If Christophe approved of his strategy, it would be because it was a well thought out plan with a solid chance of success.
If he didn’t, there would be good reason.
Damian let his eyes stray to the glass wall of the office while Christophe read. He could see into the cyber lab’s kitchen area where Aria sat with Charlotte Marchand. Damian had been surprised to see Charlotte there. According to Christophe, his wife spent most of her time at their apartment in Paris or their estate on the island of Corsica, personally overseeing the restoration of antiques that were something of an obsession for Christophe. Damian suspected Charlotte had accompanied him to the lab to keep Aria company, although the other man would likely consider it bad form to admit he’d gone to any trouble.
Charlotte was beautiful and reserved, not unlike Christophe, although Charlotte was American. Christophe looked at her with a mixture of pride and love that made his feelings obvious — the only time he wore his heart on his sleeve.
Damian knew the feeling. Looking at Aria, head tipped back to expose her slender throat as she laughed at something Charlotte said, made it impossible for him to ignore the warmth spreading through his stomach, the wave of love and need that was becoming familiar to him.
Christophe turned over the last piece of paper in his hands. Damian remained quiet, watching as the other man tapped his fingers on the desk.
“It’s a good plan,” Christophe finally said.
“Good?”
A ghost of a smile touched Christophe’s lips. “It’s a very good plan.”
Damian chuckled, shook his head. “Will it work?”
“It can’t hurt,” Christophe said. “It provides layers to your assault on the territory. They won’t be expecting that. Do you have enough men?”
It was a good question. Damian’s strategy hinged not on raiding Fiore and Anastos’s known strongholds — that would come later — but on disrupting their resource supply chain ahead of the war. That meant intercepting weapons imports at the harbor, detaining men at Customs on their way into the country from Greece, neutralizing their contacts at the NYPD who might tip them off or otherwise help them.
It would require a tremendous amount of resources — cyber resources to hack into the Customs databases and tip the ATF about the incoming weapons shipments, men on the ground to prevent distribution of any guns that managed to get through, sources inside the police department to make the cautious overtures that would be necessary to flip Fiore and Anastos’s snitches inside the department.
The force that would come later would be more easily executed if Damian pulled off the rest of it. It would mean fewer guns in the hands of the other side, fewer allies in law enforcement, fewer men making their way in from Greece.
But it would require a Herculean effort on the front end.
“I think so,” Damian said. “It’ll stretch my organization, but I’ll make it happen.”
“It’s smart,” Christophe said.
“You sound surprised,” Damian said.
“No.”
“Anything you’d add?” Damian asked.
Christophe seemed to think about it. “I think you’ve covered it rather well.” He hesitated. “What will you do about Aria?”
“Set her up in Westchester with enough men to hold off an army,” Damian said.
Christophe hesitated. “You’re welcome to leave her in Paris, if you like. I’m sure Charlotte would be more than happy to have the company.”
Damian considered it, imagined leaving Aria behind while he went to New York to kill Primo.
It wasn’t an option. He’d only just gotten her back. Neither of them would rest easy with an ocean between them.
“Thank you,” Damian said. “But she’ll be safe outside the city.”
Because I’ll make sure of it. Because I’ll kill any man who tries to hurt her.
Christophe nodded. “Consider the offer open-ended should you change your mind — or should things become more complicated in New York.”
Damian’s nod was slow. Yet another reason to be grateful for the brotherhood of the Syndicate.
“When will you go?” Christophe asked.
Damian’s gaze again strayed to Charlotte. Two days ago, he would have worried about taking her back to New York so soon on the heels of her rescue. But she seemed better today, more grounded. Her confession of everything that had happened — everything she’d felt in Greece — was only a beginning, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be okay.
And if she ever doubted it, he would be there to remind her.
They would go back to New York and take back the city that belonged to both of them.
They would rule it together.
“Tomorrow,” Damian said.
It was time for it to be over once and for all.
24
Aria laughed for the countless time as she sat across from Charlotte Marchand. The other woman had been one of the happiest surprises of Paris. Charlotte was as calm and reserved as Christophe, as elegant as any piece of art, but underneath it all she had a wicked sense of humor.
Aria had arrived at the cyber lab prepared to make herself scarce, or better yet, to find a way to help Damian with the plans he was making for New York. Charlotte had obviously been brought in to keep Aria company, but when she tried to object, Charlotte had waved away Aria’s concern with the assertion that it was good to be among the living and breathing as opposed to the oil paintings and antique furniture that were her usual company.
Charlotte had given her a layman’s tour of the lab, and they’d spent the next two hours talking over coffee like lifelong friends. Aria had learned all about Charlotte’s mother, an American actress whose name Aria recognized, and her father, a French antique expert who had passed away two years ago. They’d talked about Charlotte’s old job at the Getty museum in Los Angeles, and her relatively new life in Paris and Corsica as the wife of a titled Frenchman who also happened to be a member of the world’s most powerful organized crime enterprise.
Charlotte had provided yet another window into the private world of the Syndicate, a world more nuanced then Aria had expected. Maybe she’d expected them all to be like old world mobsters, but it was quickly becoming obvious that Nico’s vision for a modern criminal enterprise extended to the Syndicate’s women. From Angel’s philanthropic mission, to Jenna’s quiet life in Tuscany, to Charlotte’s ongoing restoration of antiques purchased for the apartment in Paris and the Marchand estate on the island of Corsica, it was clear there were no old-school expectations for them beyond loyalty.
Aria didn't know about them, but loyalty to Damian wasn't even a choice. He belonged to her and she to him. That she would always stand by his side had been a forgone conclusion; she just hadn’t known it until the chips were down.
Still, it was intriguing to get a glimpse behind yet another of the Syndicate’s curtains, and she watched with admiration as Charlotte stepped out of the kitchen to ask Christophe and Damian if they wanted coffee. Charlotte was solicitous of Christophe, but the way he looked at her made it clear that she had plenty of her own power.
Maybe it was a product of their business. Maybe it required that kind of devotion. Maybe the only way you could possibly choose it was if it wasn’t a choice at all, if your love ran so deep, if it was so undeniable, that denying it wasn’t an option.
She looked at Damian, sitting behind the glass wall of the private office where he’d been holed up with Christophe for the last two hours. She would take any life with him over a life without him. She’d once thought it would mean sacrificing herself, giving up the part of herself that she’d held above Primo’s business. She was beginning to see it wasn't true; she could make her life with Damian whatever she wanted it to be. Instead of turning her into someone else, it could be the instrument of her becoming the person she was — the person she was meant to be.
Charlotte re-entered the kitchen and sat down across from Aria. “Christophe promised they
’ll take us to lunch in an hour,” she said.
“I’m in no hurry,” Aria said.
She meant it. Being in the office — an historic building that had once been used for refrigeration, Charlotte told her — was an extension of the refuge that was Paris. The exterior of the building was nondescript, the neighborhood a little rough, but the security was significant.
Inside the building, they were surrounded by studious people tapping away at keyboards. It might have been any office in any country in the world, except here Aria knew they were doing the Syndicate’s bidding. It was one of the most fascinating aspects of the business, and she made a mental note to ask Damian more about his cyber operation.
“Will you be going back to New York with Damian?” Charlotte asked, sipping her coffee.
“I assume so,” Aria said. She turned her cup in her hand as she thought about Primo, about the nightclub she’d painstakingly decorated, the apartment that had been her home. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”
It would be different now. She would probably never see those places again — might not ever see Primo again — but it was still true. New York was her home. She would rebuild her life there with Damian.
She was surprised when Charlotte reached over and covered her hand with her own. “It’s hard in the beginning. It will get easier.”
She was opening her mouth to thank Charlotte, to ask her if it had been an adjustment to match her life to that of Christophe Marchand, when a ball of heat ripped through the center of the office.
She barely had time to register the roar in her ears as she was thrown to the ground and everything went dark.
25
Damian pushed himself to his hands and knees, barely registering the blood dripping from his face onto the marble floor. It was hard to see through the smoke, hard to breathe through it, but he had only one thought.
Aria…
He moved toward the kitchen and was immediately pulled back to the floor.
“Stay down,” Christophe commanded.
A split second later, gunfire ripped through the lab, the staccato of a semiautomatic rifle breaking the eerie silence that had followed the initial explosion.
Damian turned over the desk where he and Christophe had been sitting at the time of the explosion. It would give them cover while they regrouped.
He looked at Christophe. The man was surprisingly intact, his disheveled hair the only indication they were under attack.
“Weapon?” Damian asked him.
Christophe reached for one of the drawers on the desk and removed a handgun. “This is it in the office,” he said. “There are more in a safe downstairs. You?”
Damian removed the gun from the holster strapped to his side. “Same.”
“Charlotte?” Christophe called out.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Aria is fine.”
“Stay down,” Christophe shouted, his voice aimed at everyone else still in the lab. “Don’t move until we tell you.”
Damian shouldn’t have been surprised by the answering silence. Anyone working for the Syndicate — even in a cyber lab — would have been vetted and trained. If Christophe’s hackers were rattled, you wouldn’t know it.
“What about the women?” Damian asked.
“Charlotte will stay down until I come for her,” Christophe said, checking the magazine in his gun. “I’m betting Aria will do the same.”
Christophe’s words calmed Damian’s desire to charge through the office, push Aria behind him, dare anyone to come for her. Christophe was right: Aria would know. She wasn’t stupid — and she was no coward.
This was their war — their life.
Damian followed the path of the gunfire that had torn through the wall after the initial explosion. “I didn’t hear any other shots, did you?”
Christophe shook his head.
“It’s on the exterior wall,” Damian said.
“A warning?” Christophe asked.
It would make sense — the lab was locked down and none of the gunfire had come from inside. The explosion could have been a molotov cocktail thrown through the window. The gunfire would have to come from the building across the street.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Damian said.
They crouched low, staying under the windows as they made their way into the lab’s main office.
“Is everyone all right?” Christophe called out.
“Mac’s bleeding, but I think he’ll be okay,” someone shouted through the smoke curling the air.
“Someone call our contact at the police department, have them send an ambulance.” Christophe moved through the office. “And for god’s sake, stay down until we get back.”
They were almost to the door when Damian heard Aria’s voice.
“Damian!”
He looked back, saw her crouched on the floor with Charlotte. Her face was surprisingly calm, her eyes bright.
“Stay put,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
He followed Christophe into the stairwell and down the stairs. They flanked the door to the empty lobby — there was no need for a receptionist in an office that required a palm scan for entry — and Damian counted down their coordinated movement through the door.
They burst into the lobby. It was quiet, no sign of the assault that was taking place on the second floor.
“Tell me about the buildings around this one,” Damian said as they headed for the exit.
“They’re mostly empty,” Christophe said, “And only one of them has more than one story.”
He and Christophe were thinking the same thing: the shots fired into the second floor exterior wall could only have come from an adjoining building with a second floor.
“Where is it?” Damian asked as they flanked the exit in the same formation they’d used to enter the lobby.
“Across the street.”
Damian counted down and they stepped into the small alley that led to the lab’s entrance. It was empty.
“Let’s go,” Damian said, already heading for the street.
He half expected to be picked off by a sniper on their way across the street, but it was quiet except for the distant sound of sirens heading their way.
They hurried toward a crumbling brick building across the street, each of them covering different angles, watching the windows of the adjoining buildings for movement that never came. If Damian’s head hadn’t been dripping blood, he almost would have thought he’d imagined the whole thing.
The sirens grew louder as they reached the main floor of the abandoned building.
They stepped carefully into the shadowed recesses, trying to be quiet as they stepped over loose floorboards and trash left behind by vagrants and partying teenagers on their way to a staircase that didn’t look like a sure thing. The smell of mildew and old wood assaulted his nose as they approached the base of the stairs.
Christophe pointed to the rotting wood on one of the treads. Damian shrugged.
There was only one way up, and up was the only way to see if the assholes who had shot at them — and their women — were still there.
Damian led the way, stepping carefully on each tread, trying to minimize the creaks and groans of the rotting wood. He hesitated when he came close to the top of the staircase. There would be a split second when he wasn’t covered, when there would be no choice but to step into whatever was waiting on the second floor.
He waited for Christophe to catch up and hurried up the last few steps with his gun drawn.
He was standing on what looked like the landing of an old apartment building, the plaster walls long ago crumbled, exposing the rooms on the other side of the landing. As with the ground floor, there were broken bottles and empty food containers, used condoms and an occasional needle.
He started for the front of the building. It was the only place the gunfire could have originated. He had just stepped over the threshold of what must have been a front-facing apartment when he spotted the shell
casings shimmering on the ground in front of the window.
“They’re gone,” Damian said, lowering his weapon as Christophe entered the room.
“Son of a bitch…” Christophe bent down and picked up one of the empty casings. “Who did this?”
The walls were closing in on Damian. All he could see was Aria’s face after she’d met with Primo, her insistence that no one had followed her after their meeting.
She was probably right. She probably hadn’t been followed.
But Primo knew she was in Paris. That meant he knew Damian was in Paris too.
Damian turned to Christophe. “I need to tell you something.”
26
Aria sat on the sofa in the Marchand apartment, staring into the cup of tea Charlotte had insisted on bringing her. It had been hours since the explosion and shooting at the cyber lab, and Aria had stopped being surprised by Charlotte’s calm.
It had been Charlotte who had risen first from the floor when the paramedics arrived to help the man named Mac, suffering a gash in the head from the explosion that had thrown him against a desk. It had been Charlotte who had given the first accounting of the events to the police department, explaining that the cyber lab was headquarters for the digital operation of one of Christophe’s companies. Aria had learned later that the company was legitimate, although used more for the purposes of cover than as an actual revenue generator.
Charlotte had been the one to wrap a blanket around Aria’s shoulders, to walk among the lab’s shell-shocked employees, making sure they were all okay. She’d insisted on bringing Aria back to the Marchand apartment in Paris while Damian and Christophe finished giving their official account to the police.
But none of Charlotte’s care could change the realization that had Aria had come to shortly after the incident at the lab.
This was her fault.
She was still reasonably sure no one had followed her after the meeting with Primo in Paris, but meeting him at all had given him an important piece of information that he hadn’t had before.
Into the Fire (New York Syndicate Book 2) Page 12
