by Dana Delamar
“Where’s Gio and my mother?” Cris asked.
Benedetto gestured with his gun. “Crying in the library.”
“Where’s Antonio?” Enrico asked.
“Dead,” Ilya said.
Delfina’s and Kate’s eyes shimmered with tears. But neither one let them fall. Jesus, they were strong.
After a moment of silence, his father swallowed visibly. So Antonio’s regard for Nick’s father wasn’t one-sided. “Let the women go,” his father said.
Ilya laughed. “You must be the great Don Lucchesi.”
“And you must be the dog Ilya Vilanovich.”
Ilya growled and pulled Delfina closer. “You want her gutted?”
Nick’s heart stuttered. “No,” he said, hastening to his feet and stepping forward. He ignored the sound of Ilya’s men climbing in through the windows behind his back. “I’m the one you came for. I killed your sons. Take me, and let the women go.”
“Not enough,” Ilya said.
“What else do you want?” Nick asked.
Ilya gestured to Cris. “That one. He is also responsible.”
“I was the one who fired,” Nick said.
“No matter.”
“It matters to me. Those were my kills. He doesn’t get credit.” Nick prayed Cris would keep his mouth shut.
He didn’t. “I got you into this, Nick.”
“No. Benedetto’s to blame.” Nick glared at the man, but he held Nick’s gaze, unashamed. “Why did you do it?” Nick asked.
“Do what?” Benedetto said.
Keep him talking. Maybe they’ll get distracted. “Turn on your family.”
“I haven’t. Vilanovich has my father captive. I have no choice.”
Was that true? “You’re lying.”
“No more talking,” Ilya said, his gruff voice cutting through the room. He pointed the knife at Nick. “You, drop gun and kneel. You also,” he said, motioning to Cris.
Fuck and double fuck. Nick dropped his gun.
“Now!” Ilya barked. “All guns down now!”
Nick swallowed hard, his stomach rebelling as he knelt on the carpet, bits of plaster and glass biting into his knees. They were surrounded, outmanned and outgunned, Kate and Delfina hostages. But it wasn’t until this very moment that he lost all hope. Delfina was going to see him die.
“No.” His father’s voice rang out. “You kill my boy, you had better kill me. Because I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, Ilya Vilanovich.”
“Then all of you die,” Ilya said. He glanced at Benedetto. “I take Lucchesi territory and everything your nephew owns.”
“You told me you only wanted revenge,” Benedetto said.
“My plans changed.”
“Mine haven’t.” Benedetto opened his mouth to say more, but turned and frowned, which was when Nick heard it—the scrabbling of paws on marble and the deep-throated growls of two very upset Rottweilers. Had Dario freed them from Cris’s room?
Benedetto let out a howl of pain as Orfeo bit into his calf. He pushed Kate away while he tried to shoot the dog. She crashed into Ilya, who pushed her back into the hall, sending her flying. “Kate!” his father yelled.
Nick grabbed his gun and jumped up. This was his chance. Ilya stumbled backward, and Nick hurled himself at the big man, hoping to separate him from Delfina. Time stalled, slowed, lost all meaning as Nick’s focus narrowed. Ilya pivoted and braced for Nick, pulling Delfina closer, the knife resting against her neck, and then Nick realized the error of his plan—if he slammed Ilya to the ground, there was every chance he’d kill Delfina by shoving Ilya’s knife into her throat. Nick pulled up short, coming up on his toes as he struggled to stop his forward momentum. He caught himself with his gun hand on the entryway and had to drop the Beretta to keep from toppling into them.
Ilya smiled when he saw Nick’s gun hit the carpet. “You lose,” the Russian said.
The Swarovski crystals on Zeta’s collar flashed as she launched herself at Ilya’s back, the dog’s snarls sending a shiver through Nick’s belly. When Ilya swayed under the dog’s assault, Nick saw his second chance and grabbed for the knife, twisting hard on the Russian’s wrist, Ilya’s arm feeling like it was made of living iron, not muscle and sinew. While Nick pried at Ilya’s fingers, Delfina slipped downward in a graceful pivot that let her move an arm’s length from Ilya. He still had hold of her left wrist. “Zeta!” Delfina yelled. “Attacca!”
The Rottweiler leapt in the air, going for Ilya’s throat. Ilya dropped Delfina’s hand and struck at the dog with his fist, slamming into her nose. Zeta yelped and thrashed.
With Ilya occupied, Nick grabbed Ilya’s gun and wasted no time firing at the man, hitting him in the neck and just below the left ear. The Russian raised a hand to the wound, then fell back to the ground, Zeta leaping on his chest and tearing at his throat.
Nick pulled Delfina to him. As the room behind them erupted with gunfire, he yanked her into the hall, jumping over Ilya’s body and shoving her to the floor behind the wall. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Cris. You’ve got to help him.”
“I know.” He kissed her cheek, then started back for the sitting room. His father was in the hall cradling Kate to his chest as the dogs tore into Benedetto and Ilya. Benedetto had his arms crossed over his head and was crying for someone to help him. Not bloody likely.
His gut tightened. Cris could very well be dead. Ruggero had been the only one still focused on Ilya’s men, and even though the man knew his way around a gun, he was only one person. And there’d been three Russians left. So who was still shooting?
He crouched down by the entryway, feeling the slam of bullets higher up on the wall. Peering around the corner, he saw Ruggero crouched down firing at someone with a mini Uzi, his face blood streaked and grimmer than ever. Where was Cris?
He finally spotted him, behind the downed gifts table. He was picking up guns and discarding them, searching for one that wasn’t empty.
One of the Russians pitched forward, and that’s when Nick realized—someone was shooting into the room from outside.
Ruggero took aim at the remaining Russian and pulled the trigger, blowing the side of the man’s head off. “Basta!” he yelled.
The firing outside ceased, and the only noise Nick still heard, apart from the ringing in his ears, was Benedetto’s feeble cries for help. He looked across the sitting room, startled to see Dario and a gray-haired, somewhat heavyset man step into the room through the remnants of the double doors, both of them carrying Uzis. “Tommaso!” Ruggero shouted, then embraced the older man and slapped him on the back.
Dario ran toward Nick. “Cris? Delfina?” he asked.
“They’re both okay.”
Cris rose from behind the table. “Papà.”
Dario embraced him. “Grazie a Dio,” he murmured into his son’s hair.
“Help me!” Benedetto called again.
Dario, Nick, and Cris walked into the hall. Orfeo had clamped onto Benedetto’s arm and was whipping his head back and forth, like he was trying to break the neck of a small animal.
“Orfeo,” Cris called softly. “Basta.”
The dog stopped moving, but held Benedetto’s arm clamped in his jaws, his teeth bared, a low growl rumbling from his chest. “Orfeo,” Cris said again. This time the dog dropped the man’s arm and backed away, then turned and went to Cris, licking his hand.
Delfina had an arm around Zeta, hugging the dog close as she lapped at the blood on Delfina’s neck. Nick wanted to go to her, but he had unfinished business. Benedetto was still alive.
Nick glanced at his father and Kate. Relief washed over him when he saw Kate speaking to his father. Ruggero stepped into the hall and went over to them.
Turning away, Nick followed Cris over to Benedetto, who was cradling his arm. “What do we do with him?”
“I told you. No one lives,” Cris said. “My gun is empty. He is yours.”
Dario huffed with laughter. “Lucch
esi doesn’t have it in him.”
When Benedetto struggled into a sitting position, Orfeo circled back, growling as Cris took hold of his collar. Benedetto looked up at Nick. “Can you murder me? Because that’s what this would be.”
Nick stared into the man’s cold gray eyes, his gut churning. Who knew what would happen if Benedetto lived? He’d repeat that story about Ilya holding his father captive, and Lorenzo would probably back it. And then what? None of them would be able to rest easy.
Raising the gun, Nick said, “This isn’t murder, Benedetto. It’s justice.” Then he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the man’s throat. Benedetto fell backward, and Nick stepped toward him, firing once more, this time into Benedetto’s forehead. It was done.
Dario clapped him on the shoulder. “You truly are an Andretti.”
Nick turned. “I’m not. I’m a Lucchesi. I ask you to release me to my father’s cosca.”
“No,” Dario said. “You took a vow to me.”
“Papà,” Cris said, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder. “This family owes Nick a huge debt—he’s saved both Delfina and me.”
Dario’s gaze darted from Nick to Cris, then back. “You cannot keep your vow to my son and be in another cosca.”
“We are allying the families, yes?” Nick’s father said. “If so, Nick can keep his vow to Cristoforo.”
Dario muttered a curse, then nodded. “I release you.”
Nick went to his father. He could hear sirens drawing close. He met his father’s eyes and held out his right hand.
“I need a knife,” his father said. Ruggero handed him a switchblade.
Flipping Nick’s hand palm up, his father drew the tip of the knife in a short shallow cut across the center of Nick’s palm. Then he startled Nick by doing the same to his own. What was this?
His father clasped their hands together, bloody palm to bloody palm, and he swiftly kissed Nick on both cheeks. “Sangue del mio sangue,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Blood of my blood.
“Sangue del mio sangue,” Nick repeated, his voice likewise strangled by a lump in his throat.
Ruggero swore. “What?” Nick asked.
Ignoring him, Ruggero focused on Nick’s father. “Will you bind him to the cosca?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand,” Nick said.
His father held his eyes. “You are bound only to me, as father and son. When I die, you are free to choose another capo. Or not.”
“I do not like this,” Ruggero said.
His father turned to Ruggero, his face hard. “My son has proven himself.”
Ruggero blew out noisily. “He is still with Interpol.”
Was he? Nick wasn’t so sure.
“He can be both. But above all, he is mine.”
Nick nodded, the lump in his throat growing bigger. It was true. “Always.”
“Very well, Don Lucchesi,” Ruggero murmured, bowing his head.
They heard gruff cries from outside. “Polizia! Carabinieri! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!”
CHAPTER 26
It was nearly midnight by the time the polizia and carabinieri had left. Delfina felt near collapse. Antonio was still alive, though critically wounded. Her mother had bandaged his wounds while Gio—thank Heaven—had gathered up the courage to sneak behind Benedetto and Ilya and free the dogs from Cris’s room. She’d saved them all.
The polizia found Lorenzo locked in the pantry. He said the Russians had taken him captive. None of them could argue with his story, since it matched Benedetto’s claim.
The carabinieri questioned them—particularly Nick—very closely regarding Benedetto’s death. Nick maintained that he’d shot Benedetto in self-defense. The interrogation hadn’t ended until a second lieutenant by the name of Fuente arrived. He’d vouched for Nick as a member of Interpol. This had raised a great many eyebrows, but the man had shut down the remaining questioning, saying that the situation was classified, per the DIA.
Flavio and nearly all of her father’s guards were dead. After the police left, her father explained that someone—either Benedetto or Ilya—had bribed Flavio. He’d given the Andretti guards guns full of blanks. The only real resistance the Russians had met was from the handful of men her uncle had brought, all of them dead but Ruggero and Tommaso.
Numbness had settled over her like a blanket. She’d hardly spoken to Nick since the ordeal had begun. His proposal had seemed real, but now that she had time to reflect on it, she wasn’t sure. Had he merely been trying to save himself? How would she ever know?
She lay curled up on her bed, Zeta by her side, the dog’s broad head shoved under her hand. Zeta kept nuzzling and licking her, giving up the occasional soft whine. All Delfina wanted was to sleep. But that sort of peace eluded her.
Nick would be leaving soon, going off to his father’s house, perhaps even, back to London. Why hadn’t he spoken to her? Had he already left? Was this how it was going to end?
She heard the tread of footsteps outside her door, then a light rapping. “Delfina?” Her heart fluttered in her chest. Nick.
So he hadn’t left. Maybe he was just coming to say goodbye, but maybe—hopefully—not. “Come in,” she called.
He stepped inside. He’d washed his face and hands and combed his hair, even changed clothes, which made her realize she hadn’t done the same. She glanced in the mirror over her vanity. Dio mio, she looked a wreck—her eyes and nose red from crying, her hair tangled, her beaded cream dress torn and filthy with plaster dust and blood.
But Nick was staring at her like she’d just stepped off the runway of a Gucci show. “I thought you’d left,” she said, her voice rusty, even a bit accusatory. Not what she meant at all. “Forgive me, I—”
He cut her off. “I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness.” He came forward, and Zeta let out a warning growl. Delfina wrapped her hand around the dog’s muzzle and forced the Rottweiler to focus on her. “Zeta, no. You know he’s a friend. Stop it. Everything is okay now.”
The dog whined and licked her fingers. Delfina released her muzzle and nudged the dog off the bed. “Lie down,” she commanded her, and Zeta curled up beside the closet after licking the hand Nick offered her.
“Come here,” Delfina said to Nick, tapping the bed beside her.
“You used the same tone with the dog,” he said, amusement in his voice.
Her cheeks heated, and he laughed. “Sorry,” she said.
He sat down beside her and took her hand. “I meant what I said earlier. When I proposed to you, I meant every word. And what I couldn’t say then was that I’ll quit Interpol and go anywhere you desire. I want you to have the career you want, wherever you want. You choose.”
A great warmth filled her chest. Finally, someone—the man she loved—was putting her desires first, just like Aunt Toni had said should be the case. Except… “But you’re still in the ‘Ndrangheta.”
“Yes, but my father has promised to let me do what I wish, provided I don’t betray my vows.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. “I was afraid to tell you how I felt before. I didn’t see a future for us because we were on different sides. But now I do.”
The warmth spread throughout her body. “So what you said to Benedetto and Antonio on those recordings—”
“Wasn’t the full truth. Wasn’t anywhere close.” He pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it between his thumb and index finger. “It took me half an hour of searching, but I found it. Lucky thing Fuente shooed all those crime-scene techs out, or one of them might have pinched it.” He grinned, then blew out hard. “Will you marry me, Delfina Andretti? Will you make me the happiest man alive?”
She could hardly breathe. He meant it. All of it. But he still hadn’t said the words she longed to hear. And she didn’t want to ask for them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his grin fading.
She searched his face, not sure how to ask the question that plagued her.
“Why do you want to marry me?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
She shook her head. “It’s not.”
He frowned. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything.”
“Clearly you do.”
A lump grew in her throat. She wasn’t going to beg him to love her. She shrugged and turned away.
He took her hand. “Help me out, Delfi. What’s bothering you?”
She looked at the corkboard above her vanity, at all the pictures she’d pulled from magazines of designs she loved, mixed in with some of her own. He was offering to make her dreams possible. Wasn’t that enough?
It wasn’t even close.
She’d give him one more hint. “Something’s missing from your proposal.”
His brows drew together as he mentally reviewed what he’d said. All at once, his face relaxed. “I’m an idiot,” he said and grinned.
“You are?”
He nodded. “A big, sodding idiot of enormous proportions.” He set the ring on the bed cover and took her face in both hands, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. He took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to say this to anyone. Not for a long time.” His voice thickened. “Not since my mum died.” He paused, and her eyes grew hot with tears. He’d lost so much, too much, too young. “But it’s time I got over myself.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, then rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Delfina Andretti.” His voice was soft, just above a whisper.
A flood of warmth washed over her. She closed her eyes and put her hands over his. “One more time, per favore.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I love you, Delfi.”
A great thrill swooped through her. “Just once more.”
He laughed this time. “You’re getting me back for laughing at you when you said you loved me, yes?”
She nodded, still not opening her eyes.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, his smile coloring his voice. “Would you like me to go downstairs and shout it out loud?”
