I forbade Tatiana to leave the house. Was it to spite me that she did it anyway?
“Why didn’t you ask my permission to let her out?” I cross my arms, fuming at the two men Il Lince has stationed at my house.
The eldest has been with my father since I was little. Now, he lifts his hands, waving his cigarette in apology. “Cucciolo, we didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to leave.”
“Did you think it was a good idea for anyone to leave this house, with the Santa Colombini hungry for retaliation and Mobespierre Sanguine thirsty for women?”
“But Cucciolo, she—”
“And stop calling me Cucciolo. I’m not Il Lince, much less his lynx cub.”
“Sir.” He dips his head in compliance, furrowed knuckles clenching the butt of his gun. “We only mean it as a tribute.”
“Where did she go?” I bark. Not that he’d know. I rake through my hair. “Did you at least see the direction?”
“There’re only two ways from here…”
“I’m aware: into the mountains or to the Valley.”
“Yes, sir. I think she drove into the mountains. Maybe taking the canyon down to the Pacific Coast Highway?” he suggests, eyes lighting up with hope.
“When did she leave?”
“Around six, sir.”
Tatiana seemed fine while the doctor was here. I showed her a guest room, the pink one, because like an idiot I figured she’d enjoy it with the view of the backyard and the canyon below. She even accepted a kiss before she closed the door to her room.
Fucking smart of her to walk right out the front door though, instead of jumping out the window. They’d have stopped her if she did.
“Wait a minute.” I feel my face scrunch up with misgivings. “She didn’t have a car at the house. How did she get away?”
He’s blushing. Wow, a seasoned old associate is literally blushing. This is not a good sign. “How?”
“She… was picked up. She walked to the gate, and—I guess she called some friends?”
Jesus Christ.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now,” I mutter, haphazardly dumping sugar into my coffee while glaring him down.
“You’re… not Il Lince… or Il Cucciolo?”
“Fuck you, Romano.” I leave him there and stalk to my office. I call Tatiana first, knowing she won’t pick up. Then, I tell McRoy to work from Lucid today. Next, I start making arrangements to get Rain out of my hair. We now know that she’s from a rich family in Mumbai, India, and that she was plucked from a club a month ago.
My people are on it. I don’t want her around for a minute longer than she needs to be. Even with the tracker destroyed, she’s in danger of being found, and I need to get on with my own business. I’ve got money to make, a cross-promo in the making.
An hour in, I’ve refilled my coffee twice. Ten phone calls down, and I’m jittery with caffeine but feel more settled in terms of my affairs. The filming of Sexman is on schedule, and all is quiet at the studio. I’ve got Rain scheduled to fly to India by jet, and fake papers are being made as we speak. I’ll only have to keep her here for another twenty-four hours.
Romano appears in the doorway again, small eyes peering. “Sir?”
The revised Clown Irruption contract just shot into my email inbox. I’m curious about their comments.
“What is it?”
“The girl’s awake. You wanted me to inform you when she got up? She opened the door to her room, but when she saw Bully, she freaked out and ran back in again.”
Bully. He’s one of Il Lince’s younger guys, mid-twenties. Hulk-sized and simple-minded, he’s lethal to the enemy but sweet as a sleepy bear around la famiglia.
“I’ll handle it.” Pressing my palms against the desk, I stand and walk through the hallway toward the guestrooms. I knock on her door. “Rain. It’s me, Isaias.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Rain. Listen. I’ve got great news for you.”
The door clicks open slowly, showing one fearful eye through the crack.
I take a step back and smile a little, showing my empty hands. I’m not packing, see? “It’s just me.”
She doesn’t object when I push the door open and walk in. “Did you sleep well?”
Rain bobs her head.
“How are your stitches?”
“They don’t hurt very much.”
“That’s good.” I exhale and look her over. There is a lightness to her now that wasn’t there last night. “So. Are you ready for the good news?”
“Yes… please.”
“You’re leaving the U.S. tomorrow night.”
Panic rears in her gaze again, but I jut a palm out against her reaction. “I’m sending you to Mumbai, via private jet. One of my girls will keep you company on the way there, and she won’t leave you until you’re safe in your family’s arms. Which brings me to my question. Would you like to call home?”
Rain lets out a wracked sob, shoulders hunching as she cradles her face in her hands. She’s trying to talk, mumble out her gratitude, but the exact words are hard to make out.
“I can’t hear you?” I say softly, smiling so she understands I’m teasing her. When she giggles through the tears bathing her face, the day suddenly feels a lot better.
Of course, Tatiana isn’t at work. With the police flooding every inch of it, packing shit in sample bags, I’m sure, and taking notes, the church has been shut down.
Bruno’s in lockdown with the rest of the guys who were in on last night’s action, while Moroder’s in for questioning. Ma’s my source to this information, because Il Fucking Lince is busy re-strategizing. I laugh silently at that, because how do you strategize when your enemy consists of Neanderthals?
McRoy calls me from the city of Ventura. “Boss?”
“Yeah. Did you find her?”
“No, the nuns haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.” He sniffs. “If you don’t mind me saying so, seems to me she doesn’t want to be found, and if a woman doesn’t want to be found, a guy’s better off spending his energy elsewhere.”
“Thanks for the insight. When are they picking up Rain?”
“At four. We’ve been given an opening to fly out at six fifteen from the Hollywood Burbank Airport.”
“Good.” That’s in three hours. The St. Tatiana confrontation’s blown up on the news, so we have to lay low for now, and with the cops and feds busy in the Valley, I doubt anyone will be looking for me in Hillside.
My alarm system sets off, blaring through the house. White lights erupt above the front door, the upper corners of the living room, and the kitchen. Which means they’re blinking in all rooms—which means security breach.
Bully and Romano run to the front rooms and drop to their knees, crawling up to the windows. I see it fine from where I stand, the black vehicle slamming against the front gates over and over, backing up and trying again. That’s not going to happen. The beams are reinforced steel for a reason. No way they’ll budge.
Three men jump out. They scan the wilderness, quickly realizing mine’s the only house on this side, I’m sure. Then, they fire off round after round against the intercom. Idiots. One guy shifts his aim at the frame of the gate, blasting off granite. Still not happening; the granite’s fortified too.
“Romano, backdoor,” I bark. “Take the right side around, and the shrubbery’ll hide you.”
He pumps a fist in the air, eyes alight, and it’s the reason why he’s been with my father for thirty years. He disappears down to the ground level, the door slamming on his exit.
My safe’s in a cupboard next to the microwave. All I have to do is open the cabinet, and it’s there. It buzzes open to my warm fingerprints.
I pull my Glock out for the second time in twenty-four hours. Adrenaline courses through me as I bolt to the window. I bark at Bully to shove it open in a small courtesy to a home that’s about to get demolished. It slices through me how much I’d rather be punishing Belen or selecting still-shots with Gianni.
The fuckers are fast. I can’t believe how quickly they throw themselves over the fence. Bully snipes one of them. The guy’s halfway to my front door before he drops, and as the second guy rounds the left corner—not the right one where Romano is—my phone rings. I hurl it against the wall.
Rain screams. No way anyone’s in her room yet, but the sound of her anguish curdles my blood. There’s fucking nothing more intense than petrified females. It’s in your DNA to do something about it.
“Get the guy in the red shirt,” I shout to Bully, who takes aim and starts blasting my front yard with his AK-47, ripping up a trail behind the third guy. I rush to the windows on the left, scanning the side yard for the grey shirt. I can’t see him. Bet he’s running along the wall.
Glass panes splinter in the front where Bully is. Guess red-shirt has made it that far. I need to get downstairs for a better view. Maybe I can get grey-shirt from the backdoor before he gets inside.
I leap to the stairs, taking them three at a time. The backdoor is wide open. Rain screams again, and this time she doesn’t stop. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. He’s inside, isn’t he? I bolt back, and at the end of the hallway, her screams intensify.
“No, no, please, no! Let me go.”
I get to her door and watch grey-shirt lock his arm around her throat from behind until he’s choked her scream. Eyes popping with terror, she pleads with me without words. Shit! If I can’t save her, that look will haunt me forever.
I leap forward to wrangle her out of his grip, but he presses his gun against the side of her head. “Don’t even think about it. She’s worth a hell of a lot of money to us, but if you make this difficult, I’ve got standing orders to eliminate her.” He cocks his gun.
“What’s it gonna be, Isaias di Nascimbeni?” he mocks when I relax my stance. “You wanna keep her here—bleeding out in your house, or you want her alive and kicking with her new owner?”
She shakes her head, body trembling, but he jerks her still, grin widening. Idly, I notice one of his front teeth. The tip of it is a poorly made lump of gold.
My heart beats in my throat. I breathe heavily, in need of time I don’t have. Smalltalk. “How did you find her?”
“She had a tracker—as you clearly know by now.”
“Right, we removed it.”
“You sure did. T’was a little late by then, wasn’t it?”
It’s two o’clock. A few hours later, and she’d have been on her way.
“Now”—he jostles her toward me and the door—“it’s been fun, but we gotta get going.”
The shooting has stopped in the front rooms. “Mr. Nascimbeni?” Bully roars. “Are you okay?”
I shut my eyes, while grey-shirt chuckles. “Not the brightest bulb, huh? Don’t answer him, or I’ll be making a few modifications on our girl, here.”
“Randolfo wouldn’t be happy about that,” I mutter.
“Oh, there’s a market for that too.”
“I can’t…” Rain whispers. “I just can’t. Please kill me instead.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You know what, dude?” I say calmly. “I don’t like your game.” He doesn’t have time to answer before his head explodes in blood, pieces of meat, and bone. Rain is a heap, struggling to get out from under him as he falls, and I catch him last second. His gun goes off belatedly, hitting nothing while it sails under the bed.
“You shot him?” Rain whispers. How does this surprise her? Wasn’t she there yesterday, when everyone shot everyone?
“It was him or you,” I say, pulling her up before he lands in a bloody heap on the floor. One of his eyes is still in his skull. It looks worse than the empty socket next to it. “Look away, Rain.”
She’s a bundle of feeble limbs struggling to remain upright. She’s hyperventilating too, which isn’t good.
“Come here.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and guide her toward the hallway. “I promised you I’d get you out of here, and I keep my promises, okay?”
Her breath shivers.
“Your family is waiting for you. They were happy when you called them this morning. They’ve missed you so much, remember?”
She brushes a messy lock behind her ear. I draw back to inspect the stained skin she reveals. Thankfully, the blood isn’t hers.
“They won’t miss you much longer.” I steady her out of the room and shut the door behind us. “In”—I check my watch, purposely doing something mundane—“two hours, my people will be here to pick you up. They’re friends I’d trust with my life, and all they want is to return you to Mumbai in one piece. But before that, we’re going to get you cleaned up again, and we’re going to find you a new dress. You want to look good for your flight, don’t you?”
“Yes…” Her voice is tiny.
Bully meets us in the hallway. “You all right?” he asks me, then flashes his gaze to Rain.
“Yeah. We’re good. I’ll need cleanup in her room, though.”
“Ah. Got messy?”
“Very.”
The TV room still looks pretty good. Just a few tipped-over pieces of furniture I straighten real quick. I take my shirt off and lay it over the still-white couch so Rain can have a seat.
“All taken care of?” I send Bully a glance while I open the bar cabinet and fish out the whiskey.
“Yes, sir. But Romano didn’t make it. Il Lince’s not gonna like that.”
“Ah. That’s a goddamn pity. He was family.”
I give Rain a glass with a generous amount of whiskey. Unsure, she eyes me. I bob my head. “Take it. You need to calm your nerves. Once I can trust you on your legs, I’ll let you shower.”
Slowly, she lifts it to her lips and takes a small sip. I let a few swallows of burning comfort roll down my own throat while I pass a third glass to Bully. He grabs it greedily with both hands, the crystal disappearing in his oversized fists.
“You good here for a moment, Rain? We need to take stock of the damage.”
Rain bites her lip, eyes glossing over. She still gives me a brave thumbs-up.
“We’ll be fast,” I murmur, scanning her expression; I don’t want her to have a panic attack again in my absence. “You probably shouldn’t come along for this.”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
The front door stands ajar, and red-shirt lies facedown over the threshold, forming an efficient roadblock. I nudge him with my foot. “Dead.”
“Totally dead.”
“Do we know who he was?” I ask Bully.
“He has a half moon tattoo on his knuckles.”
“So he’s Santa Colombini. I don’t recognize his face,” I say, tilting his head to the side. “Definitely not famiglia.”
Once outside, I stare out over my shot-up front yard. Enough rounds of bullets can cause serious damage to lawns and fountains, apparently. There’s no way I’m paying for this myself. It’ll be Daddy dearest who gets this bill.
Romano sits along the left side of the house. Head tipped forward, he looks like he’s sleeping. I see no blood either, until we’ve passed him. A small wound at the side of his head is all it took. The bullet hole in the concrete behind him will have to be covered. As a matter of fact, I’ll get the whole house painted white. I don’t need any reminders of my darkest day in years.