Lawless: Mob Boss Book Three

by Michelle St. James

  Nico and Luca spent the day filling them in and doing checks on all the equipment while Angel practiced with the lock picking set. She didn’t get much faster, but by the end of the day, she’d gotten more consistent. It was something.

  Now they were in the dining room, going over everything one more time. Angel was already dressed, the green gown gown hugging her curves under the lace, showing just enough cleavage to be suggestive without being outright sexy. The CWI fundraiser was a high dollar event. She needed to fit in with the A-List that would include socialites and philanthropists, politicians and business people, and she’d swept up her hair with tiny rhinestone pins that glimmered when the light caught them.

  “Give us until midnight unless I tell you otherwise,” Nico said. “Murdock isn’t going to deal with us while he has a houseful of guests, even if we get caught. But if we’re not out when the other guests start to leave, consider it a call for the calvary.”

  Elia folded his enormous biceps over his chest. His shaved head made him look menacing, and she had to remind herself that he was menacing for anyone who crossed him. Who crossed them.

  “And the mics will be live the whole time?”

  Nico nodded. “If they go silent, it’s a sign something’s wrong.”

  Marco leveled his gaze at Angel, already dressed for the fundraiser. “You sure you want in on this?”

  “I’ve been offered more than one chance to bow out.” She smiled. “I’m good.”

  “Well, we can be inside Murdock’s compound inside of five minutes. Say the word and we’re there.”

  She laughed. “Have you even seen Murdock’s compound?”

  “Not in person,” Marco said. “But it doesn’t matter. Anyone messes with you, we come in shooting. And when we come in shooting, we can get anywhere inside of five minutes.”

  The thought should have put her at ease, but all she could think about was how much she cared about these men. How much she loved each of them. She didn’t want them to risk their lives for her anymore.

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. But this is going to be easy. In and out.”

  They loaded the gear into the van they’d rented, and she watched as they strapped on the kevlar sent by Farrell Black. She eyed Nico’s tux. The stakes were higher than ever. She needed him to come out of this alive.

  “You are putting one of those on, aren’t you?” she asked him.

  He undid one of his buttons and gave her a glimpse of the black vest underneath his dress shirt. “I’d put one on you if I could get away with it under that dress.”

  She thought about the baby — their baby — and suddenly wanted to call the whole thing off. To run as far away as they could get before Raneiro’s deadline. But that was her fear talking, and no good decision was ever made out of fear. There was no way around this; they could only got through it to come out the other side.

  Nico and Luca clipped the tiny mics to their suit jackets. Then Nico slipped one inside the bodice of her dress, his fingers sending a current of electricity through her body as they brushed her breasts. He kept his eyes on hers while he clipped the device where it couldn’t be seen, then touched his lips to her cheek.

  “Call me if you need me.”

  She nodded, and they inserted the tiny wireless earpieces that would allow them to hear each other. She pulled a loose piece of hair a bit lower to hide hers, then looked at Nico and Luca.

  “Won’t someone see your earpieces?”

  “Probably not,” Nico said. “They’re pretty small. But even if someone does, it’s no big deal. We won’t be the only one with them at this event.”

  Angel understood. The guest list comprised of some of the most powerful people in the world. Personal security would be evident, and security meant communication.

  They did another mic check to make sure Marco and Elia could read them now that they were attached, and to make sure they could hear each other. Then the two men were driving off in the van, wanting to get in place outside the Murdock property before it got too congested with traffic.

  A few minutes later, a limo pulled into the driveway. Nico held open the door for Angel.

  “You really know how to treat a lady, Mr. Vitale,” she said, sliding into the back.

  “Only the best for you,” he said. “Although I’d prefer my own car to this rental.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be a snob.”

  Luca sat across from them, then turned around to confirm their destination with the gray haired driver. Angel took advantage of the opportunity to take Nico’s hand.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  “I’ve said a lot of things.”

  “About how it might come down to life or revenge,” she said.

  “And?”

  She drew in a breath. “And I want life. With you.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked.

  She nodded. “If you think we should work with the Feds, let’s do it.” She hesitated, thinking about all the dirt she’d gathered on the Syndicate in the months when she thought Nico was dead. All the information she’d planned to use to make them pay. “I might even be able to up the ante for your friend, Kane.”

  Luca turned around to face them, and the car rolled forward down the driveway. Nico squeezed her hand, bent over to kiss her softly on the lips. This was it. The beginning of the end, and hopefully the beginning of their freedom.

  She pushed away her regret that Raneiro wouldn’t pay for his crimes the way she wanted him to. Some thing were more important than revenge. She repeated it in her head until she believed it.

  40

  Luca handed their invitations to the driver as they joined the line of cars approaching the big iron gate. The line was full of limos, Towncars, and Mercedes, as well as a host of high-end European sports cars. Their taillights lit up the night in a wash of red, and Nico felt a sudden rush of fear, as if it was some kind of foreshadowing for the night ahead. He glanced over at Angel, her graceful neck exposed by the sweep of her hair, breasts swelling under the bodice of her gown. She belonged to him, and he would do anything to protect her.

  Anything.

  Finally it was their turn at the gate. The driver handed over the invitation, and they were ushered onto the long drive leading to the Murdock mansion. Lights lit up the driveway, the house a glittering jewel on the other side of a long stretch of the lawn.

  They waited behind the cars waiting to deposit their passengers at the front of the house. When they reached the valet, their driver got out of the car and came around to let them out. Luca stepped from the car first, giving his hand to Angel. Nico emerged last. He was glad the event was private. There had been a firestorm of activity after his press release, and he wasn’t ready to face the media attention. If everything went according to plan, he’d never have to face it; he and Angel would work with Kane and the Feds to set up a meeting with Raneiro, then hand everything over to them and be on their way. He touched a possessive hand to the small of her back as they made their way up the wide stone steps to the carved double doors. She had agreed to do it his way. They would get their new beginning.

  They just had to get through the next week.

  They entered a soaring foyer, a massive, glittering chandelier lighting the space from above. The floors were marble, the walls framed with mahogany wainscoting and elaborate moldings. A double staircase curved upward to the second floor — the location of Sean Murdock’s study.

  “See you on the flip side,” Luca murmured, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and slipping into the crowd so he could case the place.

  Nico was aware of the murmur of interest, the curious glances of the other guests. He avoided their gazes and tucked Angel’s hand into his arm, then followed the crowd to an expansive ballroom at the center of the house.

  A small orchestra played in one corner, and the center of the gleaming parquet floor was cleared for dancing. Couples wer
e already waltzing there, the women’s gowns fluttering in a lush wash of color that stood in contrast to the stark black and white tuxedoes worn by the men.

  He took two glasses of champagne off a passing tray, handed one to Angel, and touched his glass to hers. “To life.” He looked into her eyes, as deep and green as the rarest emerald. “And new beginnings.”

  She smiled. “Life. And new beginnings.”

  They drank, and Nico let his eyes roam the room, careful to keep his expression casual, almost bored. There were four guards in the ballroom, all of them in tuxes designed to help them blend in. Nico wasn’t fooled. Their watchful eyes gave them away, as did the occasional movement of their mouths — obviously talking into hidden mics — when no one was nearby.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he said to Angel.

  They moved out of the ballroom and were stopped by Morgan VanPelt, CEO of one of MediaComm’s biggest competitors. Nico nodded and smiled, offered terse explanations for the “confusion” surrounding reports of his death, and moved on as quickly as possible. It was’t the first time they were waylaid by gossip mongers disguised as well wishers, but Nico made it a point to be friendly — if not forthcoming — in an effort to stay as below the radar as possible.

  Their halfhearted attempts at socializing gave them the benefit of seeing the house, getting a handle on the layout and the position of the guards. Some of them were floaters, but others were relatively stationary, giving Nico a chance to get a somewhat reliable count. By the time they made their way through the grand hall, the living room, parlors and media room, the bar and recreational room (complete with four billiard tables and another bar), Nico had counted four guard in the big room, two in the smaller ones, and approximately ten roving the party from one room to the next. And then there was Ian Hayes, who seemed to be everywhere, watching Nico with careful eyes. The stationary guards weren’t a problem, but they would need to keep an eye on the rovers — and especially on Ian.

  They were making their way back to the ballroom when a voice stopped him from his right.

  “Nico Vitale.”

  He turned to find Sean Murdock eyeing him with a mixture of interest and suspicion.

  Nico knew the feeling.

  Ian stood near the wall behind Sean, arms folded in front of his body. Nico was surprised to find the man’s gaze not on him but on Angel, his eyes hungrily roaming her body. He tensed, fighting the urge to strangle the man into unconsciousness.

  “Sean.” Nico held out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m a big fan of your work.”

  He was smaller than he appeared in the photos Nico had seen online and on the news. Everything about his appearance was unremarkable — from his slight frame to his wire glasses to the brown hair the was one step away from receding. Everything except his eyes, which were intelligent and piercing. Nico knew immediately that it would be a mistake to underestimate the software genius.

  He might be a brainiac — but he was a dangerous one.

  Sean shook his hand. “That’s nice of you to say. I was surprised to get the call from your assistant given your recent… reintroduction to society.”

  Nico smiled. “I’ve been away too long. Have to get back in the game.”

  Sean nodded. “Things change quickly in this day and age. Simply being present is an advantage.”

  “That’s very true,” Nico said, trying to read between the lines.

  Nico thought back to the men who had broken into the flat in Rome. Had they asked for his name? He couldn’t remember, but he didn’t think so. They’d been more concerned with what he and Angel were doing talking to McDermott, and his mention of Raneiro had effectively deflected the attention from him to Donati.

  Still, he couldn’t assume Sean didn’t know he had been the one questioning Desmond McDermott in Rome. And it didn’t matter anyway. Sean could watch him all night. In fact, Nico preferred it. All the better for Angel to sneak upstairs.

  Sean turned his attention on Angel. “And who is your lovely friend?”

  Unlike Ian, his gaze was purely intellectual, as if Angel was a mathematical problem that could be worked by following a simple formula.

  “Sean Murdock, Angelica Bondesan.” He used Angel’s old name on purpose, hoping to throw off Sean — and Ian, who was still looking at her like a jackal about to eat her whole — at least temporarily. They might already know who she was, but there was no reason to hand them the knowledge.

  Sean kissed the top of Angel’s hand. It was bland, almost effeminate, and Nico wondered suddenly if Sean were gay.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Sean said.

  Angel tipped her head. “The pleasure is mine.”

  Sean straightened. “Well, I’m so glad you could attend. Clean water is one of the most important problems facing the world, don’t you agree?”

  “Absolutely,” Nico said. “I’ve made an additional donation to the foundation. I hope you’ll find it helpful.”

  “That’s very kind. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  Nico was still trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning in the words when Sean turned from the room, Ian Hayes on his heels. Maybe they’d get lucky and Ian would follow Sean around like a puppy dog all night. That would be convenient.

  He waited until they were well out of earshot to murmur in Angel’s ear. “It’s late. Let’s get moving.”

  41

  The conversation with Sean had thrown her. She’d noticed Ian Hayes undressing her with his eyes, but it was Sean who made her skin crawl. His eyes were cold — almost reptilian. Every instinct in her body screamed danger. It didn’t make sense. He was at least six inches shorter than Nico, and a good fifty pounds lighter.

  But she couldn’t help it. something about the man gave her the creeps.

  She and Nico were making their way back to the ballroom when Luca’s voice sounded in her earpiece. “I count eight rovers.”

  Nico turned his head. “Negative. There are ten.”

  “You’re the boss,” Luca said. “I’ve got eyes on three.”

  Nico looked around the room, and Angel saw the shrewdness in his gaze, knew he was counting. “I’ve got two here.”

  “Good enough to move?” Luca asked.

  Nico’s gaze flickered to Angel. “As good as it’s going to get. I’m sending her now.”

  “Copy that.”

  He looked down at her. “You sure about this?” he murmured.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “Look around.”

  He did, and she knew he saw the curiosity leveled at him from all sides of the room. He would be a gossip magnet for awhile yet, and while it had been the price of admission to the fundraiser, it also meant he wouldn’t be able to operate unnoticed in a room full of his peers.

  He sighed. “Be careful. Be fast. And say the word if you need me.”

  “Will do.” She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she slipped into the crowd and headed for the grand hall.

  She turned away from the foyer and headed for the kitchen. The house was old — even older than the Boston brownstone. Big, old houses usually had staircases at the back, leading straight from the kitchen to the upper floors. They were a throwback to another time. Back then, the dirty work of kitchens and laundry and servants was considered unseemly, hidden from the eyes of guests and even, to some degree, from the owners of the houses themselves. The servant’s staircase allowed for the ferrying of food, drinks, and other supplies to the upper floors without forcing polite company to acknowledge their existence. It was disgusting to think about now, but it had been a different time, and she was grateful for it as she wound her way through the boiling pots and white-coated staff in the kitchen at the back of the house. She was obviously a guest, and since no one knew who she was or how important, she was allowed to pass without question.

  She scanned the space quickly and found what she was looking for near the butler’s pantry. The door was nar
row, its threshold low. She looked both ways and put her hand on the knob, praying it was still in use. Picking a lock in a deserted hallway on the second floor was one thing; trying to do it when the kitchen staff could come upon her at any moment was another.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when the knob turned easily in her hand. A moment later she was slipping into a tiny vestibule so dark she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. Fighting panic, she leaned against the door and opened her evening bag, digging around until her fingers closed around the tiny flashlight she’d brought in case she needed it in Sean’s study. She twisted the top and the staircase was illuminated in front of her.

  It was low-ceilinged and narrow, with one staircase winding upward and one winding down, probably into a cellar. She moved upward, trying not to think about what she would find in the other direction.

  The staircase wound around two landings before she found a door. She put her ear to the wood, listening for voices. When she didn’t hear anything, she took a deep breath and stepped into the hall. It was wide, lit with sconces every few feet, the floor lined with richly patterned carpets that looked to be very old.

  She was obviously in the master’s wing of the manor house now.

  She called to mind the blueprint she’d memorized of the second floor, marking the doors down either side of the hall until her eyes came to the one that should be Sean Murdock’s study.

  Now or never.

  She made her way toward it, praying it wasn’t locked. The hall was deserted, the sounds of the party below muffled through the thick walls and carpets. But her isolation only served to make her more aware that she was trespassing. That if she were discovered, it would be difficult to concoct an excuse for being on the second floor when it was so obviously off limits to guests.

  She stooped at the door and turned the knob, cursing quietly when it didn’t move.

  Locked.

  Fuck.