but it was nearly impossible.

  At first, she had felt utterly frantic, wondering how she would find Lane.

  But the night before, she’d woken from a dead sleep, sweating.

  Of course.

  Killing Timothy wasn’t about him. Not really. It was a way to get to Rose. It was about punishing her. Why didn’t matter. Not in this case.

  While most people would think that murdering someone close to Rose was enough, Rose knew differently.

  Lane wasn’t done with Rose yet.

  Most peo
ple would think that a killer would be far away, hiding so they didn’t get caught. Rose knew differently.

  Rose just had to be patient.

  At first Rose had thought she would have to hunt Lane down.

  But in the dark of night, she’d realized: Lane would come to her.

  It was a certainty.

  It was only a matter of time.

  By sending everyone else at the apartment away, Rose had basically set out the welcome mat.

  Come and get me.

  24

  Two days passed. Rose spent every waking hour training. She did pushups, pullups, sit-ups, and ran on the beach for ten miles every morning before the sun rose. Then she went to a martial arts studio and practiced her gladiatura moderna using the sword and dagger she brought from home. The sensei was used to Gia and Rose using the studio for this ancient Italian martial arts practice even if he didn’t do it himself. Rose also went to the gun range and practiced. Her daily regiment was strict and brutal, and she slept well each night.

  The first day she’d texted Gia. “I’m going to be off the grid until next week. I have some thinking to do.”

  “That’s not what you promised when we left? Where’s Shaniqua?”

  “I’m just going to do some meditation and not be online,” she wrote, lying. “It’s too hard to see all the condolence messages from everyone. You can call me, but I’m trying to stay away from my phone. It’s hard. I guess I’ve become a little addicted over the years.”

  She wrote that on purpose. Nico and Gia had tried to get her to reduce her phone usage for years. It was a cheap shot, but it worked.

  “Maybe that’s a good idea. Are you still going to dinner with Nico?”

  “Not sure. I don’t want him to see me like this. It will be too hard to explain. I’ll be better and ready to see him next week.”

  “OK,” Gia wrote. “I trust you know what’s best. You’re an adult now. See you next week.”

  Even so, Gia texted twice a day. “Just checking in. If you see this, let me know you’re okay.”

  Rose ignored the texts.

  On the fourth day, Eva called.

  Rose thought about ignoring the call, but Eva rarely called.

  And Rose knew her well enough to know that Eva could send the fucking army to town if Rose tried to hide from her.

  “Hey,” she said casually.

  “Gia said she can’t get ahold of you,” Eva said.

  “I told her I was going off the grid. The social media. The condolence stuff. It’s too much.”

  “Rose.”

  Something in Eva’s tone told Rose that she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “I don’t want her involved,” Rose finally said, giving up the ruse.

  “I told you I’ll handle it,” Eva said, knowing instantly what Rose was referring to.

  “I owe this to Timothy.”

  “You turned away from that life a long time ago, Rose. Let me handle it.”

  “No.” Rose’s voice was calm and sure. “I’m going to hunt her down, and I’m going to kill her.”

  Eva was quiet.

  “I don’t want Gia to know. Please don’t tell her,” Rose said.

  “You have a choice now, Rose,” Eva said. “This is one of those moments, one of those forks in the road we’ve talked about…. You are making decisions during a moment of grief that will direct the course of the rest of your life. Be extremely certain about what you are doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Rose said.

  Eva didn’t answer.

  Her silence triggered Rose. Eva’s apparent disapproval was more than she could handle right then. The blood in Rose’s veins boiled.

  “What?” Rose said angrily. “You have nothing to say? You’re not going to talk me out of it? You’re not going to remind me that I said I didn’t want to be like you?”

  It stung, but Rose had once screamed this at Eva.

  It happened after they returned from Bangkok and escaping the Sultan’s palace.

  Rose had been tormented with nightmares constantly about the Sultan hunting her down and killing her in a horrific ceremonial sacrifice.

  That’s when Rose said she was leaving. She was going to live in Barcelona with Nico and Gia and live a “normal life.”

  Eva nodded. “Good. But as much as you want a normal life, Rose, you are not going to be normal. You’ve seen and done things that have changed you. I want you to consider talking to a therapist about this once you are settled in Spain.”

  For some reason being told that she couldn’t be normal—even if it was true—set Rose off in a fury.

  “I hate you,” Rose shouted. “You are a monster. You are evil. You kill people. You are a murderer! I will never ever be like you. I’d rather die.”

  She’d run out of the room before Eva and Francesca could see the tears streaming down her face. She’d crept back toward the door to apologize and overheard the two women talking.

  “What did I do wrong?” Eva said. “I just want her to be prepared. I know how hard it can be to try to go live a normal life after what she’s been through. I know this firsthand.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Francesca said. “It needed to be said. It is natural for girls her age to reject everything that a mother figure has to offer. It is part of a young woman’s journey to figure out who she is on her own, to carve out her own identity. She doesn’t mean it. It is how she is separating herself from who you are.”

  “Good,” Eva said. “I want her to be her own woman. And if she can avoid what I’ve gone through, I’ll be even happier.”

  Now, that conversation came back to Rose. She closed her eyes, waiting.

  “Rose?” Eva said in a soft voice. “Do you remember when I told you about Giacomo? That’s when it all began.”

  Of course she did.

  “After that, for me, even though I had to hide in Los Angeles and try to live a normal life, that was the turning point. I knew that I was a killer and could never go back to thinking otherwise. I tried to forget that life, but it wouldn’t forget me. When they came back and took my family away, I knew that I couldn’t escape my destiny.”

  “Is being a killer my destiny?” Rose said, tears dripping down her face. “Will it follow me and hunt me until I accept it?”

  “You are the only one who can answer that question.”

  Rose thought about it for a few seconds and then wiped her tears.

  “Thank you for offering to take care of Lane for me, but this is something I need to do for myself.”

  Eva gave a sharp intake of breath.

  “Can you at least wait until Gia returns from Italy so you have backup if you need it?”

  Gia was going to Italy? She was supposed to be in Paris. If that wasn’t suspicious as fuck, what was? Gia had said nothing about going out of town. Were Eva and Gia planning on taking out Lane behind Rose’s back.

  “Rose?” Eva repeated. “Will you at least wait?”

  “Yes,” Rose lied.

  25

  Lane woke one morning and felt differently.

  While her head was still foggy and her thoughts were still jumbled, she felt something else that surprised her. A strange calmness and clarity.

  Although she’d spent the past few months living in sheer terror of the Sultan, she suddenly realized that he’d only made her do what she already wanted to do deep inside.

  If only she’d realized that before he’d killed her mother. She’d thought he couldn’t touch her but then he’d showed her otherwise. He’d taken away the one person she loved. The only person she would ever love. And the truth was it wasn’t even really his fault. As he had pointed out so many times, it was Rose’s fault.

  In fact, everything was Rose’s fault.

  Her life had been great until Rose appeared at the villa.

  She hated Rose.

  From the first minute, she’d laid eyes on the girl, she’d hated her with a deep-seated rage that surprised her.

 
; It had taken her aback. At first, she had chalked it up to jealousy.

  Before Rose arrived, Lane had been Eva’s favorite.

  After a childhood in poverty in Rome, Lane had realized she could go one of two ways—become a thief or prostitute or beg the Queen of Spades to take her on as one of her highly trained and elite assassins.

  It had nearly been a coin toss.

  One night after Lane had been beaten nearly to death in an alley after one of the thugs she ran with accused her of holding out on her from a score, she bought a train ticket to Southern Italy.

  She showed up at the gate to Eva’s villa and asked to see the Queen of Spades.

  At first, she was told no.

  Lane wadded up her jacket and used it as a pillow, sleeping outside the gate for five nights.

  On the fifth night, a red-haired older woman opened the gate and brought her inside.

  The next morning, after she had been directed to shower and eat breakfast, she was brought before Eva.

  Lane remembered standing there in utter disbelief. Eva was an imposing figure.

  Long unruly dark hair, black onyx eyes, beautiful, but also deadly.

  Her reputation had preceded her. But in person she was even more of a powerful presence. She turned to Lane and asked why she wanted to be a soldier.

  “I have nothing else. It’s either kill for good or kill for bad.”

  Eva stared at her with those black onyx eyes for so long that Lane had to look away.

  Then the dark-haired woman turned to the red-haired older woman.

  “Show her to her room.”

  After that, Lane had spent every waking second training—her mind, body, and spirit—to become the best soldier that Eva had ever had.

  It didn’t take long until she was the best soldier.

  Eva brought her in to praise her a few months later.

  “I see I made the right decision,” she said and granted Lane a rare smile.

  At that moment, Lane would have died for Eva.