by Dana Delamar
After a few moments, the dog blinked heavily and whined, shaking its head, drool running from its powerful jowls. Vince tried to step past the dog, but it snapped at him, the whine turning back into a growl, and his whole body went subzero. Don’t fuck it up, asshole. He looked around, wondering where the other one was. There were supposed to be two.
Peering into the darkness, he kept the big slobbering fuck in his peripheral vision. It wiped its face against the grass, then it finally flopped down with a heavy sigh.
Vince walked past the animal. He hadn’t gotten far when he heard panting and paws rapidly striking the earth. It took everything he had not to jackrabbit. He already had the lump of meat in his hand. He chucked it at the noise, hoping to distract the dog. It wasn’t long until he heard the clap of its jaws, the quick work it was making of the meat.
Fucking goddamn dogs. All they did was shed. And stink. And shit. He hoped the stupid fucks died from the sedatives. It was what they deserved. They hadn’t even barked. And they’d gobbled down food from a stranger. So fucking dumb.
The second dog went down as quickly as the first, and Vince stepped around it, slinking through the shadows along the hedge, making his way toward the house.
He paused about a hundred feet from the back terrace and checked his watch. Two-fifteen. The guards would be less alert by now. Lucchesi and the whore would be fast asleep.
He settled against a tree to wait. A guard would pass by in a few minutes, then he could sneak up and punch the code into the panel next to the French doors.
He’d been so stupid about Kate. He’d married her too soon, had never bothered to look past her nice-girl face to make sure he knew the woman under it. His next wife would be a simple girl, probably a distant cousin of his. Someone beautiful and sweet, someone who knew about the family business. Someone who would only want to give him kids, who wouldn’t need a career, who wouldn’t ask questions. Or look at other guys. Yeah, his next wife would be his. And she wouldn’t make a fool of him.
A guard walked by on schedule, light gleaming dully on the mini Uzi he carried. Vince waited until the guard stepped around the corner, then he sprinted across the open stretch of lawn up to the house. He flipped open the alarm panel, keyed in the code to disarm it, then picked the lock on the doors. Fucking child’s play. He was inside in a few moments. Lucchesi was a lazy fucker. Vince shook his head, smiling. Everyone said Lucchesi was smart. What the fuck did they know?
He eased the door shut behind him, then crossed the foyer and started climbing the staircase on the left. Lucchesi’s room was at the end of the north wing. He’d probably find the whore there as well. His gut twisted. Katie.
Maybe she wasn’t a fucking slut. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe there was hope.
His heart revved again as he crept up the stairs, quiet as a cat after a mouse.
Even if she wasn’t with him, Lucchesi was going to suffer for taking his woman. And she’d learn her lesson too.
This was going to be fun. For him, anyway.
CHAPTER 13
Enrico didn’t know what awakened him, but his hand was already halfway to the Glock in his nightstand drawer when he felt a sharp blow to his temple. He tried to shout a warning to Kate but managed only a stuttering gasp before everything went black.
When he came to, he was lying on his side. Someone had bound him hand and foot. The lights were on, and Vincenzo Andretti was straddling Kate’s naked body on the floor.
Enrico’s heart was a machine gun on full automatic. Andretti had a Beretta in his hand, and he was stroking the weapon down her body. He’d tied her hands together over her head. Kate whimpered low in her throat, her eyes glued to the gun, as Andretti spoke to her. “I hoped it wasn’t true, but here you are, naked. You fucking whore. You jumped from my bed to his just like that.”
“You tried to kill me!”
“I was just gonna rough you up a bit, keep you in line. But now that I seen this, I am gonna kill you.”
Rage whipped through Enrico’s body; his head buzzed, and his face grew hot. When he spoke, his voice sounded guttural, foreign to his ears. “Get the fuck off her. Now.”
Andretti looked up at him, his lips twisted into an evil grin. “Welcome to the party.”
“Get off her!” He wanted to strangle Andretti, but he could barely move his arms.
Andretti pointed the gun at him. “Lay back and watch with your mouth shut. I already told her I’d kill you if she screamed for help. The same applies to you, only I’ll stick this gun up her cunt when I pull the trigger.”
Enrico’s stomach cramped. He should have had a panic button added to his room when Strasser suggested it. “How did you get in here?” He pitched his voice low so Andretti wouldn’t try anything.
Andretti laughed. “There’s a snake in your family.”
Dom was right; there was a traitor. “Who?”
“Don’t matter since you’ll be dead soon.”
Enrico struggled against the ropes. “Vaffanculo!”
Andretti raised his brows and shook his head. “Fuck you? No way. But the whore here”—he caressed Kate’s cheek with the gun—“I’ll certainly fuck her. You just get to watch.”
Kate struggled against Andretti. “Vince, stop it. You’re not a rapist. This isn’t you.”
“Ain’t it?” he asked. “I changed, you said it. And you made me this way.”
“You’re blaming me?”
“You act like a whore, you’re gonna get treated like one.”
As Andretti’s hand moved toward Kate’s breast, Enrico detected some give to the ropes binding his wrists. It wasn’t much, but maybe it was enough. He went to work. The look on Andretti’s face said he’d stop playing any minute. And then he and Kate would be dead.
Vince squeezed Kate’s breast hard, making her cry out in pain. He smiled, his eyes alight with cruelty. Adrenaline arced up her spine, and she couldn’t control her breathing. It was the same look he’d had at the office, the day he’d attacked her. He’d kill her, then he’d kill Enrico. And this time Enrico couldn’t help. She’d tried to leave some slack when Vince made her tie him up. Vince hadn’t noticed anything when he double-checked her work; maybe she’d still tied Enrico too tightly to make a difference.
Vince squeezed her breast a second time, his fingers clawing into her, and she gasped again. “You like that?”
“I hate you.”
“We got to work on your attitude.” He lowered his mouth to her breast and bit down hard. The pain sliced deep; she couldn’t stop the shriek that tore out of her. Vince clamped his hand over her mouth. When he raised his head, there was blood on his lips. Stomach acid raced up into her throat, and she had to suck in air through her nose to keep from vomiting. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What am I going to do?
His fist slammed into her head just above her ear. “Shut up!” He pointed his gun—the Beretta Storm, his favorite—in Enrico’s direction. “Need a reminder?” She shook her head, and he removed his hand from her mouth. Licking the blood off his lips, he leaned closer. “Enjoying yourself?” When she said nothing, he laughed. “That’s better, bitch.” He raised himself up and pried her legs apart.
Hell no. Kate bucked wildly and clasped her tied hands together, bringing them down in a clenched fist on Vince’s cheek. His head snapped up, and he struck her twice across the face, hard blows that made her head swim. “Knock it off or Lucchesi bites it.”
Sobbing, Kate collapsed onto the rug. She couldn’t risk him shooting Enrico. Vince set the gun down and yanked her legs farther apart, then unbuckled his belt. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see what was happening. When his cock touched her entrance, her whole body shuddered in rebellion. This is not going to happen. Raking her nails across Vince’s face, she aimed for his eyes, her bitten breast throbbing. He needed to hurt.
“Christ!” Vince pressed a hand against the wound below his left eye and reared back. He raised his other hand to slap her, and Kate saw her death on his face.
As soon as he was finished with her, the fatal blow would come. She had to stop him. But how?
A sound behind her attracted Vince’s attention, and she tilted her head to look over her shoulder. Enrico had freed his hands and had his gun pointed at Vince. Thank God. Vince grabbed the Beretta from where he’d placed it beside her and sat back, yanking her up against him, using her body as a shield. Fucking coward. Kate kept her eyes on Enrico. He swung his bound legs over the edge of the bed and took aim again.
Vince raised his arm, pointing his gun at Enrico. No! Kate threw herself hard to the left, knocking Vince off-balance and pulling him forward. Both men fired at the same time, and she heard a heavy thud behind her. Enrico! “Kate!” Enrico yelled, his voice thick with worry.
“I’m okay!” Vince fell on top of her, blood pouring from his right shoulder. Pushing and twisting, Kate scrabbled out from under Vince and elbowed him hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Though her tied hands were clumsy, she snatched the Beretta from his weakening hold. Scrambling to her feet, she pointed the gun down at him and flexed both hands around the Storm, trying to hold it steady. “Fuck you, Vince.” Her voice trembled as much as her hands.
Vince leered up at her. “Aww Katie, you still want to be my pretty little whore?”
Her finger quivered on the trigger guard, and she adjusted her grip again, taking a shaky breath. Could she really pull the trigger? Or should she let the police deal with him? “Call me a whore all you want, but you’re a gangster, Vince. You’re scum.”
He laughed, but it ended in a wince. “And Lucchesi ain’t? He’s one of the big bosses. Why you think my uncle hates him so much?”
“What?” Kate looked behind her at Enrico, who was untying his feet. When Vince’s fingers wrapped around her ankle, her stomach lurched like a car on black ice. She’d done exactly what he wanted.
Vince jerked her leg out from under her. She fell to the other knee. “No!” she screamed and squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds into the base of Vince’s throat just as Ruggero burst through the door, gun drawn.
Kate swung around and aimed the Beretta square at Enrico, ignoring Ruggero, even though his gun was no doubt trained on her.
Enrico cried out for Ruggero to stop. Why was he so sure she wouldn’t shoot him? Kate glanced at Ruggero. His gun was indeed pointed at her, but she didn’t lower the Storm. Enrico was going to tell her the truth; a gun in the face would ensure it. “What was Vince talking about? Who are you?”
He left his Glock on the floor, then stood up. Skirting her and Vince, he crossed the room until he was between Ruggero and her, his eyes holding hers. When Ruggero moved to get an unobstructed sightline on her, Enrico turned to look at him, his voice angry. “Leave us.”
“I can’t. She has a gun on you.”
Enrico stepped closer to her, blocking Ruggero’s sightline again, but he was careful to keep his hands half-raised. “Kate, Vincenzo would say anything to drive a wedge between us.”
Had Vince lied? He’d certainly meant to trick her. And he’d hated her. She looked down at his bleeding body and burst into sobs. Her hands started to shake, almost completely out of her control, and she put up the Beretta, letting it rest against her shoulder. Enrico slowly closed the distance between them.
She was sobbing full out now, scaring herself. She let Enrico take the Storm from her hands. He handed it to Ruggero as he folded her in his arms. The sudden heat of his body told her how cold she was. And naked. In front of Ruggero. She shivered. “What have I done? Oh God.” Her voice sounded broken to her ears.
“Shh. It is all over, Kate. It is all over.” Enrico cradled her close, stroking her hair. He looked at Ruggero over his shoulder. “Go. Now. Call the polizia.”
The gun still kicked in her hands, Vince’s blood still spattered her face, her arms, her chest. Her mind was still consumed by the coldness and determination that had filled her with one purpose—stopping Vince, one way or another.
She looked at his body again, the blood so red, so thick, a dark pool spreading across the carpet. Had she really done it? It seemed a dream, surreal, unreal. She never imagined she was capable of killing. But the way Vince had stared at her without seeing her—he wouldn’t have stopped until she was dead. Until Enrico was dead.
She nestled closer to Enrico, then brought her shaking hands up to wipe her eyes. She jerked back when she saw the blood speckling her hands. Vince’s blood.
Kate stared at the droplets for a few moments. Her tears dried up. She’d made the only logical choice. It was him or them. This was all Vince’s doing, he’d set it all in motion. She was merely the instrument of his destiny.
“Are you okay?” Enrico pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her. Then he worked on untying her hands.
“No. But I think I’m a little better.” She watched him work at the knots.
“This is all my fault, I should have taken extra precautions—”
“The one at fault is Vince.” He finished untying her and she rubbed at her wrists, glad to be free.
“I feel responsible.” He faltered, his voice thick. “I swore I would protect you.”
Something inside her hardened. “Get over it.” Enrico looked startled. She pushed away from him. “You can’t protect me. No one can. I need to face that.” She took a deep breath. “I’m still a dead woman. Now it’s Carlo who’ll want my head.”
“He will need to take mine first.” His eyes were dark with anger.
Kate gestured around them. “How are you going to protect me? What good are all the guards? Someone close to you wants you dead. Who the hell can we trust?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Enrico shook his head. “I do not know. But I will find out who is responsible.”
“We’re both dead, Enrico. We just don’t know it yet.” He reached for her shoulder and she pushed him away.
He tried again, not allowing her to shake him off. “We will survive this.” He waited a beat, then said, “Vincenzo is dead. Just one more to deal with, yes?”
She shook her head. “Two. Carlo and whoever told Vince how to get in here.”
He had a hard decision to make. He needed someone he could trust, someone in addition to Kate. But who?
Ruggero knocked on the door. “The polizia are on the way,” he shouted.
Kate jumped at the knock. “I need a shower.”
“Wait. The police will want evidence….” He trailed off. Had she been raped? An ache gripped his throat. “From your body,” he finally said.
She hugged herself and tears filled her eyes. “I need a shower.”
His chest tightened. There was no choice. “You must not. You killed him. They will need physical proof of what happened. That he did it. He was your husband, but you are here in my home, in my bed. His actions will need to justify yours.”
“I want my clothes then.” Her voice vibrated with anger.
He gathered them up and offered them to her before he dressed himself. He didn’t know what to say.
The sing-song sirens of approaching emergency vehicles intruded on the silence between them. Within minutes, medics, police officers, and forensic investigators filled the bedroom. The medics checked Vince for vitals and pronounced him dead. Forensic techs took over, taking pictures and samples.
A police officer approached them, asked their names, took an initial statement from Enrico, then told them to wait.
Kate watched the activity around them in a daze, Enrico’s arms wrapped around her, his chest pressed against her back. As she looked at Vince’s lifeless body, her anger abruptly gave way to sorrow. She placed her hands on Enrico’s forearms.
An inspector in the black and red uniform of the carabinieri approached them. “Maresciallo Capo Silvio Fuente,” he introduced himself. At Kate’s look of confusion, he clarified his rank for her in lightly accented English. “Chief Marshal. May we talk elsewhere?” he asked Enrico, though it was clear from his voice that it wasn’t a question.
>
They went downstairs to the study. Kate and Enrico sat side by side on the sofa and Fuente took one of the chairs, crossing his ankle over his knee. He removed his hat and perched it on his knee.
Enrico picked up the phone and called Maddalena. He asked for espresso for all of them.
Fuente looked at Enrico closely. “So, at last we meet, signore.”
Something passed between Fuente and Enrico, and Kate picked up on it. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
Fuente raised an eyebrow at Enrico. “She doesn’t know?”
“Know what?” Kate asked.
Enrico reached over and squeezed her hand. “Nothing.” He turned to Fuente. “May we have a word in private?”
Fuente gave him a small, tight smile. “Of course.”
They walked outside to the rear terrace. What did Enrico want to say to this man that he wouldn’t say in front of her?
Enrico escorted Fuente out to the moonlit garden. He glanced at Kate through the window. One wrong word from Fuente in front of her…. He turned to the inspector. “You obviously know who I am reputed to be.”
“Reputed? It is a fact.”
Enrico smiled, the same tight smile Fuente had given him earlier. “But never proven in a court of law.”
“The law has limits; the truth does not.”
Enrico almost liked the man; he didn’t mince words. “The signora does not know who I am alleged to be. For her own safety, I wish to keep it that way.”
Fuente stroked his dark moustache with one finger. “You are friends with Maggiore Alfonso, yes?”
Enrico wanted to smile, but he held it in. Major Alfonso was the station chief in Milan. “I am. Very good friends.”
“I have four children. They all wish to attend private universities, but I have only a carabiniere’s third-rank pay. It’s hard to get a promotion to fourth rank.”
“Practically impossible, as far as I know.”
“Sì. It’s almost unheard of for an inspector to be promoted to a commissioned officer’s rank.”
