by Naomi West
The outer wall was higher here, and for some reason, Calzoni imagined that meant he didn’t need to have this side of the mansion as well-guarded. There were security lights, but I took those out easily as I made my way to a wide French door that led out to the massive infinity pool. Other than that, I was alone.
I had acquired many skills over the last ten years, since Matteo Moretti had taken me under his wing. “You should never be a one-ring circus, Lorenzo. Sure, you can shoot. I’ve taught you well. But there are many other skills that would be useful to you, and you shouldn’t ignore them. Train yourself, physically and mentally. Never stop learning. The best in the business are like this.”
With this in mind, I whipped out the small lock-picking kit that I always kept on hand. Most people would be shocked at how easy it is not only to make these tools, but to use them as well. I had the door opened in less than a minute, and I had yet to hear any of Calzoni’s goons coming to investigate.
I found myself in a hallway. To my right were several doors that could have had anything behind them, from mobsters to maids. To my left was a staircase, the treads carpeted in blue. The noise that drifted up them—music, laughter, and lewd remarks—let me know that this was my destination.
I had picked the night of the hit very carefully. It was Frankie’s birthday, and he was sure to have a party of some sort. The rumors about his little private club were rampant. He hired the best dancers and entertainers for his own enjoyment as well as that of his business partners, capos, and sometimes government officials. Why would he bother going anywhere else when the flesh had been fine-tuned to his own desires?
Though the lights were fully up on this floor of the mansion, the stairs descended into darkness. It was perfect. I crept down, keeping my pace steady and my weapon ready. The Calzoni men would be armed—we all were in this line of business—and I would only have so much time to get the job done. I was risking my life as I plummeted into enemy territory, but I knew it would be worth it in the end. Frankie would be out of the picture, and I would be able to focus on more important things.
The bass thundered in my ears and vibrated in my chest. The stairs weren’t lit, which worked to my advantage. I located Frankie, front and center in front of the stage. The DJ on the other side of the room should have been the first to see me, but he was focused on his mixing table, headphones on and head bobbing along to the beat. None of the other men arranged around the room were interested in seeing who had come to join them; they were too busy leering at the stripper. I only gave her cursory glance—I couldn’t help it—before I raised my gun. At least he would die happy, which was more than I would probably be able to say for myself.
My silencer didn’t douse the sound of the round completely, but it was enough with the music blaring. It punctured his chest, a bright red flower of blood blooming against the crisp whiteness of his shirt. He gaped at the hole for a moment, his hand gesturing weakly as he tried to figure out what had happened. The capos that surrounded Frankie were so focused on the dancer that they didn’t notice anything was happening until I had shot two more of them. They burst out of their chairs and off the sofas, screaming and pulling their weapons out of their holsters.
Adrenaline surged into my bloodstream. Sure, it had been fun to get into the house, but this was the main event. I counted off my shots as I fired them, watching one man who was running toward the stairs fall forward onto his face after a bullet went through his chest. Another had been quick with his pistol. He sent a round pinging off the stair railing before I nailed him in the forehead.
With one swift movement, I dropped the magazine and loaded another one as I came further down the stairs. It gave me a better vantage point on the scene, but it also made me more vulnerable. I didn’t care. I would get the job finished, and if I was killed in the process then so be it.
The DJ was more than just a hired man for the show. I had expected him to cower down behind his table and try to crawl away. Instead, he whipped a nine-millimeter out of his back pocket and levelled it at me. I dismissed him with a quick pull of the trigger. He managed to fire, but it went into the ceiling as he slumped backwards against the wall.
More men fell to the floor as I worked, killed with my swift efficiency. I would remember them later when I tried to sleep, their mouths gaping in shock as they realized they had finally reached the end of the careers with the mob. I would see the blood as it seeped from their wounds, puddling purple on the blue carpet. Deep down, I knew these weren’t the ones I should feel guilty about. These men had committed to a life of crime, serving a man who did whatever he could to make a dollar. Calzoni had razed apartment buildings to build a casino, the tenants turned out into the cold and too poor to rent anywhere else. He hadn’t done that alone. He hadn’t personally escorted those women and children out into the streets, yelling at them to hurry up or else. No, he had had help. Everyone here deserved to die.
When the floor was littered with men in suits, I stepped off the last stair and across the floor. The swiveling lights illuminated the grisly scene as the final song ended, leaving the room in silence. My first shot had been perfect. I wanted to disable him, but I needed the chance to let him know who had finally gotten the best of him. Frankie was still alive, the bullet in his chest causing him to wheeze horribly as he groped feebly for his gun.
“Don’t bother,” I said through my teeth. “You’ve lost, Frankie.”
The mob boss narrowed his eyes at me. “This was a mistake. I’m a powerful man, and I know who you are. You could have come to work for me instead, and I would have paid you far better than Moretti does. I could have made you into somebody.” Pink bubbles of blood erupted from the hole in his chest.
He couldn’t know how much his words affected me. It wasn’t the promise of money. I could still hear Matteo in the back of my head, standing behind me at his private gun range when I was only fourteen. “I’m going to make you into somebody,” he had promised. “You only need to be loyal to me and the rest of your life will be taken care of.” It had sounded so good at the time, but I had been too young to know any better.
“No, thanks,” I replied. “I’ll get all the payment I need when I get to see you finally die. You’ve caused too much trouble for the Morettis, and nobody gets away with that.” I put a final bullet in his head, watching with satisfaction as he took his last breath. I twisted his signet ring off his still-warm finger and slipped it into my pocket. I would need it later to prove what I had done.
I was just about to turn back for the stairs when I heard a sound behind me. Whirling around with my gun at the ready, I saw the one person I had forgotten about up until this point. The stripper huddled at the back of the stage, her arms over her head. I stepped up onto the platform.
These were the ones I regretted. I had no qualms about taking out those who had hurt others—those who took the risk of a mafia life and knew what the consequences were. But it was inevitable that there were others, those who had been hired for what they thought was a normal job only to find they’d gotten involved in something much bigger than a paycheck. But the woman couldn’t live. She’d seen what I’d done and she’d seen my face. I advanced across the shiny floor. Was the world really going to miss a stripper?
She picked her head up and looked straight at me. Her tears had smudged her makeup, making colored trails down her cheeks. Her chest, decorated only in little heart-shaped pasties, heaved with her sobs. The woman was attractive; there was no doubt about that. Maybe the world would miss her a little bit, with those long legs and that great rack. But what held my attention most of all were those blue eyes.
They picked up the blue of the room around us, shining through her tears as a deep sapphire. Her dark lashes and brows framed them perfectly, and it was as though her eyes were communicating with me even though she said nothing. I didn’t know what the message was, but it suddenly made me uncomfortable in my own skin.
“Please,” she finally whispered.
&nb
sp; “Sorry. Business is business.” I adjusted my grip on the pistol. There was one round left. I had plenty more in the next magazine, but I only needed one. My finger rubbed against the trigger. It was a light one and it hardly took any effort to fire the weapon, yet somehow I couldn’t seem to do it. I lived through the scene in my mind—the bullet flying into her head and sending her into a semi-naked heap on the floor—but I couldn’t make it happen.
She blinked, flinching against the bullet she thought was coming, but it did nothing to lessen the effect of those incredible eyes.
“You’ve seen too much,” I growled, trying to convince myself as well as her. “I have to do this.” I once again situated the gun within my palm, irritated at myself. I had practically molded my flesh to the feel of this weapon. It was an extension of me—part of me that I couldn’t live without even if I tried. I was a hitman. A killer. My money and Matteo’s favor was earned with the blood I shed. This shouldn’t have been so hard.
“Please, please don’t,” she whispered. Those full lips formed the words that wrapped around my gun and made it fall down to my side.
“Come with me,” I commanded, watching with shock as my free hand reached out toward her.
“What?” She glanced at my hand uncertainly, clearly just as surprised by this turn of events as I was.
Her dress lay in a heap near my feet. Without taking my eyes off the dancer, I kicked it toward her. “Get dressed and come with me. Unless you want to die.”
Still watching me, perhaps watching me with as much wariness as I watched her, she grabbed the dress and yanked it over her head with a startling proficiency. I forced my eyes to stay on her face instead of wandering down to examine that gorgeous body; there wasn’t time for that sort of thing. The stripper grabbed my hand, and I pulled her to her feet.
“Where are we going?” she asked. She followed me up the stairs, but I kept my grip on her hand tight. I wasn’t going to give her the chance to get away.
“Don’t worry about that. Right now, we just have to get out of here.” As I got to the top of the stairs, yet another man in a butler’s suit stood waiting for me. By the way the gun wavered in his hands, I knew he wasn’t used to firing at anyone. Calzoni had hired him to show in the guests, pull out their chairs, and bring them glasses of wine. Unfortunately, he had also armed the man. I sent the last bullet in the magazine straight into his chest and barreled past him toward the back door.
Chapter Three
Alexis
The strange man had held my hand so tightly that my fingertips were numb by the time we finally stopped running. Once we had escaped from the carnage in the mansion he had led me through side streets and narrow alleys until he reached a black sports car parked in the shadow of an old warehouse, and we had sped off into the night.
I had no idea where we were now, but I could only guess it was the man’s apartment. It was a nice place, much better than the little slum where I lived. The stark white walls were a contrast to the deep mahogany furniture. Recessed lights made for a museum-like atmosphere, compounded by small statues and vases that looked expensive.
The man had bundled me into the place and slammed the door. He had never put his gun away, letting go of me only long enough to reload before we left the big house. He had even held it as he drove. Now, he kept it out and at his side as he paced.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked. I knew I never should have come with him. As I had watched him eliminate all those men, there was no doubt that things could only end badly. He had killed them with a cold efficiency I had only seen in the movies. He was a murdering machine. But he was right about one thing: I had seen too much. If I hadn’t followed him, then someone else would have come along to kill me.
He stopped pacing only long enough to glance at me. His eyes were such a deep brown; only his hair was darker. He might have been a handsome man if he hadn’t just murdered a room full of people and kidnapped me. “Nothing, right now.”
There was something threatening in his voice, and my stomach churned. “Then could you loosen these bindings a little? They hurt.” I squirmed in the wooden chair he had tied me to. The rope was rough against my wrists and ankles.
He shook his head, but didn’t look at me. “No.”
“I won’t try to get away. I promise. I’m too tired.” It was the truth. If I thought I could get past him, then I probably would have tried. But I had seen how good he was with that gun. I’d be dead in a split second if I tried anything, and I truly didn’t have the energy to do so. I was content to rest for a moment while this guy figured out what his problem was and I waited for the right moment to escape. I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold.
He gave a snort of a laugh. “Right.”
“Or you could just let me go,” I suggested. “I won’t tell anybody anything. You can blindfold me and drop me off in a parking lot somewhere, so there’s no chance I can even tell the cops where you live.” It seemed reasonable enough to me, and the guy hadn’t seemed all that happy about taking me with him in the first place.
“No! Now quit talking!” He stalked to the window and twitched the curtain aside, gazing out over the city for a moment before returning to his pacing.
For some reason, this offended me. Perhaps it was because I was used to men being putty in my hands, sometimes literally. “Hey, now. You’re the one who brought me here.”
“And maybe I shouldn’t have,” he retorted. He brought the gun up and pressed the tip of it to my temple. “I could have just killed you. Would you prefer that?”
I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut. I had pushed things too far. “No,” I squeaked.
He pressed his lips together in frustration and dropped the weapon. “That’s what I thought. What’s your name?”
I don’t know why I didn’t give him one of my stage names. I had used several of them, depending on what club I was working at or what routine I was doing. The customers rarely remembered them anyway, but it had seemed better than using my real name. Still, my words gave him the real answer before I had a chance to say otherwise. “Alexis.”
“Alexis what?” he demanded.
“Reid.” Even when I gave lap dances and some drunk with sour breath wanted to know my name so he could whisper it as he jacked off later that night, he never asked for my last name. It caught me off guard.
I shifted again in my seat. My back was getting sore, and through the crack in the curtains, I could see that the sun was beginning to rise. It had been a long night. I had nearly been done with my routine when this crazy man came in and changed everything. I had imagined that this gig might have been the one to change my life around. Sure, I was still dancing for a living, but it could have led to something more. Maybe one of those men would decide they needed a girlfriend to spoil, and I would have the chance to get a real job. It sure wouldn’t happen now that they were all cold and dead. “What’s your name?” I blurted out. I deserved to know who this man was who had ruined my big chance.
He eyed me again, and my heart skipped a little. How could such a good-looking man be such a brute? He hesitated, as though uncertain about the answer. “Lorenzo,” he finally said, running his hands through his trimmed beard.
It was a sexy name, but I couldn’t tell him that. He still terrified me. Just because he had hesitated to shoot me before didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of doing it at some point. I wondered what the headlines would be like when my body was found in some alley with my glitzy heels and trashy dress.
Suddenly, I realized that only one thing made sense. He might still intend to kill me, but there was a reason he hadn’t. It was the only reason that anyone had ever wanted to keep me around, including my ex-boyfriend, Dino. He had whispered plenty of nice things in my ear, but the only thing he had ever truly wanted was my body. Why should Lorenzo be any different? “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have your way with me. I won’t fight you. And then you can let me go.” My voice quivered on the last sentence. I k
new most men thought of me as a slut, but I really wasn’t. I didn’t want to sleep with some hitman, but I had to do something. I couldn’t sit here bound to this chair forever.
Lorenzo stood still for a moment. He stared at me, but he kept his eyes on my face. His gaze was so intense that I thought it might burn straight through me. At any moment, he would leap forward, untie the rope, and drag me to the bedroom by my hair.
“No,” he said instead. I was beginning to think it was the only word he really knew how to use. He continued pacing as the sun came up, sending a bright streak of light across the floor.
Chapter Four
Lorenzo
I was out of time. I had to make a decision, but Alexis made it so hard. Even her name was sexy. I knew she was scared of me. I saw the way she flinched every time I came near hear. And I couldn’t blame her. She should have been scared. By all rights, she should have been dead already. There was still a chance she might be before the day was over.
Her suggestions hadn’t been so terrible. I was tempted to do exactly what she suggested. There was no denying that I would like to have my way with her, but I wasn’t that kind of guy. Sure, I was a killer and a thief—a man whose life was constantly in danger. I’d had plenty of women, but I had never taken them by force. I never had to.
