Angela stopped in front of her, yet kept enough distance so Maggie couldn’t strangle her throat. “You have a sharp tongue. I think I’ll cut it out before I kill you.”
Maggie tensed, knuckles cracking. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little girl. You’re in way over your head.”
“I don’t know if you’re Rebecca Sterling or another undercover bitch like her,” said Angela, pointing a thumb at Isabella’s dead body as it grew cold on the ground. “Either way, it ends the same for you.” She raised the gun.
“What if Peter finds out about all this?” Leon asked in a clear attempt to stall the inevitable. “You think he’ll want to make a deal with a backstabbing traitor like you?”
“I don’t much care, to be quite honest.” Peter West’s voice announced his presence a moment before he stepped into view, flanked by two of his own guards.
Leon growled. “You.”
“Yes, me,” said Peter, pleased with himself. He wrapped an arm over Angela’s shoulders. “Angela called last night after I left you two in Cannaregio with an offer I couldn’t refuse. She’s a better businessperson than her father could have ever hoped to be.”
Angela’s smug grin widened at his praise.
Maggie shook her head. Peter West was playing her, inflating her ego to get the best deal he could. He’d probably short changed her. Not that the new Mafia boss would care. It wasn’t about money for Angela. It was personal.
For years, she had worked towards the day where she could bury those responsible for her mother’s death, a vendetta that, as much as Maggie hated to admit, Angela had carried out to great effect.
“Should we get going?” Peter asked. “I’d like to arrange the first shipment. I have an opening coming up for a delivery in Southampton.”
“Let’s take my boat. I’ve wasted enough time on these two.” Angela turned on her heels and walked off with Peter and his two men. She called over her shoulder and left one final order.
“Kill them.”
Chapter 15
The armed men and women closed in around them, ready to carry out their boss’s orders.
“We’re not dying in a cemetery,” Maggie said, standing back-to-back with Leon. “Not today.”
“Get on your knees,” said the roof shooter, enjoying every second of his moment in charge.
Maggie stood her ground and waited for her advisories to narrow the gap between them. The closer, the better.
“I said, get on your knees,” he repeated, lowering his gun. He strode towards her like he thought he could force her into submission.
Maggie shot the man a wicked grin. She may not have her Beretta, but she still had her knives. Slipping one out from under her jacket sleeve, Maggie threw it at the approaching man.
The blade spun in the air and buried in her target’s chest.
The shooter made to step towards her but instead fell to his knees. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped to the ground in a dead weight.
Maggie didn’t waste any time celebrating her bullseye. She turned her attention to the rest of Angela’s henchmen. Leon was already on them, disarming the man next to him.
Procuring his gun, Leon used the man as a shield as he fired at the other guards, hitting one of the women between the eyes. She collapsed into the pile of dead bodies on the gravel.
Leon broke his shield’s neck, the bone snapping in the otherwise quiet air, and moved on to the others.
Maggie rushed toward one of the two remaining women before she had a chance to retaliate and drew her knife across her throat, the sharp blade slicing through skin to the sinewy muscles and tendons below.
Four down, two to go.
Only they were gone.
The remaining Rossi guards had disappeared in all the confusion, trying to avoid the same fate as their brothers and sisters in arms.
Leon made to run after them, but Maggie stopped him. “They’re pawns.”
He nodded, panting and eyes alight from the rush of fighting for their life, and they took off at a run, Maggie collecting one of the dead guards’ guns on the way. Passing through the gravesites, weaving between rows of tombs and headstones, they made their way back to the entrance where they’d left their boat.
“They don’t have much time on us,” said Maggie as they rounded the final plot of graves.
An engine roared into life, and Maggie darted her head to the docking station to see Peter West and Angela Rossi take off into the lagoon in Angela’s speedboat.
Angela waved to them as they set off, picking up speed.
“We need to hurry.” Maggie leaped into their boat and took position at the bow, gun at the ready.
Leon followed and ignited the engine, reversing out of the docking station as fast as the boat would carry them.
A bullet ricocheted off the side the front of the boat.
“Fuckers,” spat Maggie as the two runaway guards returned, expelling their magazines on them.
Leon ducked, still maneuvering the boat as he took cover.
Maggie leaned down and aimed her procured weapon at the remaining guards and fired.
She missed, a blast of stone puffing up between her two targets.
“Shit,” she hissed, pulling back. Wasting bullets wasn’t a good idea.
Leon spun the boat, put the gear in drive, and slammed the accelerator. The engine rumbled underneath them, chasing after Angela and Peter.
The two guards sent more rounds at them, but the boat was too far out now.
Maggie turned her attention to the main threat, coming to stand beside Leon as he navigated through the lagoon.
Shielding her eyes from the spray, Maggie spotted her enemy’s boat careening back towards the city. Her pulse quickened. “We can’t let them reach the city.”
“Too late,” called Leon through the wind, surging the boat forward with everything it had.
Angela steered into a canal, turning against the waves and sending a crashing blast of water into the air.
Leon tailed them, the gap closing with each second.
The approaching turn forced him to slow down to avoid capsizing the boat.
A horn rang, followed by frantic yelling as Angela overtook a water taxi, forcing the craft to crash into a line of docked boats that ran along the left side of the canal.
The taxi driver cursed them as smoke rose from his engine, the whole front side dented from the collision.
Leon picked up the pace and passed the taxi, the patrons inside pale faced with hands over their hearts.
More honking came from up ahead as Angela tried to dodge between the buildings and a vaporetto blocking the way. But the waterbus didn’t budge.
Angela gave up and turned into a connecting canal.
Leon followed, and Maggie spotted the back end of Angela’s boat as she swerved again, taking a left into a smaller canal, narrowly missing a passing gondola.
The gondolier tried to keep his balance, but the resulting force of the water caused him to trip, and he stumbled into the water headfirst.
Maggie leaned over the side of the speedboat and pushed the gondola out of the way to let them pass through after Angela. The gondolier popped his head up through the surface, spluttering and swearing, more angered than hurt.
Before Leon could slip the boat through into the next turn, a bullet whipped past Maggie’s ear and buried into the stone wall of the building nearest her.
A boat came up from behind them and continued forward, showing no signs of stopping.
“Watch out,” Maggie yelled as the boat ran straight into the back of them.
The boat jolted forward, sending Maggie to her hands and knees.
Leon’s biceps bulged as he fought for control, steering the boat into the turn and hitting the accelerator to carry on down the canal Angela had taken.
Peter and Angela were out of sight, but they had more pressing matters to deal with.
The attacking boat charged towards them again, the two
leftover guards from the cemetery hell-bent on stopping Leon and Maggie from reaching their new boss.
Back on her feet, Maggie took in their surroundings, narrowing in on the street signs pinned to the corners of the buildings.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “Uh, oh.”
“Just keep following Angela and Peter. Don’t stop.” She nudged her head to the boat behind them. “I’ll handle those two.”
“Got it.” Leon didn’t need any further explanation, his trust in her never-ending.
With no time to waste, Maggie wriggled onto the front of the boat and waited for the right moment. Leon continued down the canal, fast enough to spot Angela’s boat further ahead as it sped around yet another turn to try and throw them off.
Maggie waited for an opening and leapt in the air.
She jumped over the water and landed on the pathway running along the canal, breaking her fall as she collided into a group of screaming tourists.
Untangling herself from the frantic civilians, Maggie got to her feet and ran down the street, seeing the map of the city in her mind’s eye, her time studying it during her flight coming in handy.
Maggie thundered down the street, heading away from the canal, and weaved between tourists. Taking a right, and another right after that, she rounded the square and arrived at a bridge connecting one tiny island to the next.
Catching a glimpse of Leon, Maggie ducked, her chest heaving, and waited until the sounds of the boat’s engine whipped past under the bridge.
Maggie climbed onto the side of the bridge and dropped over the edge to the water below, timing it just right.
She landed hard on her feet, acute jolts of pain shooting up her legs. Maggie ignored it, and before the man had time to react to her crashing the party, she swept his legs from under him and sent him careening into the canal.
The boat slowed as the woman left her station and grabbed for her gun.
Maggie ducked through the interior and charged into her before the guard could aim her weapon. They toppled back, and Maggie sent a tirade of blows to the guard’s face, breaking her nose in a sickening crunch.
One final punch to the damaged bone, and the guard blacked out on the floor.
Maggie wobbled to her feet as sweat trickled down her back. She took the unconscious guard’s place and moved the boat forward, catching up with Leon.
Leon never slowed, but shifted to the side to allow Maggie to pull up next to him. She hopped back onto their own boat and left the other to carry on forward until it collided into a row of parked vessels with a splintering crash.
“Where are they?” Maggie asked, catching her breath, thankful for the cool wind whipping her face.
“Just turned down the next left.”
Maggie reorganized her thoughts, figuring out where exactly they were in the city and where Angela and Peter were headed. “That’s good,” she said. The canal had no other exits beside the one straight ahead of them. “It leads out into the lagoon at St Mark’s Square.”
They needed to lead Angela and Peter away from the tourist-filled streets, out into the safety of the vast lagoon.
Leon took the turn and stepped on it. They sped through the canal, Leon dodging passing boats and inching ever closer to their targets.
Two figures stepped out into the back of Angela’s boat and set their sights on them.
“Peter’s guards,” Maggie said, as water sprayed in front of the boat as an assault of bullets splattered into the canal.
Leon steered the boat in a sharp left, dodging out of the line of fire, but there was nowhere to turn in the straight canal. No side streets or corner turns to hide behind.
The guards sent their next round of shots.
Maggie yanked Leon out of the way as a line of bullets tore into the front of the boat, travelling up to the helm where Leon had been standing. The windshield shattered into a thousand crystal pieces and scattered across the bow.
“All right.” Maggie pulled out her procured gun. “That’s it.”
Getting down on one knee to steady herself, Maggie used the boat as cover and aimed at Peter’s men.
It was a long shot, especially for a handgun.
Angela and Peter were upfront, but Maggie’s view of them was obstructed by the interior. Instead, she moved along to the guards and trained her weapon on them. Just like she did with Jason Stroud back in Poland, Maggie aimed the shot, held her breath, and emptied her magazine. She normally wasn’t so wasteful with bullets, but under the conditions, the more shots the better her chances of striking true.
“Yes,” whooped Leon, “you got one.”
Maggie tossed the empty gun, useless to her now.
They passed under the Bridge of Sighs and sped out into the ending of the Grand Canal. Angela made to turn right and head into the main artery of the city, but Leon cut her off, forcing the drug dealers to head out into the open water.
Ignoring the remaining guard, Maggie dug in her jacket pocket and brought out the device.
“Closer,” she told Leon as they moved further and further away from land.
Leon propelled them on, ripping the engine to shreds in the process, its aches and whines drumming against their ears. “They’re heading for Lido.”
Maggie wasn’t worried. Angela and Peter may be heading for the long, thin island across the way, but they would never reach its shores.
She peered at the device, waiting until the little red light stopped blinking.
“Closer,” she urged again, her hair coming free from her ponytail and whipping behind her.
Leon careened forward, balancing the dual need to be close enough for their plan to work, but not so close as to cross into the line of fire.
The red light stopped blinking.
Maggie gripped the device in her hand, remembering her orders from Bishop, passed down from the Director herself.
Under no circumstance had the deal between the Rossi family and Peter West to go through.
Maggie pressed down on the detonator.
Two long seconds passed before all hell broke loose.
She caught one last look at Angela and Peter, too far off to read their expressions.
Then the boat exploded.
A wave of heat rushed over Maggie and Leon as the boat went up in a blast of burning orange and blood red.
Water rushed into the air, carried up with the boat as the earth-shattering explosion boomed across with lagoon.
A cloud of black smoke floated into the air as splinters of wood, human remains, and other debris plopped into the water around the black husk that was once Angela Rossi’s speedboat.
Maggie and Leon watched as the remains slowly drowned under the waves and sank to their aquatic grave in the salty depths below.
Chapter 16
A few hours later, Maggie lay out on the front of the boat in her bikini, soaking in the glorious summer sun. There was no guarantee London would enjoy similar weather once she got back, so Maggie basked in the warmth while she could.
Leon steered the hotel’s boat with a frosted beer in one hand, his skin shiny from the sun lotion she’d just rubbed over his naked torso, taking her time massaging it in. Not that Leon complained.
She held her phone to her ear and briefed Bishop on their successful mission.
“How did you know it was Angela Rossi?” her boss asked.
“When we learned the Marinos weren’t involved, we had to reevaluate what we knew. At the meeting on the rooftop terrace, Angela injected herself into the conversation and stormed off when Carlo reprimanded her. Next thing we knew, her grandfather was dead. With her conveniently out of the way, no one would think to point the finger.”
Maggie recalled the look Angela gave her grandfather before making her exit, a venomous glare that she had mistaken for tarnished pride. If only she knew then how deep the bad blood between them ran.
“You pinned her for the murders based on that?” Bishop asked.
Bishop slurped on his tea at the other end of the line. “The presence of the Marino brothers gave her the perfect distraction, too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Angela had invited them for that very reason.” Maggie recalled what Guido said about the brothers wanting to establish a business relationship. They would have gladly accepted Angela’s invitation, viewing it as an olive branch between the two families.
Angela had them all fooled.
Maggie sighed. “In the end, it came down to who had the most to gain. The Marinos were after a deal with the Rossis, and Peter West had already made steps to secure one of his own. It didn’t add up for either of them to take out Carlo and Stefano.”
“Whereas Angela stood to gain control of the family empire, while simultaneously carrying out her vendetta to avenge her mother,” added Bishop with just a hint of admiration in his voice. “Smart girl.”
“Not smart enough.” Angela’s plans had exploded. Literally.
Bishop cleared his throat. “And your contact, Isabella?”
“Dead.” Maggie closed her eyes behind her sunglasses. Watching allies die in the field was never easy. It wasn’t the first-time Maggie had experienced it, but each time it broke a little piece of her inside. They all knew the risks, yet it never stopped a good agent from doing what was right, and Isabella was no exception. Death reared its ugly head all too often in their line of work.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bishop knew better than most what it was like, being an agent himself since before Maggie was even born.
“She was a good agent.” Maggie fought to control the wave of emotion in her chest. “We couldn’t have done it without her.”
Teaming up with Isabella before the meeting in the cemetery had been vital to Maggie’s plan. She’d been wrong to suspect her involvement in the deaths, mistaking the woman’s complicated relationship with Carlo as an indicator of guilt.
Vendetta Page 9
