My Hillside home has become less of a home. You do what you gotta do, though. If only it weren’t so damn inconvenient to haul everything I need into the car to hole up in my father’s safe house. He’s got safe houses in several places, but even his Malibu apartment is far from everything I need.
Rain has showered up and wears another to-the-ankles dress. I acknowledge her with the wag of two fingers as she returns to the living room. The new dress is green, and she’s a sight to feast on with her long, ink-black hair that rolls down over shoulders and breasts.
Il Lince’s cleanup crew is on the way. My father had, as expected, a meltdown of grief over Romano, but also as expected, he was back to his calculating self within minutes.
Fucking A, I need a bigger car.
“You travel like a chick, boss,” Bully says behind me, face spreading in a crooked grin as I turn my head. The grin falters when I just stare at him. “Sorry.”
“Carry the rest of the crap to your van,” I mutter. It’s four suitcases, most of which don’t contain clothes. “You’ll get it to Malibu for me.”
Rain and Aurora have become fast friends. It took a minute to find the cat after the attack, but now she’s back to purring loudly, nudging her head under Rain’s chin.
We’re running out of time. Santa Colombini came with a surprisingly small crew, and it’s odd that they didn’t factor in how Il Lince’s son would have people stationed on his property. Makes me wonder how long they’ll wait for their dead buddies to report back before they send out reinforcements.
Updates from Felix say there’s been no action in San Diego or Oceanside. Sounds like I’m the only one they’ve been after for now. A new rumble of misgivings stirs in my chest at the thought of Tatiana. No one has seen her since she left early this morning.
“Isaias. A car,” Bully alerts. I pull out my gun and take position by the window. The vehicle is small, maybe a Corolla. It’s pearly white, clean, the opposite to everything around me. Doesn’t look like any car coming from the famiglie.
Bully and I have manually pushed the front gate open—Il Lince will have to pay for rewiring too—and the car slows down enough for the driver to study the deserted Santa Colombini van on the other side of it. Then they stop to take inventory of the broken intercom.
Slowly, the Corolla rolls up and parks in front of my door. I hear her pull the handbrake before she pushes the door open, ducks out, and straightens. She looks me smack in the eye. “What happened here, Isaias di Nascimbeni? You been playing Mafia Wars again?”
I feel a small smirk growing on my face as I fold my arms over my chest. My gun points toward the sky. “What made the nun of the year honor me with her presence again? Do you know how stupid it was of you to leave this morning?”
She smirks back, ruby red lips plump and edible. “Seems like staying wasn’t all it was cracked up to be either.”
My smile fades. I uncross my arms and wave her closer, drinking in her beautiful features. She wears minimal makeup, just that smooth heart-shaped face, brass locks flowing down… over all-white business attire?
She wears white pumps too; Tatiana is a sexy as hell bundle of innocence and femininity, and for the first time today my cock hardens. I feel him twist in my pants, ready to play.
“What’s this about?” I don’t hide the hunger in my eyes as I scan her curves, perusing her from the tip of those fuck-me heels up to the perfectly coiffed waves of her hair. “Are you taking a break from the sacred life of nuns?”
She lowers her eyelids, gaze simmering on me. It matches her heels more closely than the white purity of her clothes.
“Actually, I am. The St. Tatiana doesn’t need me while it’s under restoration, and Pater Altermatt has been arrested.”
“Odd,” I say, squinting at her. “I wonder who tipped off the cops.”
“Mobsters love to squeal on each other, I’ve read.” She shrugs as her eyes go to red-shirt. We’ve tucked him against the hedge at the side of the house. “Where’s Rain?”
I jerk my head toward the door, where Rain appears, anxiously peering out. She lights up at the sight of Tatiana. My ice queen strides up to her without a word and hugs her close. I can’t take my eyes off them, gold and ink melding, slender pearly arms entwining with bronze.
I come to my senses at the sigh next to me. Apparently, I’m not the only one entranced. Bully’s in a gorilla pose, hunched forward with his eyes glued to the girls. His hands hang loose in front of him like he’s forgotten what to do with them. Oh, fuck no.
I ram an elbow into his stomach. “Enough stalling, asshole. Load up the van and we’re outta here.”
“What about the chicks?” Dude can’t stop staring. I give him a good shove to set him in motion, but he’s huge and barely rocks.
“We’re bringing them with us.”
Now he turns, gaze brightening with hope.
“They’ll be in the car with me,” I murmur.
His expression falls.
“They’ll be in Tatiana’s car with Love Child,” Tatiana says without turning.
“She’s a handful.”
“Shut up, Bully.”
My father’s Malibu safe house is a condo in a wooden apartment complex on the mountainside of PCH. It’s inconspicuous in that it’s not overtly secretive. Wildfires love the area, but Il Lince makes sure the complex always boasts full-grown vegetation that keeps it hidden from the highway.
The condo is simple but holds luxurious details my father enjoys, like a small, always-stocked fridge room and an exercise area with an adjoining Jacuzzi.
Tatiana walks in ahead of me, letting her purse dance along her thigh as she scans the place. “All white, huh?”
“It becomes you.”
She turns and lowers her lashes at me, wordlessly berating me for the easy pun. I grin.
The floor is solid rosewood, which is silly for something so rarely used. Il Lince’s main safe house is in his own backyard, a bunker built into the lawn. It’s impossible to find if you’re not led there by a Nascimbeni.
“Your father isn’t here,” Bully states the obvious.
“Correct. I don’t share living quarters with my father.”
He nods. “Yeah. I think you’d have killed each other if you did.”
“I think you’re right. Plus, Gioele’s in the bunker.” I open the wine cooler in the first-floor living room, grab a champagne, and hand it to Bully. “Automatic opener in the second drawer by the range.”
He lumbers over.
“He’s at the safe house?”
“Yup. The two of us and Il Lince in the same crammed quarters would’ve been a disaster.”
“Pardon my English, but your brother’s a little fucked up. Rock-star good looks on that kid, but whoa, he’s trouble.” He glances at me, already regretting what he said. “Sorry. I said pardon.”
“Pardon your French,” Tatiana helps.
“But it was English, though. I don’t know French.”
I meet Tatiana’s glance briefly and see humor in it. I smile, and she bites her lip. That’s a damn pretty sight.
“Anyway, I think it’s good for Gioele to be with your father a bit more. You know what I mean? He should probably be under more supervision.” Bully turns to me, eyes flickering with fear that he’s overstepped.
“You’re probably right,” I say. “Glasses are over the microwave.”
Rain reacts first. She scurries forward, eager to please. I look at her feet and find that she’s still wearing the torn sandals we saved her in. As she cautiously places four champagne flutes on the counter, I give McRoy a call. I drop to my knees and wiggle my fingers for her to lift her foot. When she obeys, I pull off her sandal and turn it upside down.
“McRoy. Send Alicia to do some shopping for me.” I wait out his affirmative. “A couple pairs of pumps, some sandals. Shiny would be good, I think.” I look up at Tatiana, because Rain stands frozen with her foot in my hand.
Tatiana says, “Yes, and dark green, possibly red, or white.”
I repeat her order. “Three to four pairs to be on the safe side, and make them a size seven and a half. If they don’t have that, probably go for an eight?” I question Rain with a stare but Tatiana is the one agreeing with me. Rain just blinks.
“Sir. If you don’t mind my asking. Felix’s men are all over Lucid Entertainment, scanning people on their way in and out and holding our newbies for extensive checkups before letting them in. How long is this going to last? I’m not sure it’s the best way to run a business. Not that I’m an expert…”
Bully fills our glasses, spilling champagne while he does. Not the nimblest man, for sure. I walk out to the front room so I can speak freely. “McRoy. My father pissed off the Santa Colombini. Mobespierre Sanguine is involved. They shot up my pad, to the point of making me have to move out and take all of my business to PCH. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The least of my problems is that my employees are being inconvenienced by too-thorough checkups.”
“Sir, right. I was just asking. And the shoes?”
“For Rain.” I wait for more questions and unbidden advice. Why am I surprised when he simply accepts?
Tatiana and Rain are crying. What the fuck is it with girls anyway? Sure, being from an Italian family, I’m used to overt displays of emotions, but—Jesus Christ.
Rain’s ride purrs in the shadows behind the condo.
“You look so beautiful!” Tatiana sobs. “Look at those shoes. They’re perfect.”
“They are.” Rain is devastated too. Champagne does crazy things to women. “I’m going to miss you,” she whimpers through her tears. “You’re an angel. If it weren’t for you and Mr. Isaias…” Her face goes a shade of red that’s visible through her deep copper tone. She’s keeping the floodgates shut, the veins on her throat bulging with the effort. I step toward her.
“Rain, you’re going to be okay. Nothing happened. No one did anything, right, not really?” I’ve waited this long to ask. Violence and invasion of personal space are one thing, forced so-called medical attention is too, but that’s not what I’m talking about, and she instantly understands.
“They didn’t.” Her answer is a whispered sigh, the tip of an iceberg, of a cry that could erupt.
“They didn’t because they wanted to get more money for you.” Tatiana smiles through her tears, and despite everything Rain has been through, despite the horror Tatiana implies, her face brightens.
They giggle. They hug. They cry even more.
I stand back, and behind me, Bully cusses quietly. I’m his brother right now, wanting to do the same.
My pickup crew buzzes their window down, sending me a pointed stare. I bob my head once.
“Rain.”
She sniffles, instantly lifting her eyes to me.
“You need to catch your flight. Mama and Papa Kapoor are waiting for you.” My smile feels crooked when she jumps me, hugging me without restriction and complete lack of fear for the first time.
Thank you. She doesn’t say it as much as she breathes it.
Night falls black outside our Malibu glass panes. Tatiana is still here, fuck-me heels on the rug beneath us and small shiny-nailed feet curling around the edge of the coffee table as she studies the flat screen.
I flip channels at the speed of light. I’m not interested in anything on there. The only thing holding my curiosity right now is why she came back. Not once did she oppose the idea of coming to Malibu with us either.
I’ve instructed Bully and the new guy, Fritz, that Tatiana ain’t going anywhere tonight. They’re well aware I’ll be holding them personally responsible if she does. They’re also well aware that it won’t be pretty if I do.
Fritz takes his job seriously. He’s German, as big as Bully, with thick, frayed hair the color of baby carrots. An oddball from my father’s new ranks, the few words he says are heavily accented but understandable. It’s hard to screw up “roger that” and “consider it done,” I guess.
The man stands on self-appointed guard by the door. Face inscrutable, without a single muscle twitching, he waits with the solemnity of a president’s bodyguard.
Bully has found a comfy seat on the L-shape. He’s on the other side of Tatiana, snapping and cracking open peanuts, then chomping them down like they’re his last meal. On request from Tatiana, he cautiously keeps the mess inside a big glass bowl she’s handed him. I like how she’s taken on the mom role.
“You’re making me dizzy.” Eyes on the screen, where the programming blurs from one channel to the other, Tatiana sinks her eyelids in a slow, sexy blink. Then, she lifts the glass of merlot to her lips.
“You sure it’s not the wine?”
She looks up only to roll her eyes. “Was that your father on the phone?”
“Yep. They raided a warehouse at the harbor.”
“Oh, did they find the rest of the girls?”
“No, he thinks they’ve moved them. This was retaliation for Romano. He got Randolfo’s right hand.”
She shakes her head. “And so it continues.”
“Yes. On and on.” The Santa Colombini have already shown how they have no scruples about going straight to the heart of the Nascimbeni family. Gabriela’s supposed to get on a plane to Italy tomorrow. She’ll be landing smack in Santa Colombini territory before she moves into Nascimbeni arms. Now that Rain is on her way, I see it with crystal clarity; Gabriela can’t go.
“Gotta make a call,” I mutter and get up.
“He always does this, huh?” Tatiana asks Bully rhetorically. She gets a mumbled affirmative from him. Salivating openly, he’s busy trying to crack two peanut shells open with his teeth at once.
“Where am I sleeping?” she calls after me.
“Third floor to the right. Master bed.”
She doesn’t reply. She won’t go for it, of course, but it’s a damn nice thought. I could spread her out on that bed. I’d start by eating out her surely sweet pussy. After everything I’d do to her, she’d be so exhausted she’d only be sneaking out in her dreams.
My cousin picks up.
“Gabriela?”
“Isaias. Are you okay? Uncle told me what happened.”
“Yeah, it was ‘a bloody mess’ as they say.” I chuckle humorlessly.
“I’m sorry. You should’ve stayed out of it.”
“I know. Got sucked in, I guess.” I shrug. “Are you at the bunker?”
“Yeah, until tomorrow morning. Your dad got Patrick sent back to San Francisco before the first whiff of blood hit us.” She growls a little. “I hate your father tonight.”
“Gabriela.” She hears my sadness for her. Once family, always family. We both know it’s impossible to escape the Nascimbeni ripples. At best, we stay out of our famiglia’s maelstrom.
“I know.” She swallows audibly. “But on a happy note, I’m off to Italy tomorrow!”
“About that…”