Fire Bound

by Christine Feehan

  He needed to be alone. Away from them all. He had surrounded himself with incompetent bodyguards and idiotic soldiers. Men who cared more to beef up their bodies than their brains. It was necessary at the time. Now, he needed intelligence. More than intelligence, he needed cunning. An ally. Someone to take Arturo's place. Giacinta could have been that person. She wasn't male, but she was smart. So damned smart and loyal.

  He called the one soldier he decided would make the best bodyguard, since he couldn't have his niece. He called Tomasso and issued orders. He wanted Tomasso to come to his home and pick him up. He wanted to see for himself the man's reaction to the fact that he had two homes, a wife. Sons. If Tomasso wasn't the man he thought him, he'd kill the bodyguard and replace him.

  Luigi prided himself on being a good judge of character. He had bested his all-powerful big brother. The chosen one. The one who had gotten the most beautiful woman Luigi had ever laid eyes on. Never once had Elizabeta looked at him. She had eyes only for Marcello. Luigi had been the one to tell Marcello about the beautiful woman he'd seen. Marcello had known Luigi wanted her, but he still went after her. He'd married her, and then his father left Marcello the family business. As always, Luigi had to protect Marcello simply because there was a birth order, not because Marcello was smarter. Hell no. He wasn't and he never had been.

  The best thing his brother and his bitch of a wife had done was to have Giacinta. Even then, Luigi had been smart, making a fuss over the baby, coming around often to take her places and make both Marcello and Elizabeta think he adored their child. It was easy enough to talk them into getting dogs and a dog handler. Of course Luigi would handpick the man. Now that he'd been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a brilliant, masterful move on his part, he was put in a position of consultant and could slowly ease his way to buying a much needed restful retreat at the edge of the sea, a good distance away.

  "Luigi!" Angeline's whiny voice set his teeth on edge. "Are you even listening to me? For God's sake, I just lost my brother. I can't understand why you're not paying attention to the boys or me. They've lost a beloved uncle."

  The vision of his hands around her throat rose up. He'd been having that a lot lately. He couldn't get rid of her, not this soon. The only way to keep from strangling her with his bare hands was to put distance between them. He was even dreaming of killing her, not a good thing when he was sleeping in her bed. Still, she provided him with the best of alibis. He'd lavished attention on her from the moment he went to their house until he couldn't take another moment with her. Even with him putting himself out, the greedy bitch wasn't satisfied. She wanted every second of his time. Every second.

  "Luigi!" Angeline shrieked his name.

  Luigi winced at the tone. That was the tone he knew would one day set him off. Just. Not. Now. He couldn't afford a mistake, not when he was so close to his goal. From the moment he met Angeline Porcelli and conceived his plan, she'd been clingy. She would spend hours whining about how her daddy loved Aldo so much but she was just a woman and he would dismiss her as if she wasn't worth anything. Luigi poured his attention into her, but she would cry for hours and tell him how Aldo didn't have time for her anymore, now that he was married, working so hard and had a mistress. When Luigi was home, it was his sons who took his time, once more leaving her alone. Hell, if he strangled her, he'd be doing her a service, putting her out of her misery.

  "I heard you, Angeline," he said quietly, keeping his head down, texting fast as he did. "I did everything you asked. The boys know they shouldn't have been making such a fuss with so many people around. They're just upset about Aldo's death, just like you, but I had a word with them. I spent time with them and reassured them nothing would happen to you or them."

  "It will!" Angeline wailed and threw herself into his arms. Clinging.

  Luigi held her, holding his cell behind her back and finishing his order to Tomasso to come and get him. He needed to get the hell out of there fast or he wasn't going to be responsible for what he did.

  "Everyone is already looking to you, Luigi, to take Aldo's place in the family business. He was so busy. You're twice as busy. If you take his place, not only will you be gone all the time, but you'll be in danger. You know you will. And you'll put all of us in danger. I went out with you all those years ago because your family was small and no one was going to be jealous of your territory and come after you."

  He winced. That was Angeline's way of belittling him. She was a passive-aggressive fighter, slinging little arrows at him when she wasn't getting her way. But she knew better than to use his family's name for her poison. He dropped his arms abruptly and stepped back, eyeing her with anger and a cold mask.

  "You seem to forget that my brother, sister-in-law and niece were all killed, slaughtered, by someone. It was your family who stood to gain the most, and if I wasn't already dating you, I would never have believed your father when he assured me he wasn't involved in any way. Don't you ever say something like that again. Now get the fuck out of my sight." He ground out the last order from between his teeth.

  Angeline stepped back, shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I'm just so scared for you. For all of us."

  "Go, Angeline. I have business to attend to. My family business. One of my men will be picking me up soon. In the meantime, I want you out of my sight so I can forget the things you just said to me." He kept his voice ice-cold.

  Angeline had heard that tone before and she whirled and ran, sobbing. Luigi gave a sigh of relief and went to his study and firmly closed the door. She had clung to him constantly, not leaving him alone for a moment, so he'd taken to hiding in the bathrooms and outside on the grounds where she couldn't find him. Hiding in his own damned house. He despised her. She was weak. Useless. Angeline still believed he loved her because she wanted to believe it.

  She hated sex and she'd made it clear to him that she was sacrificing to have sex with him because it was her duty, and because she loved him. Once he'd known that she didn't like it - not because she didn't feel anything when she was with him, but because she thought herself saintly and to her sex was dirty - he took a perverse pleasure in showing her dirty. Making her like it. She spent a great deal of time on her knees praying for her soul after nights with him.

  Luigi rubbed at his pounding temples. Ironically, the one person who had been loyal to him, other than Arturo, he'd had killed. That bothered him. He hadn't considered that it would be so difficult, but he had almost convinced himself not to go through with it. He had known all along that Giacinta had to die. He wasn't a caring man, and he had no idea when emotion had begun to take hold of him. When he began to look forward to their talks. Their chess games. Her laughter. Just having her back in his house after long months in the States.

  Giacinta was intelligent and she was loyal to one person - Luigi. He sighed and poured himself a drink, staring sightlessly out the window. Giacinta. She was gone. The one person who brought a little joy into his relentlessly dark world. His own sons couldn't match her intelligence or her drive. She was a secret weapon he could have used against his enemies. He'd never have another like her. He hadn't wanted her dead. It was necessary.

  "Necessary," he murmured aloud, and tossed back the rest of his Scotch.

  The car arrived in record time, a good mark for Tomasso. He greeted Luigi soberly, aware of the loss of his brother-in-law. The world knew of Aldo's loss and the scandal of his wife and mistress fighting while the body lay still warm.

  "Are you all right, sir?" Tomasso asked, opening the car door for him to the back passenger seat. There was genuine concern in his voice.

  Luigi nodded curtly. For some reason the question caused his chest to ache. A great stone pressed down on him. Giacinta. There was no bringing her back. He'd have to live with his decision. Luigi settled into the backseat, prepared for the long drive back to his estate, his sanctuary by the sea. He was grateful Angeline knew nothing of it because he needed peace. Quiet. He ne
eded to come to terms with what he'd done.

  "Are you all right, Signor Luigi?" Tomasso asked again softly, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

  Luigi lifted his hand up dismissively. "Just drive. Raise the glass between us."

  He didn't feel like talking. He liked that the man hadn't asked a single question about his home, or why he had never mentioned being married. Tomasso would be a good soldier. He was strong. Intelligent. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. Luigi knew ruthless when he saw it. He knew dangerous. Tomasso was all of those things. He was also hungry for a home. Luigi would give that to him. But not now. Now he needed to grieve for his lost niece in peace.

  He had contacted Alberto the moment Aldo's widow had called Angeline hysterically. She needed them desperately and Luigi had rushed Angeline to her side. Luigi was able to see Aldo's body and the blood at the mistress's apartment. He got to witness the widow making all kinds of accusations to the mistress, casting suspicion there, but he knew Aldo's death would be ruled an accident. There was a catfight, with Aldo's widow trying to claw scars into Lydia's face. The police had seemed more concerned with that than protecting the crime scene.

  The coroner pointed out that little black spot on Aldo's finger where he'd pressed the doorbell. Around the doorbell the surface was blackened - all from an obvious short. The police told the widow what happened, that Aldo had jumped back from the electrical shock and hit his head on the fountain - the fountain Aldo had given to Lydia. It was priceless. Perfection. While chaos, screaming and weeping took place all around him, he'd stood there in silence, admiring Giacinta's work. She'd exceeded the master. Using that fountain to kill Aldo was a stroke of genius.

  She was invaluable, and he'd been forced to kill her while his useless wife was still alive, an albatross hung around his neck. It hurt. It was so unexpected that he wanted to weep. He had wept. Angeline had seen him and thought he wept for her brother. He had wept for Giacinta. He hadn't even done that for Arturo and he'd known how much he cared for his friend and bodyguard. Giacinta. He had called Alberto and told him to do it immediately because he knew he would rescind the order if it wasn't already done. He would have stopped it.

  In the week that had passed since Aldo's and then Giacinta's death, he had attended Aldo's funeral. The long procession honoring him had been a joke. What hypocrisy, the man had gone to church every Sunday and had killed men the next day without so much as flinching - but he still got a church funeral with the congregation weeping over him and the priest blessing his casket and saying prayers over his body. That night, Luigi had returned and spit on Aldo's grave, only by that time, he wished it were Angeline's grave. Because he had to play his part of loving husband and heir apparent to the Porcelli throne, he hadn't been able to pay tribute to his niece. To stand by her grave and whisper he was sorry and that he'd always keep her close.

  Giacinta. He shook his head and wished for another drink. This wasn't a limousine. He'd had the interior of the car changed to suit him. He liked having a glass panel to separate him from the driver. He'd also had the car fitted with bulletproof glass. The doors had been reinforced as well. He knew when he took over the Porcelli family there would be many who wouldn't like him bringing both territories together, so he'd prepared, but he should have added in a bar. He needed a drink... badly.

  He looked through the glass partition to the back of Tomasso's head. He was in his car, driving to the place he thought of as home. Not the house he shared with Angeline and their sons, but the home he'd made for Giacinta. How was it that he'd brought three boys into the world, male children, and none of them had his traits, but Giacinta, a product of his brother and his wife, was everything she should be?

  He pressed his fingertips to his temples. He had to quit thinking about her. She had to die. He had no choice. She was too intelligent. He'd sent her to the United States when she was eighteen because he knew she was too smart to stay at home by the sea while he disappeared for weeks at a time - necessary to maintain his life with Angeline and the boys. Once she knew he had a wife, and who his wife was, she would start putting the pieces of the puzzle together and figure it out. She would know what he'd done.

  Luigi nearly groaned aloud. That would almost be worse than killing her. He never wanted her to know the truth. He'd made the right decision, but damn, it hurt. Now he had to rebuild, find good soldiers, men who could be loyal and smart, men he could count on. He looked at Tomasso again. He needed more like him. Men who wouldn't hesitate to pull a trigger. Men who were hungry to have a family.

  He'd told Alberto to make it fast. To make certain she didn't suffer. To bury her on the property where Luigi would care for her. Alberto had disappeared like he would after he took care of business, but when he returned, Luigi was going to ask a lot of questions, make certain he had carried out his orders to the letter. He didn't want to think Giacinta had suffered.

  The car jerked hard, pulling to the right. He gripped the door handle and glared through the glass at Tomasso. Tomasso overcorrected, fighting the car. Obviously something was wrong. Something seemed to have gone wrong with the steering. The car jerked again toward the right. Luigi's heart accelerated as Tomasso fought that pull. Fought to keep them on the narrow, winding road above the cliff.

  The jerk came again, this one much more pronounced, and Luigi's seat belt tightened almost to the point of pain, cutting into his flesh. Then there was the sound of squealing brakes, the car fishtailed and then slid. More sliding... The sensation was terrible. Slow motion. Off the road. Into the air. Soaring.

  Luigi saw the sea rushing at them and had time enough to grip the door. His mind had gone momentarily numb. He couldn't think what to do, but he knew they were going to impact with the wide extensive turquoise blue surface.

  The car hit the water hard, jarring him. It began to slowly sink beneath the surface. He gasped, his mind finally kicking into gear, realizing he was going to drown if he didn't get out of the car. The accident had happened so fast. One moment he was thinking of her - his beautiful niece - and the next he was fighting for his life.

  He couldn't get the seat belt to loosen. He fought it, but there was no give. The woven strip was so tight he couldn't get to his knife, just inside his jacket. He looked through the pane of glass to Tomasso. The man was alive, and already on the move. He'd rolled down his window and was making his way out. Luigi could see his legs as they slipped through the car to the water outside.

  Relief swept through him. Tomasso would get him out. He tried the seat belt again, but it refused to loosen. The car was filling with water as it sank. Already, the roof was underwater, the car sinking to the bottom as the sea tried to claim them. He had to get out. Soon the interior would be completely filled. Where was Tomasso?

  He looked out his window when he caught a glimpse of movement. He froze. Shocked. Tomasso was there. Treading water. Holding on to the side of the car with his gloved hands. Gloved hands. Even as he watched the man, Tomasso reached up and tore off his hair and face. He stuffed both inside a bag he held.

  Luigi's heart nearly stopped. He could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. Tomasso had been in his home a month. Over a month. Nearly two. And this? An assassin. There were rumors of course. There always were in his line of business. Even among hit men there were some considered the elite. Luigi knew he was looking at one of those men. Tomasso - or whoever he was - made no move to rise to the surface or swim away. He just stayed there, suspended outside of the car, watching dispassionately as it filled. Making certain of the kill.

  Luigi cursed him, pounded on the glass, but he knew no matter what he said or did, there would be no mercy from this man. No amount of pleading. No bribery. There was no way to stop one of the elite. Luigi spat at him. Furious. Terrified. He'd never considered this could happen to him so fast. He tried for his knife again. Then his gun. The gun was tucked into his waistband at his back. There was no hope of getting to it.

  There was movement in the water behind the
assassin and for one moment, hope burst through Luigi. A woman swam up next to Tomasso, dressed in a bathing suit and tank. She carried a second tank with her. Tomasso took it and shrugged into the webbing, shoving the regulator into his mouth and then strapped the weight belt around his waist. There was no hurry in the movements, and Tomasso never looked away from Luigi. Just waiting.

  Only then did the woman turn toward him. Stared right at him. His heart stuttered in his chest. Giacinta. Staring at him. Right. Through. The window.

  Alive. She was real, not a figment of his imagination. Giacinta was alive. She knew what he'd done. All of it. He could see the knowledge on her face in spite of the mask she wore over her eyes. There was pain there. Regret. Sorrow. She had loved him - genuinely loved him, and that was more than he felt from any other living soul. He'd ordered the death of her parents. He'd ordered her death.

  Involuntarily, he reached out to her. Pressed his hand to the window as the water closed over his head. She reached out to him but before her hand could touch the window, Tomasso circled her waist with his arm and caught her wrist in his other hand, preventing her from touching the car.

  Panic hit first, panic so intense and overwhelming that he began to fight. To thrash. Kick his legs. He was frantic to get out of the tight seat belt that held him pinned to the seat. He tipped his head up, trying to get to the surface even though he knew it was impossible.