Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2)

by Michelle St. James

  He explained that it would normally take several weeks of safety lessons before she would be cleared to shoot, but they didn’t have that luxury now. She would have to learn the basics, and she would have to learn them fast. He took her through the pieces of the gun, showing her how to eject an empty clip and how to load a new one. He took special care explaining how the safety worked and cautioning her never to point it unless she meant to follow through by shooting.

  When he was done, he walked away, returning a moment later with something that looked like old fashioned headphones.

  “These will protect your hearing,” he said, setting them carefully over her ears.

  He got a pair for himself and maneuvered her to one of the firing lanes. At the end —too far away it seemed—was a target shaped like a person. He lined her up in the lane, moved behind her, and grasped her hips, telling her to widen her stance as he placed his big arms over her smaller ones. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until he gently closed his hand over her forearms.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. It’s just a machine. Like a car or a lawnmower.”

  “A car or a lawnmower,” she repeated.

  “Exactly. Any difference comes from attributes you’re assigning it.” He paused. “Don’t. It only has the power you give it. I’m going to teach you how to use it, and you’ll see that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  He explained how to raise her arms, how to hold them, how to line the target up in the gun’s site. She followed his instructions, her heart beating like a trapped bird.

  “Okay, now,” he said, “when you’re ready, take a nice, easy breath, and when you exhale, gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull, just squeeze.”

  “Squeeze,” she murmured.

  She could feel his presence behind her, but she forced herself to focus on the target at the end of the lane. She inhaled, then let it out slowly and squeezed.

  The gun bucked a little in her hand, and she heard the shot reverberating through the firing range even through the protective ear covering.

  “Not bad for a first try,” Nico said, coming to stand next to her.

  She followed his gaze to the paper target. It took her a few seconds to find the tiny hole at the edge of the target’s torso.

  “Not bad?” she asked, her competitive spirit kicking in. “I barely hit it.”

  He turned to look at her, and she had to resist the urge to lean in, touch her lips to his. Her body felt supercharged with adrenaline, the gun sending some kind of primal message of danger to her brain. It was fucked up, but she couldn’t deny it, and she wondered again if there was something primitive in humanity’s DNA that got turned on in the face of danger.

  Hurry up and propagate the spices before we all die.

  He smiled. “Then try again.”

  She raised her arms, aimed, took a breath, let it out, and squeezed. This time the shot landed closer to the center of the target’s torso.

  “Nice,” Nico said. “Again.”

  It took her twenty minutes to land a shot squarely in the chest of the target. Nico explained that she shouldn’t bother aiming for the head if her life were threatened. It was too small a target, her odds of hitting it too small. Better to aim for the chest. Worse case, it would buy her some time.

  Exhaustion swept over her all at once as Nico took the gun from her hands and locked it up in the cage. Her body had been firing on all cylinders, primed as if it were in real danger. Now she was crashing hard, her mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. She didn’t like guns. Didn’t like violence in general. She never had.

  But she couldn’t deny the power she’d felt holding the gun, power that came from knowing she could stop someone from hurting her. From hurting someone she loved.

  How far would you go to protect the ones you love?

  Until now she’d had the luxury of never having to ask herself the question. Now she wondered if she had it in her to do what was necessary to protect David, to protect Nico. To protect herself, too. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was happening to her.

  Nico wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the room. When he’d locked the door, he turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  “For what?”

  He shook his head. “For this. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”

  She sighed. “We can’t do that, Nico. None of us knows where we’d be if things had turned out differently.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But you wouldn’t be here.”

  “No, I’d be somewhere without you.” She stood on tip toe to kiss him. “And that’s somewhere I wouldn’t want to be.”

  It was true, but it still didn’t answer any of the questions in her head. What would happen to them when this was over? Could she live with Nico’s business to have him in her life?

  And would he even want her there?

  22

  “Angel… Time to wake up.”

  She was drifting in a pleasant darkness when Nico’s voice pulled her clear of it. She sat up in the Porsche and looked around, taking in the landscaped grounds of a mid-century modern home in the Hollywood Hills. Palm trees dotted the front yard, illuminated with perfectly spaced lights and bordered with a stone pathway. Above them on a small hill, she could make out people milling around a living room inside the house, the faint sound of music a backdrop to their laughter.

  “We’re here,” Nico said. “You slept the whole way.”

  She opened the compact in her purse and checked her makeup, glad she’d chosen to keep it simple with a bare face, eyeliner and mascara, and pale pink lipstick. She’d kept her hair simple, too, pulling it back into a low, sleek ponytail. Everything about LA was different from New York, including the makeup and fashion, and she’d learned how to navigate those differences when traveling with her father.

  “I’m beat,” she said.

  “Will you be okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He handed her something that looked like a modified flash drive. “Put this into the USB port on his computer. Sara’s waiting in New York to install a backdoor on his system. It will only take her a minute to do it, but wait two minutes, just to be safe.”

  “Do I need to let her know once it’s plugged in?”

  “She’ll know,” he said. “It’s programmed to connect immediately to her computer.”

  “And she’ll be able to access his data with this?” Angel said.

  “Barring some kind of serious security,” he said. “And John doesn’t strike me as very tech-savvy.”

  “What else should I look for?” she asked.

  “Papers, files, anything that won’t take too long and won’t get you into trouble. But that stuff is all secondary to the computer, because if we have that, we have everything, even his phone assuming he backs up online.”

  She took a deep breath and slipped the device into her purse. “Got it.”

  “It’ll be okay.” He took her hand, rubbing his thumb along her palm in a gesture that lit a fuse between her legs. She tamped it down, wondering what was wrong with her. She was not the kind of person to be turned on by taking risks. Especially not risks like this one. “I’ll make sure you’re covered until you’re done.”

  “I trust you,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “I do,” she whispered, surprised to realize it was true.

  An expression of worry crossed his face before he managed to hide it. “Let’s do it.”

  He came around to open her door and they started up a winding pathway to the house, awash with light at the top of the hill. The dress swirled around her legs in a delicious tumble of silk, and the warm night air caressed her exposed décolleté. She wished that just once, she and Nico could be dressed up to do something normal—not to have dinner in hiding at the Hudson Valley house or
stay under the radar in Miami or plan the theft of intellectual property in Los Angeles.

  At this point, dinner and movie would be nice. Or even movies on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. She tried to imagine Nico doing something so normal. It wasn’t as difficult as she expected, and she felt a pang of loss when she remembered that she probably wouldn’t be the one to do those things with him.

  The door was opened by a small man with dark hair and delicate features. Nico greeted him by name, and Angel realized this was John Lando. Everything Nico had said about him made sense; with his linen pants and open collared tunic, he was more movie executive than mob boss. And it wasn’t just his clothes. He had a skittish air about him that made Angel think he was way out of his element, even here in his own home.

  “This is Angel,” Nico said, introducing them.

  “I can see that,” John said, kissing her hand and trying to be charming. Her stomach turned over as she returned his smile. This was someone who might know where David was being held. Who might be helping Dante.

  And that made John Lando every bit the scum Dante was.

  They made their way into John’s house, past a crowd of people in the living room to the bar that was set up in what looked like a media room. A group of well-heeled people were sitting in the movie-theater style seats watching Taxi Driver on a big screen at the front of the room. Angel thought she recognized Elizabeth Kramer, an A-list actress, and a few other movie people, but she kept her focus on the house, letting her eyes roam the layout while Nico talked to John.

  John got them each a drink and led them back out into the living room where he introduced them to a producer Angel had never heard of and a tall, lithe blond woman that looked vaguely familiar. John excused himself a moment later. She and Nico made small talk with their new acquaintances until Nico took her arm, saying they were going to look for food.

  He led her to a table groaning with shrimp, sushi, fruit, and more finger food than Angel had fingers. Nico handed her a plate and started piling food on top of it while he spoke under his breath.

  “There’s a big guy with a mustache standing in front of the hallway,” he said softly. “That’s Gino Carelli, John’s Underboss.”

  She turned with the plate of food, popping a shrimp in her mouth while she scanned the room, looking bored. She passed over Gino when she spotted him, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but her stomach coiled into a knot at the sight of him.

  Gino was no John Lando. At least six-four, he had arms that were as thick as tree trunks, beady eyes, and a scowl that reminded her too much of Dante. His jeans and leather jacket left no doubt that he couldn’t have cared less about the movie business.

  He was obviously here on family business.

  “He’s here to keep an eye on me,” Nico said. “Lucky for us, it looks like he’s the only one.”

  Angel ate something that looked like a mini-crab cake. “If you say so.”

  “I’m going to say hello,” he said. “Stay here.”

  She placed her free hand on his forearm. “Nico…”

  He covered her fingers with his own without looking at her. “It’s okay. Mingle. Act like you’re happy to be here. We’ll give Gino some time to let down his guard before we make our move.”

  He walked over to Gino, extending his arm to shake the other man’s hand. Gino did not look happy to see him, and Nico played along, exhibiting a careful mix of familiarity and reserve. It was smart. If Gino was running the west coast family, he would be intuitive enough to be suspicious if Nico were too friendly, especially under the circumstances.

  Nico was keeping it real.

  Angel did the same, picking up her champagne glass and moving away from the table of food. She talked to actors and set designers, movie editors and musicians, even a marine biologist who was consulting on a film about deep sea exploration. It wasn’t as difficult as she’d imagined. She asked a lot of questions, let everyone else do the talking so she could nod and smile while they talked about their favorite subject—themselves. It left her mind free to observe the house, to keep an eye on Gino and John, to notice the way Gino’s eyes followed Nico wherever he went.

  After about two hours, Nico appeared at her side while she was talking to a group of people not much older than her. They were looking for funding for a small indie film they were producing, and Angel found that she was interested in spite of the circumstances.

  “Let’s go outside, darling. I think John’s pool is like the one you were talking about for the house in Miami.”

  Darling? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  Angel extricated herself from the conversation and walked with Nico to the patio on the other side of the kitchen. It was magnificent, set on the edge of the hill, nestled into the landscape with natural rock borders and a small waterfall. The lights of Los Angeles glimmered in the distance.

  Nico led her to the edge of the patio and turned his back on the house, making it look like they were checking out the scenery.

  “Gino’s on edge,” he said. “I think we’re good.”

  “Please tell me why that’s good,” she said though clenched teeth.

  “Because I’ve made a point of being nosy. He’s on guard now—but only with me. I’m going to head out the front alone. He’ll come after me when he sees that you’re staying inside.”

  “What if he thinks you’re going to the car or something?” she asked.

  “He won’t risk it. For all he knows, I’m trying to sneak back into the house through a window.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to slow the surge of adrenaline running through her body. “Okay.”

  “Head to the bathroom as soon as I leave,” Nico said. “Make sure the hall’s clear and try the third closed door on the right. It should be John’s office.”

  “Should be?”

  He shrugged. “I asked John for the number of a mutual acquaintance. That’s where he went to get it. It’s the best I can do. And it doesn’t matter if I’m wrong, because John is posturing with Hollywood royalty and I’ll be keeping Gino busy. No one else here gives a shit.”

  She nodded, trying to calm her nerves. “Got it.”

  He reached for her hand. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “David’s out there with Dante. If we don’t save him, no one will.”

  “We’ll find another way.”

  “What way?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Then this is the way,” she said. “It’ll be fine. Like you said; you’ll keep Gino busy. I’ll check John’s office.”

  “Okay, but keep an ear out for John. He’ll still be inside at the party.”

  She thought of the diminutive man who’d opened the door to them. “I can take care of John if I have to.”

  He scowled. “Just get out safe, Angel. That’s all.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Now go.”

  He stared at her for a long minute. She knew from the look in his eyes that he wanted to kiss her, but a moment later, he went inside.

  She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then dumped her champagne over the edge of the patio and returned to the house with her empty glass.

  23

  Everyone was talking, laughing, maybe a little drunk. They’d gotten comfortable, and someone had turned the music up.

  Good.

  She set her glass on the bar, watching in her peripheral vision as Nico headed outside. Gino was on his heels before he’d even shut the door behind him.

  Angel picked up her newly refilled glass and headed for the hall, trying to look casual. She had her hand on the bathroom door when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She froze, then turned slowly, half-expecting Gino to be staring her down.

  It was a woman in a long black dress, her red hair styled in a braid that hung over one shoulder. “Is there another one?”

  “Excuse me?” Angel asked.

  “Another restroom.�
�

  Angel almost cried with relief. “I think so.” She stepped away from the door. “Here, take this one.”

  “Are you sure?” the redhead asked.

  Angel smiled. “Totally. I think there’s another one down the hall.”

  “Thanks,” the woman said. “All this champagne.”

  Angel laughed, lifting her glass a little. “Agreed.”

  She waited for the woman to close the bathroom door, then continued down the hall. She turned the knob to the third door on the right, half-expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t, and she slipped quietly into the room.

  The lights were off, but a faint glow lit the room from the pool and patio on the other side of curtained glass doors. She took a minute to look around, getting her bearings.

  Sofa, two chairs, coffee table, desk.

  Laptop on desk.

  She hurried over to it and opened the computer, careful to stay out of the light seeping in from outside. The pool was around the corner of the house, but she didn’t want to risk having her silhouette spotted by someone looking for a moment of quiet or a couple searching for a private place for a hook up.

  She marked the time on the display as the computer came to life.

  12:02

  There was a password screen, and she inserted the device Nico had given her and watched as the System Preferences window opened as if by magic. A second later an empty search bar appeared. Letters and numbers started moving across it, some invisible hand (Sara in New York?) using the device to take control of John’s computer. Just when she thought the show was over, a black screen popped up, and some kind of code scrolled quickly across the surface.

  12:03

  She was close, so close, to something that might lead her to David.

  Something rattled by the glass door, and she ducked, moving farther out of the light, her heart feeling like it would beat out of her chest.

  “Trust me,” a male voice said outside the door. “John won’t mind.”

  The knob rattled as they started to enter the room.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  She looked at the computer. The code was still scrolling, and it was still 12:03.

  “Looks like it’s locked,” a different male voice said. “Too bad.”