Giovanni chuckled, the sound saturated in warning. “Says a small man surrounded by men wielding guns.”
Bishop laughed. “I missed this. We had such good times, didn’t we?” He exhaled as if remembering fonder times. “But I just don’t have time for our usual witty banter. I need both you gentlemen to follow me, if you will. We have matters that require our attention. The faster we continue, the faster these people can get medical attention.”
“We can’t let them leave,” Cora hissed. “They won’t come back.”
“Shhh,” Elise whispered into her temple. “They’re not leaving the grounds.”
The absolute confidence in her mother’s voice soothed some of the turmoil writhing inside Cora’s chest. But it flared up the moment movement announced the departure of the group. It started sparsely, one, then two feet, followed by a third, then a full scuffle of half a dozen men leaving the way they’d come.
Elise kept Cora restrained until cries and chatter started from the party goers. That seemed to be cue that the threat had passed.
“Come with me.”
Elise didn’t wait when scrambling out from beneath the table. Cora had a harder time fighting with her skirt, but she followed.
The scene was something out of a war movie. Blood and bodies lay across the marble floors. People huddled over them, applying pressure and shouting for kits.
Not one person asked for 9-1-1 assistance.
No ambulances were called.
Wounds were tended to right there on the ballroom floor by expert hands.
“Jennifer, grab sheets from the closets upstairs. Sonny, David, get in the basement, bring up all the kits. Frank, you and Erin start patch ups. Hannah, you’re in charge, get things cleared up.” Elise never slowed as she barked out orders, giving people jobs and maintaining order. She barely even glanced to make sure they were being followed as she sprinted to the door. “Deidra! Tomas! Get outside and circle the property, make sure we don’t have stragglers. Guns are in the pantry.”
“Where are we going?” Cora panted, struggling to keep up. “They’re getting away.”
“No, they won’t.”
They pushed into her parent’s room.
Without missing strides, Elise charged to the white armoire Cora had always been told to stay away from, and threw open its doors. Instead of clothes, a small armory came into view, rows upon rows of every kind artillery. Everything from high powered machine guns to tiny purse pistols.
Elise unhitched a sniper rifle from its hook and shoved it into Cora’s hand.
“What...?”
“You know what,” Elise cut in, gaze burning. “This is for your father, and your husband. They need you to put aside your aversions and accept what you are. This is moment is the reason your dad and uncle spent all those hours training you. It’s time to put that training to the test.”
She didn’t ask a damn thing else as she loaded the chamber and stalked to the veranda overlooking the gardens. In three strides, she forced out the legs and splayed herself out across the biting stone. Years of persistent training whispered through her as she caught the first man in the X of her crosshairs. She was partially aware of her mother taking the space next to her, aligning her own gun through the cuts in the stone barricade.
“Don’t miss, baby,” she whispered.
She wouldn’t.
Life of normalcy be damned. She wasn’t going to allow anyone to take James or her father from her, not without taking down as many of the sons of bitches as she could first.
She drew in a slow breath, counted her heartbeat, and pulled the trigger.
.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The night was too cold for a walk through the frozen grounds. November hadn’t graced them with snow yet, but his dress shoes were not made to properly shelter James’s feet from the fine layer of frost crunching beneath its soles. Part of him wondered who came up with the idea of making tuxedos so uselessly thin in fabric. Maybe they expected everyone to be dancing and having too much fun to be freezing their balls off. No one would suspect a kidnapping or a hike through miles of frozen tundra.
“Just how big is this garden?” he muttered to the man trudging along next to him.
“Are you really anxious to get to the end?” De Marco mumbled.
“Depends if there’s somewhere warm on the other side.”
De Marco shot him a dry glower.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Bishop called from ahead. “We’re nearly there.”
“What exactly is the plan, Bishop?” James glared into the other man’s back. “If you wanted to kill us, you could have already.”
“I was going to,” the man admitted. “That had been the plan, but you see, I promised you both to the person who made all this possible and I am nothing if not a man of my word.”
“Your mole,” James hedged. “And who is this mystery man? Anyone I know?”
Bishop chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him soon enough.”
“And what’s in this for you, Lionel?” De Marco chimed in. “What is your mole promising you in return for my capture? Your old position? More money? An island? You should have just come to me. I could have doubled that offer.”
“That seems to be your solution to everything, Gio. More money. But you took something from me I can’t get back.”
“Your dignity?” De Marco challenged. “I wasn’t aware you had any.”
James hissed through his teeth. “Don’t antagonize the psychopath with the guns!”
Bishop stopped and whirled to face them, his cheeks scarlet from the cold and anger. “I am not a psychopath, Mr. Crow. I’m a business man. Giovanni and I had a business arrangement that he betrayed. I don’t like being betrayed.”
“Oh for Christ sakes,” De Marco grumbled. “That was over a decade ago. How long can a single man hold a grudge?”
“That’s a good question.” Ice blue eyes flicked to James. “Would you care to answer, Captain? Between the three of us, you’ve waited for this moment the longest.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Did he kidnap, rape, and murder your sister, too? I didn’t realize we had so much in common. Let me go and we can start a fan club.”
Bishop laughed. The stiff blades of grass crunched beneath his boots as he claimed a step forward.
James saw the fist, but made no effort to stop it when it collided with the side of his jaw. The cold numbed most of the blow, but he tasted blood.
“Always such a smart ass.”
He spat out the blood in his mouth and straightened. “Why is everyone hitting me tonight? I’m beginning to take it personally.”
Bishop bared his teeth, but turned his attention to De Marco. “I lost my wife because of you, and my daughter. You didn’t just ruin my career, you took everything.”
“You got greedy,” De Marco bit out. “You got in over your head and you got sloppy. You became a liability. You left me no choice but to cut you out.”
“You didn’t even give me a chance,” Bishop cried. “You just left me there holding the bags and no way to explain what happened.”
“You mean with no way for you to sell me out,” said De Marco. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew the minute you were dropped into the pot, you’d sing.”
“You framed me.”
“I made you,” De Marco growled. “I created you. Did you honestly think I couldn’t break you just as easily? I lost a lot of good men during that shipment raid. Men you got killed because of your own selfish agenda. What did you expect?”
“Loyalty!” Bishop snarled. “I slaved for you for years, bringing you the biggest shipments, making way for your products to cross whole countries, bending backwards to ensure your name was always in the clear with all agencies. I did that. I protected you. But when I needed you, you left me to rot.”
De Marco glanced at the men surrounding them, practically bleeding into the dark. “Looks to me like you’re doing just fine.”
B
ishop scoffed. “After getting framed for being a traitor, after disgracing my family and losing everything, what was there left but the only thing I knew how to do? I built my own retrieval company—”
“You mean a mercenary company,” De Marco corrected. “Is that why you’re calling yourself Bishop? Why not King?”
There was no missing the seductive sway of arrogance in Bishop’s cool gaze.
“Because even the king listens to the bishop.”
De Marco burst out laughing.
As decisions went, it probably wasn’t the wisest, James mused, wisely smothering his own snort behind the hand he rubbed over his jaw.
“Oh, Lionel.” De Marco straightened. “Your ego always was too big for your head. But please,” he sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “Continue. You built this ... team.”
If the sharp edges of Bishop’s jaw could kill, they would all be dead. It jutted out from beneath his skin, taut razor blades of his barely restrained urges to simply kill them both.
“These men are like me, innocent and trying to make a living after the country that swore to protect them, betrayed them. You should see my contact list, Giovanni. I have friends in places that would amaze you.”
De Marco never batted an eye. “You were never betrayed, Lionel. If you’d stuck to the plan, you would never have gotten caught. You fucked yourself. And these thugs you call innocent men, do they know you’d sell your own mother for a burrito?”
The gun glinted in the night, a metal threat inches from De Marco’s forehead.
“I think I’m done talking. I think I want to kill you myself, which is a shame, because if you knew who sold you out...” He laughed joyously. “Let’s just say there is no such thing as loyalty amongst thieves.”
“Hey, look, let’s just calm down.” James took a step forward. “Bishop, I have intel on a shipment that I think—”
The gun swung like the head on a radiator and pinned James.
“Are you honestly defending him right now, Crow? This man who brutalized your baby sister, who killed your father, who murdered your mother, this man? You want me to spare him?”
James shook his head. “I have no love for the guy, but—”
“But your wife loves her daddy, right? Need to stay in good graces with her. Wives are bitches when they get pissed off.”
“This isn’t about Cora,” James lied. “This is about planning and order. You have a plan, right? Well, nothing ever goes right when you deter from that plan, so you need to maintain order.”
He had no idea what he was talking about, but he figured if he stalled long enough, someone in that damn house might think of something.
“You’re rationalizing with the wrong man, Crow,” De Marco muttered. “Deterring from the plan is exactly the reason he’s in this mess.”
The gun returned to De Marco.
“The kid’s right,” Bishop decided, lowering the weapon. “It’s all about the plan.”
A sharp pop echoed through the night. Something whistled. James had just enough sense to grab De Marco and shove him to the ground when one of Bishop’s men’s head exploded a few feet away.
Another followed quickly after.
More brain matter sprayed into the frigid air, twining with steam from hot blood hitting the ground. Guns were lifted, but no one knew where to aim, or where the bullets were coming from. And there was nowhere to seek cover.
Sloppy, James thought.
“There’s my girl,” De Marco muttered.
In seconds, every last member of Bishop’s crew lay in riddled chunks across the lawn. The only one remaining was Bishop himself, standing stunned and horrified amongst the slaughter.
James scrambled to a nearby AK47 and hoisted it up. He spun with it already leveled with Bishop’s head.
“Drop it!” he snapped, motioning to the gun.
Bishop hesitated, a flicker before he let the steel hit the ground at his feet.
“Should have stuck to the plan,” James panted. “Come on. Let’s take this somewhere warmer.”
“Just so there’s no confusion,” De Marco rose and dusted grass and frost from his trousers. “That was my daughter and wife who took your men down and probably have you in their crosshairs right now. If I were you, I wouldn’t make any stupid decisions. Cora’s an amazing shot. It’s almost a talent of hers. I should know, I taught her.”
They marched Bishop back across the frozen fields towards the tempting glow of the manor. James kept a firm grip on the trigger the whole way up the backstairs to the terrace. But the moment they stepped over the broken frame, De Marco broke away and hurried to check on his family, leaving James lead Bishop to a chair and force him into it.
“What the hell happened?” Nicholas sprinted over to him. “I went to make the call and came back to ... this!”
“Long story.” James shoved the AK47 into his hands. “Keep him there. I need to check on—”
There was no need to go anywhere when the woman in question stalked into the room, a vision with her hair down around her shoulders, a gun at her side, and murder in her eyes. The slit in her dress flapped wide around toned legs with every dominating stride as she closed the distance with a single-minded focus.
She stopped when she was right in front of Bishop.
“Bishop?”
He squinted up at her. “Ms. Harris, what a pleasure—”
Without batting an eye, she blew out his kneecap. The acoustics in the ballroom picked up the bang with a severity that made everyone jump. But it was nothing compared to Bishop’s howl. It pierced all other sounds, a shriek more animal than man.
“That’s for having me kidnapped.” She shot out his other kneecap. Bishop wailed, the pure agony sent chills down James’s spine. “That’s for shooting my family.” The gun swung to the middle of his legs. “I’m tempted to go for thirds for ruining my dress!”
James quickly grabbed her before she could follow through.
“Easy, sweetheart.” He kissed her temple. “Okay?”
She tore out of his arms and rounded on Bishop, gun waving. “And it’s Crow, you son of a bitch!”
He caught her a second time and crushed her into his chest. “You got him, baby. You got him. Now, stop moving so I can make sure you’re okay.”
She slumped against him, all the fight leaving her with a sigh. The gun clattered to the floor at her feet, leaving her hands free to lift and close around his middle.
“That was some damn nice shooting,” he murmured into the top of her head. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Eighteen years of training,” she breathed into his collarbone. “And I wasn’t going to let them take you.”
“Lionel.” Elise joined the group with De Marco and Deidra on either side of her. “I see you’ve met our daughter.”
Bishop wheezed through the pain of having both knees shattered. Blood spewed from between trembling fingers. He needed a doctor and quickly if he was to be saved from bleeding out.
“It’s unfortunate we met again under these circumstances,” Elise continued. “I was quite fond of you once, so this is a great disappointment.” She stepped around the puddle of blood to where Cora had dropped the gun and lifted it. She checked the magazine as effortlessly and fluidly as she would have her nails. “I have asked my husband for the honors. I hope you don’t mind. He refused at first, but I promised him something even better later. Plus, he’s forever indulging me. It’s what a good husband does to maintain balance and peace in a relationship.”
“Eat shit, you stuck up—”
The crack of Nicholas’s fist slamming into the man’s snarling, drooling mouth silenced whatever was to follow.
“My apologies,” he said to Elise. “Bad mouthing a lady’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine.”
“A nice right hook and manners.” Deidra smirked. “Careful, cowboy. I might get you a full hour.”
Dark patches appeared high on the Romanian’s cheeks, accenting the grin he was failing to
conceal. His massive weight shifted from foot to foot with the refolding of his arms.
Cora leaned into James, her voice low. “What did I miss?”
James only shook his head, not entirely sure he wanted a deeper analysis of whatever was going on between those two.
“Lionel.” Elise turned everyone’s attention back to the tied man half slumped in the chair. She smiled kindly at him. “You’ve caused a lot of damaged to my family, Lionel. You took my daughter. You ruined her evening. You took my husband. My son in law. You shot my family. You have made such a mess.” She waved at the blood staining her floors. “That is just...” She broke off with an exasperated huff. “It’s really unacceptable.” She aimed at his torso. “I’ve counted seven things that really upset me. I think seven bullets should appease my grievances.”
James lay on Cora’s bed, arms folded beneath his head as he watched the glow from the lamp glitter off the stuccoes popcorning the ceiling. The dull fingers of a migraine pressed against the nerve endings of his brain, making him acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d been the victim of one. But being held hostage and nearly killed would have probably stressed a lot of people out.
Around him, the walls breathed with the company the manor housed. Elise had insisted upon it. All the injured people from the party were patched up — those who could be — or put aside for a proper burial. The whole matter had been very methodical and precise, as if it were the sort of thing she handled daily. Arrangements were made for transportation back to hotel rooms or the airports. Windows were replaced despite the late hour, floors were cleaned, Bishop and his men were disposed of.
It was as if none of it had ever happened.
All James wanted was sleep. Exhaustion had plagued him for hours, but he’d pushed on, determined not to show weakness. Every part of him missed his ship, missed the gentle sway of the ocean, and the metallic tang of his room. He hadn’t set foot on his baby in a month, the longest in history and the absence was beginning to crush his soul.
But there were still matters on land that required his attention, matters that he’d been avoiding, partially hoping he would never have to face.
Blood Script Page 39
