Killer Love

by Drake, Tabatha

  All of them.

  Luka smiles. “As I said, I’m not leaving until we’re done negotiating. Give your guards a break and let’s talk.”

  Antony stands still, his eyes withholding a screaming tantrum. Finally, he nods at his guards to back down. Enzo drops his gun into Fox’s open palm.

  “Not bad, kid…” Antony murmurs.

  “Turns out, it doesn’t take very much to convince people to knock the Zappia clan down a notch,” Luka says. “You’ve pissed off a lot of people.”

  “Power isn’t earned with cupcakes and rainbows. What do you want?”

  Luka doesn’t blink. “I already told you.”

  “You want me to abandon Italy?”

  “You and your entire family.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “There is nothing in my family more sacred than this, Lutrova,” Antony shouts. “Only a Zappia may rule in Italy.”

  Luka smiles. “But I have one.”

  Antony’s eyes shift to his sons. “Who?”

  I feel Luka squeeze my hand, firing adrenaline straight through my heart.

  “Me,” I say.

  The anger in Antony’s stare turns furious. “No…” he seethes, his face turning up with disgust.

  I hold up my hand, revealing the small scar that remains on my finger from my wedding day. “My blood is your blood. My flesh is your flesh. From now through eternity. Is that not the Zappia way?”

  “You are no Zappia.”

  “My name may change, but my blood is Zappia blood. If you deny that, well…” I smile. “Where would this family be if we didn’t follow the rules?”

  Luka smirks.

  “You have no place here,” Antony spits at me, shaking his head.

  “I think the last thing you need to concern yourself with is Sofia’s place, Antony,” Luka says. “Her place is right where she’s standing now. Beside me.”

  “So, that’s it, then…” Antony growls. “You come in here and you take my family and my business, and you give it to her?”

  Luka takes a step closer and towers above the old man. “Gio killed my father,” he says. “He killed Rosalie. Your family took my family first.”

  Antony looks down.

  “I planned on killing you,” Luka admits. “Out of respect for my father’s memory and the friendship he had with you, I changed my mind. That is the Lutrova way. Don’t be angry with what I’m taking from you, Antony. Be happy with what I’m letting you keep.”

  A sweet shiver runs down my spine and it curls my toes.

  My Luka.

  “And what exactly do I get to keep?” Antony asks.

  Luka gestures around. “I will let you keep Chicago. In time, I’m sure you will rebuild it.”

  Antony’s face falls. “Rebuild?”

  “In this city, it’s hard to see the stars,” Luka says. “But look up into the sky tonight… and you will see smoke.” He turns around to Enzo. “Yuri said your deli was lovely. He almost regretted lighting the match.”

  Enzo’s face grows with panic. He looks at Antony to intervene, but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

  Five businesses were built in the Zappia name over the last two years, each one of them shameless fronts for Italian mafia deeds.

  Ten minutes ago, they were all reduced to ashes.

  “You son-of-a-bitch…” Antony grinds through his teeth.

  “Rome is mine,” Luka says, his tone strong and cold. “Moscow is mine. Chicago is yours. I will leave your casino intact as a sign of good faith, but if I find out any of your brood has set a fucking toe in Italy again, I will come back here. If I find out that you are giving aid to Gio in any way, I will come back here, and I will take the rest of what is yours for myself. This is the new truce. Negotiations over.”

  I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding and my heart pulses wild for him.

  Luka looks around the room and nods, telling the crowd to lower their guns. They all obey and the entire group moves calmly toward the exit, leaving the casino abandoned with an eerie calmness.

  Without another word, we turn and follow them to the exit with Fox trailing close behind us.

  “This is treason, Lutrova.”

  “No, Antony, this...” Luka pauses in the open doorway and smiles at me. “This is war.”

  Chapter 27

  Sofia

  I follow the black clouds as they travel in the sky above my head. Thick, smothering smoke bleeds into my nose with every breath but each new inhale makes me smile a little wider.

  Pedestrians on the street do as I do. They stare up into the sky as they go about their evening fun, completely oblivious to what caused the string of arsons around Chicago tonight.

  I stand by the car, leaning against the trunk with Fox beside me. His watchful eyes scan the passing crowd for any signs of trouble as we wait for Luka and Yuri to come back. He slides the baseball cap off his head for a second to run his fingers through his thick, brown hair, and I take another close look at him before he throws the hat back on.

  I wonder if this is how he’ll be from now on, completely obscured in the shadows to avoid whatever he’s running from.

  “Where will you go now, Fox?” I ask him.

  “I’ll disappear,” he says with a shrug.

  I study his eyes beneath the cap, recognizing a little bit of myself inside, but that’s not who I am now. This is the old me. Desperate and scared. The one who was willing to end it all until Luka appeared in front of me and showed me a different path.

  “In my life, I’ve known two types of men,” I say. “There are men like Gio who act for themselves, for survival, and men like Luka who act for others, for love. I look at you, Fox, and I don’t see Gio in you.”

  He raises his head and peeks at me from beneath his cap.

  “You have a love,” I say. “Don’t you?”

  He softly clears his throat. “Yes.”

  I tilt my head as his expression changes. “What’s her name?”

  A half-smile bleeds through his lips. “Dani,” he answers.

  I smile back. “You will go to her now.”

  “No.”

  “She doesn’t feel the same way?”

  “I’ll never know.”

  Darkness returns to his eyes as he looks away from me. I know so little about Fox, but I recognize pain when I see it. A familiar pang teases my gut, throwing me all the way back in time to the blackest moments of my life that I’d rather forget.

  “I was like you once, Fox,” I say. “Separated from the life I desired and the person I wanted to be. I didn’t think there was anything out there that could help me.”

  “What changed?”

  I look up as Luka appears from the dark office building across the street with a duffel bag in his hand. He and Yuri head in our direction and I smile.

  “A light came to me and, with it, a new life. Tomorrow, it may come to you.”

  Fox turns to me, his hard expression barely moving as he looks me in the eye. I see it again, that soft restraint staring back at me, but I know he hears me.

  Finally, he nods.

  Yuri pulls open the car door and lowers himself onto the backseat as Luka joins us by the trunk.

  “As promised,” he says, holding the bag out to Fox. “Fifty-thousand for every kill.”

  Fox stands still, refusing to take it until Luka pushes it a little closer and forces him to. He unzips the top and peeks inside. “I’m impressed you kept count,” he says.

  Luka tilts his head. “I may have rounded up a little.”

  Fox closes the bag and tosses the strap over his shoulder.

  “You know, I was going to kill you,” Luka says.

  “I knew you would try,” Fox quips. “What made you change your mind?”

  Luka shrugs and glances at me. “Sofia, she… she’s grown attached to you.” I raise a brow and he sighs. “Let’s just say you’ve earned my respect.”

>   Fox smirks. “Fair enough.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay here? I could use a man with your talents. As you can see, I pay very well.”

  “No, thanks. I’m retired.”

  “Well, if you ever change your mind…” Luka extends his hand. “You will always have a friend in Moscow, Fox Fitzpatrick.”

  I smile at them as they shake hands.

  “Thank you,” Fox says.

  Luka’s eyes shift toward back to me. “Thank you,” he says to Fox.

  I wrap my arms around Fox. Slowly, he returns the warm embrace. It’s a kind and quick act of affection, but I want him to feel it. I want him to know it still exists in his world, no matter how much he may think otherwise.

  As I pull away, I kiss his scarred cheek. “Goodbye, Fox.”

  He smiles and nods at both us before turning into the passing crowd. I don’t look away until he disappears around the corner, blending into the wind.

  Luka takes my arm and tugs me into his body, flashing a devious wink in my direction. “American pretty boy gets a kiss and I don’t?”

  I pop onto my toes to peck his cheek. “Feel better?”

  “Almost.”

  He leans in, aiming toward my lips, but I slide from his grasp to pull the car door open instead. He growls softly, amused and teased, and I chuckle at him as I lower myself inside.

  Luka sits beside me and waves to the driver to get us moving. “Let’s go home.”

  Yuri scoffs from the seat across from us. “Or we could stay here for a day or two? Take in the sights. Have some fun.”

  “Yuri…”

  “No, I like that idea.” I smile. “We could stay for another night. See the city? See the ballet!”

  Yuri groans even louder.

  “The ballet?” Luka parrots back at me.

  “What? You don’t like the ballet?”

  “I am a Russian mobster, Sofia,” he jokes. “I love the ballet.”

  I laugh and settle beneath his arm. “Okay, no ballet. What would you like to do?”

  His eyes fall down my body and that answer becomes obvious. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a few of these fancy American hotel rooms you hear so much about…”

  “We did not come halfway around the world to waste time in hotel rooms, little brother,” Yuri scolds.

  Luka’s lips brush my cheek. “Maybe you didn’t, Yuri…”

  Yuri rolls his eyes and looks out the window at the passing city. “Fine. Be boring.”

  I lean into Luka’s kiss, feeling my face flush red.

  He opens his eyes and grins. “You are smiling, lyubov’ moya.”

  “I am happy.”

  “It looks good on you.” He kisses the edge of my mouth and tugs at my dress collar to peek inside. “Unlike this pesky and bulky—”

  Yuri groans again and Luka glares at him with annoyance. “Save it for the hotel room, please.”

  I put a little distance between us on the seat, still smiling wide. “Sorry, Yuri.”

  Luka sits back and sighs, turning out his hand for me to take. I pause as fear forces me to stare at it.

  My pulse slows, nearly halting completely with the passage of time. Black mist clouds my mind, threatening all that I think is real and true. I’ve reached for his disappearing hand so many times before and, for a moment, I wonder if all of this is just a dream.

  I lay my hand in his and his strong fingers entwine with mine.

  Luka Lutrova.

  The boy in the garden shed with kindness in his eyes.

  I’m finally home.

  Chapter 28

  Luka

  I step into the warehouse and I inhale a deep breath. The air is thick and warm with that familiar stench of blood and sweat. Morning sunlight pours in through the windows, illuminating every black hair on his downturn head, and I smile.

  The man sits in the chair at the center of the room with his hands bound behind his back. A black, tactical vest. Red blood dripping from his lips.

  It’s almost nostalgic.

  Stefan Petrovin stands nearby with Nikita and two of their men, looking just as eager as I feel. The hissing man killed Hans. Stefan’s son. Nikita’s brother. I’m not sure which of the three of us will enjoy this more.

  Markov walks in behind me and slides the door closed. “Make it quick,” he says to me.

  “We still have plenty of time, Markov.” I smirk.

  His eyes flash with impatience, but he doesn’t argue.

  I walk to the chair and the man looks up at me with that same cocky glance he had the last time he was here.

  “Privet, stranger,” I greet him with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  He licks the blood from his lips. “Hi.”

  “I bet you didn’t think you’d end up back here in my warehouse, did you?”

  His shoulders bounce. “It was unexpected.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

  I chuckle. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

  “I implore you to tell me — in great detail.”

  He wants to get me talking. The more time he wastes, the higher the chances of him being rescued again.

  “I wanted to tell you a story.”

  “A bedtime story?” he quips.

  I shake my head. “I read enough of those to my son. No, the story I have for you is more of a… cautionary tale.” I pause, staring him down. “Thirty years ago, someone put a bullet through my grandfather’s eyes.”

  He spits onto the floor. “My condolences.”

  “Recently, the same happened to my father.”

  “Sounds like a pattern to me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Maybe you should get out of town.” He chuckles. “You might get a pretty decent head start if you leave now.”

  “Why would I do that?” I ask. “Your squad isn’t coming for you this time, Thomas Bradley of Alberta, Canada.”

  His smirk fades.

  “What?” My lips twitch. “You have nothing to say? No snarky reply?”

  He flexes his jaw in anger.

  “Good. From what I’m told, Miles Lemont didn’t have one either. Or Amelia Amuzgar. Zahir Bolen. Lance Brockett. Stacey Lupoli.” I watch the life fade from his eyes with each name I list off. “This was your squad, yes?”

  He swallows. “Was?”

  “Was.” I smile. “Snake Eyes was a very good secret, but it’s not anymore. Now, it’s a checklist. We check off you and your squad today. We check off another one tomorrow.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing…” he warns.

  “Snake Eyes has spilled too many drops of Russian blood. I’m going to track down every last one of you and do the same. Starting with you. That’s what I’m doing.”

  He falls silent, gently trembling as his fate sinks in.

  “Did you enjoy my story?” I ask him. “Would you like to hear another one?”

  Markov clears his throat and taps a finger against his wrist.

  I give him a quick nod and reach into my belt for my pistol as Nikita’s smirk grows a little wider. “Before I kill you, Thomas Bradley, I want you to do one thing… for old times’ sake.”

  He flinches as I lean over to look him in the eyes.

  “Hiss for me.”

  * * *

  Markov throws open the trunk and reaches in before I even make it out of the warehouse. He spins back around as I reach the car and shoves a black garment bag into my arms.

  “Change on the way,” he says, pointing a stern finger at me.

  I chuckle as he rushes toward the driver’s side, but I don’t argue. It might be a little later than I thought it was, but she’ll surely understand.

  I pull the zipper down on the bag and smile at the black tuxedo hanging inside.

  Yuri’s waiting on the steps when we arrive, pacing back and forth in his own tuxedo. When he sees me, he throws up his hands.

  “It’s about time...”

&nbs
p; I shrug and make one final adjustment to my cuff links. “I was busy.”

  He grabs the chapel door. “Explain that to your bride.”

  I squint at the sudden change in lighting as we walk inside, but everything shifts to sudden clarity when I see her waiting for me at the altar.

  My bride.

  My mother flashes me that scolding stare, but she keeps her smile for the bouncing boy in her arms. I offer her a kiss on the cheek as I pass by her and she tugs on my sleeve.

  “Did you have somewhere more important to be today?” she murmurs for my ears only.

  “Of course not, Ma…”

  I take Lucian from her and balance him on my hip, looking down to admire his tiny tuxedo. He chuckles at me as I tickle his chin.

  I spin away from her to stand beside Sofia.

  My Sofia. Dressed in white from head to toe with a bouquet of pink roses in her hands, just as she always wanted. I can barely make out her face behind the white veil, so I use my free hand to roll it back over her head.

  She smiles at me. Those beautiful eyes. Those pink lips and colorful cheeks. Everything about her shines. There’s no fear of the unknown. No malice for strict tradition. Not even a tremble of hesitation.

  That frightened girl cowering behind a mangy tablecloth in the darkness is gone.

  She looks at Lucian and we grin at him together. If there’s anything in this world more perfect than she is, it’s him.

  “Dearly beloved…”

  We turn forward as the priest begins. I reach out for her hand. She lets go of her flowers and rests her palm against mine. We steal one more glance at each other, and her attention lands on my neck.

  Sofia sighs softly and drops my hand to grab the handkerchief from my breast pocket. The priest continues as she whips it free and slides it beneath my chin.

  She twists her hand to show it to me. I cringe at the blood-red drops staining the white cloth.

  “Did you get him?” she whispers, tossing the handkerchief to the floor behind us.

  I clear my throat. “Yes.”