My black Audi A8 loaner is made for the narrow mountain roads. I feel fucking alive and mutter, “Sorry, you won’t like it,” to Tatiana before I turn on “No Lives Matter” by Body Count and crank the volume to door-shaking heights.
The twelve cylinders roar through the curves, making us whizz in and out of the traffic. My concentration hones in on the velocity, until it’s all it is: this moment, the temporary bliss thundering through me, the adrenaline of yet another win giving me a head rush.
Outsmarted everyone. Again.
Tatiana doesn’t move at my side. In my peripheral, her arm still rests on the mid console. It’s not lost on me that she’s cool after everything she witnessed, after everything we’ve been through.
Hell, Tatiana should be scared of me right now, with the insanity of this music and the speed I’m pushing. I risk a full glance. Her eyes are calmly on the road. I think she’s actually tapping the rhythm with a finger. Christ, she’s perfection.
My phone breaks through the drums. I accept.
“Isaias. Thank God you picked up.”
“Gabriela?” I shout. “Where the fuck are you?”
“In Venice. Listen, I can’t talk long.” Her voice lowers to a hissed whisper. “They’re right here. They don’t know I’m calling you, and—”
A gruff curse in Italian. A man’s voice. Gabriela’s “No, per favore!” is a desperate howl. The phone smacks against something, making a crunching noise, and then she’s gone.
She’s fucking gone!
“No.” I redial. It goes straight to voicemail.
I call Rocco, who picks up immediately. “Sir, I was about to call you.”
“What do you know?”
“Just got off the phone with Sebastian Nero. Gabriela recognized them at the airport and disappeared before they could get to her. Apparently, she headed straight toward Testaprati Island, and the Santa Colombini were waiting for her.”
No. No, no, no.
“Maybe she didn’t think straight,” he suggests. “She might have headed into Santa Colombini territory to shake off the Neros.”
At this speed, I’ll be out of the canyons in five minutes. Five minutes is too long when people you love are in extreme danger. What was Gabriela’s deal? Was she planning on hitting up Ariadna first thing?
Sure, the last time I saw Gabriela, she talked about introducing herself to Ariadna, but that was before the war started. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to consider that now, right?
Amedeo Santa Colombini is an old fox; if anyone can connect our dots, it’s the head of the entire Santa Colombini organization. Neither his daughter or I ever doubted that he’d sacrifice his own blood for la famiglia. What a paradox it is that Ariadna is still alive thanks to her family being kept in the dark. Gabriela’s slip-up better not have changed that.
“Does Il Lince know?” I ask.
“No, sir. I wanted to talk with you first.”
“Call him, and don’t hold back. Just tell him all the details. I need him to get me on a private jet to Venice asap.”
“Yes, sir, I’m on it.”
“Give Felix a call too, check on his guys. He should have a few in Venice by now.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“I don’t have time to deal with McRoy’s finicky ass, so I’ll leave that to you. I have someone he needs to drive to my father’s bunker until I’m back.”
The road takes an abrupt turn. I throw the wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding a jagged boulder. Airborne, Tatiana and I land hard in our seats before I regain control of the car. I flick my eyes to her. Crystal-clears pierce me with annoyance, either because of my driving or because she understands she’s the someone I’m locking away.
“Do whatever you can to stay in touch with the Neros and Felix so Gabriela’s trail doesn’t go cold. I don’t want her six feet under. Got it?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“But if as much as a single hair on Ariadna Santa Colombini’s head is in disarray, I swear to you that I’ll be on a rampage this country hasn’t seen since the Depression.”
Tatiana gasps, and that—that is how I catch my mistake. Rocco doesn’t even breathe on the other end.
“I’m warning you, Rocco. Don’t even—”
“Boss! I swear to you, I would never. On my family, I swear it. I do.”
“Not to a single soul.”
“Never. Okay. I’m going to get off the phone, now,” he says. “Got some calls to make.”
“Yeah.”
I’m a wolf in a cage at the safe house in Malibu. Bully’s back. Tatiana is here. Fritz has returned too, and McRoy and Rocco both keep calling with updates. It’s nine p.m., and I still have no news on a departure time.
It’s dangerous to feel my kind of uproar. You can’t steer your world properly this way. “So yes, I do give a shit when he takes aim at every innocent person I love,” I still bark at Rocco, because he knows—he knows, and— “This is Gabriela we’re talking about. And it’s fucking Ariadna. Get it?”
“Sir, I totally get it. I’m sorry.”
Behind me, Tatiana stands. She clacks quietly out of the room.
My father works too slowly. I need that jet AS-fucking-AP. Last news I got was that Patrick, the law-school boyfriend, had been found at the docks with a bloody gash at the back of his head. They could be slicing my cousin open, trading her—who knows what’s happening to her right now.
I hang up midsentence and blow air into my fist like I’m cold. I scrunch my eyes shut, absently registering the murmured conversation in the front rooms and the click of the door.
That reminds me; McRoy hasn’t confirmed Tatiana’s pickup time yet. I call him and let two fingers of whiskey into a glass. I’m dropping ice into it as he picks up.
“Sir, you want me down there tonight?” he asks.
“I do.” I’d love to have Tatiana banish a smidgen of darkness with me until the morning, but Il Lince’s people could call me with travel news at any moment, and I’m not going to scramble to get her to safety last minute.
“I’ll pick her up within the hour.”
I roll the burning liquid in my mouth while I stand and walk to the hallway. I feel better as it trickles past my esophagus, releasing tension with each inch it touches.
I feel a fuck-load worse when I discover that Tatiana’s loaner is gone.
“You let her go?” I ram my fist into the wall an inch from Fritz’ head. “What the hell?”
He blinks. “You sent her out for a new throwaway, sir.”
“Throwaway? A new throwaway! Why would I send her out for a throwaway and with the Santa Colombini on our tail?”
Bully stands from his lax position in the stairway, a bag of peanut shells flopping open on the step he’s on. “Told you it was odd, man.”
I get in Fritz’ car, a fifteen-year-old Ford Escape with a bad paint job, and haul ass after Tatiana. Once you’re back on the scene, it’s a matter of instinct to slap trackers on people, and after Tatiana’s last disappearance, I got all vehicles taken care of.
She drives toward Hollywood, then the Miracle Mile. She pulls up the cemented driveway of a two-story Normandie-style house with a massive oak door set into a turret. Surreptitiously, she glances around her. I’m parked on the street half a block down, and if you grow up mafia, you’re good at hiding.
Tatiana walks up to the turret and knocks on the door. The porch light must make her uncomfortable, because she hunches forward a little, crossing her arms. Someone lets her in on the second series of raps against wood.
The well-lit front yard has a small balcony, but the backyard is dark, so I slip onto its lawn and peer in through the living-room windows. The space is adorned with what looks like ecclesiastic antiques.
Tatiana enters, shown in by a man who’s probably in his early fifties. She smiles, tilting her head sweetly. She grows serious when the man speaks, explaining with urgency and intent. Tatiana agrees with whatever his assessment is.
A large office desk occupies the right side of the living room, and they move toward it. My ice queen tucks a stray lock behind an ear before she bends with him, reading from his laptop screen. Oh fuck, whatever they’re looking at, they agree—again—and Tatiana sets her you-can-trust-me look on him, adding words to it.
It takes forever for him to lead my woman back to the front exit.
When she leaves, I follow, half a block behind. Thankfully, L.A. traffic rarely sleeps, so cars weave in and out between us through the suburbs until we’re on the road to Malibu. A few miles from the safe house, she stops at a market. I curve behind it and wait for her to come out. Then, we drive again, until she parks in our driveway.
I get out behind her. Stuff my hands in my pockets while I take my time sauntering forward. “I’ll be researching the guy you just visited, so you might as well be up front,” I say, mixing sex and menace in the same sentence.
“Oh sure. That was archbishop Ronstedt of Flandern. So you just stalked me to his house and back. Did you tap me in there too?” She lifts her shoulders like she’s cold.
I crowd her against the door, pushing my thigh in between hers. “I wish. Hmm, beautiful Tatiana of the Valley. Since the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted to unravel your secrets. Just, I’m starting to think it’s not simply for my pleasure I need to unravel you. I’m beginning to wonder if my family depends on it.”
She inhales, the sound sharp enough to border on a gasp. If it were, she’d be afraid, a thought that worries me as much as it turns me on. I press myself against her, rubbing our bodies together.
“I was visiting with what you would call the capo of the catholic church in Los Angeles. Is that worrisome to my little mafia son?” She tilts her head, any fissure in her feline calm gone.
“And why would a nun, a nun who’s not even a novice, with a degree in forensic science, visit the head of the catholic church in Los Angeles?” I ask it so quietly, my breath touches her cheek before I kiss her there, skimming deceptive love up to her earlobe. Tatiana is not unaffected. Goosebumps rise at my unexpected caress.
“Can we go inside?”
I nod curtly. Open the door and walk her in, my front against her back.
“Tatiana!” Fritz oozes relief. “You found her, sir?”
“I did.”
“McRoy’s here for her.”
“All right. Give him a ten-minute warning,” I say and wave Tatiana ahead of me up the stairs.
She saunters before me, taking her time. Halfway up, she leans against the banister and shoots me a half-lidded gaze that stirs my cock. Oh, she’s doing it on purpose, but she’s damn wrong if she thinks she can derail me.
In our room, she plops to her butt at the edge of the bed, bouncing a little. She angles her head to the side, suddenly playful. “What’s the plan, Master? Are you going to press all kinds of info out of me, now, then hide me in your daddy’s bunker?”
I meet her stare with no humor at all. “Yes. That’s the plan. And I’m doing it for your safety. You mean something to me, and I don’t want you susceptible to harm while I fix the mess in Italy.”
“I should feel honored, Master di Nascimbeni, but you see, I have my own plan.”
“You do, now, do you?” She’s damn cute when her irises sparkle with purpose the way they do right now. “And what is that plan?”
“I’m going to Italy. I have a meeting there on behalf of Bishop Ronstedt. Since you’re going by private jet, I’m assuming you’ll have room for me too?” She juts her lip out. “I promise I won’t take up too much space. Worst case, I’ll sit on your lap. I’ll be quiet. Only squirm if it gets… bulky.”
I bend down so I can slide my hands up her thighs. She tenses at first but hides it quickly. “Oh, no, you aren’t. See, there’s nothing for you in Venice. Anything your clerical daddy figure has asked you to do, you’ll simply have to take off the table.”
“And what would be my reason for that?” she purrs back. “That my mafia daddy figure has decided to kidnap me and put me away? I don’t think that will fly. And here’s the thing, baby.” She leans forward, her long brassy lengths sliding between us and tickling me.
“You’re not the only one following people. I’ve got a tracker—for my safety. And if I don’t go where I’ve agreed to go, my employers will be following me. You see a mystery in me, and I assure you, you’re not wrong. Mr. di Nascimbeni junior: there’s a lot more to me than you see, and the apparatus running what I’m a part of is a tad bigger than your little mafia vendetta.”
She lets out a small sigh as she lowers to the bed on her back. Slowly unbuttoning her shirt, she reveals creamy skin that makes me swallow. “But one thing at a time.”
“Oh Tatiana, Tatiana,” I whisper, grabbing her by the waist and dumping her higher up on the bed. “You think it’s so easy? You think you can tell me what’s happening next, that you can decide where you’re going and what you’re doing?”
I kneel around her, pressing her wrists into the mattress, before I begin to suck on her lips. She arches under me, wiggling to get free, but she’s not dumb enough to complain out loud.
“I know you’ve been seducing me. You’ve done a damn good job of it too.” I press her into the bed with the weight of my body. The air gushes out of her lungs, and I smile when her eyes finally widen; that, right there, is the concern she needs to feel. Tatiana has spent too much time feeling comfortable in my presence. “I think you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.”
I take her mouth again, forcing my tongue inside it. I groan as I rub myself over her in a deep, long, needy wave. Her lips slide apart, neck arching. She wants to speak, but she can’t think of what to say. That’s fear-mixed desire right there.
“You have no idea what I can do to you,” I growl as I rip the rest of her shirt open. Her bra doesn’t lock in the front, but when you’re about to OD on testosterone, that’s not an obstacle. She squeals when I rip the thing apart, the entrails of black lace flapping to the side of quivering breasts.
“Be careful,” she whispers.
I don’t answer. I flip her up from the mattress, wringing the sleeves of her shirt to her back. When you don’t have rope, it’s a good alternative, and in seconds, I’ve got her arms tied.
“What are you doing?”
The panic in her voice makes me harder.
“Let me go immediately,” she grits out. Her chest heaves, and if stares could kill…?
“Do you remember what you told me outside the St. Tatiana the night I followed you?” I drag her skirt down her legs, and my rough touch leaves pink streaks along her skin. What a beautiful sight.
“Whatever I said, it was true,” she pants. If I’m all testosterone right now, she’s all adrenaline. I fucking feel her tremble beneath me, and it’s perfect.
“You thought I was trying to scare you.” I kiss her again. She jerks to the side, not wanting to enjoy it, but lust already coats the fear in her eyes.
“You were!”
“You’re right, bella. I was trying to scare you, and I thought you’d learned your lesson. But see, if you play with fire and you don’t treat that fire right, it’s going to burn”—I peck her lips—“the shit”—I peck her again—“out of you.”
She’s panting in earnest, now, her legs tensing against me while I try to spread them. The little spitfire is strong. She gets one in against my groin, causing me to oomph.
“You’ll pay for that,” I murmur.
I kick my pants off and watch her squirm to get to her feet with that small black triangle as a traffic light in front of me. I pull my belt out of the loops. Watch her stare sink to it and back to my eyes. I know what she’s thinking. She thinks I’m going to whip her with it.
“You can’t get out of here, you know.”
Tatiana is on her feet at the side of the bed, arms tied behind her back and her entire alabaster-smooth body heaving with fear and desire.
I hit my palm with the belt. Slip out of my t-shirt. She retreats toward the window, not the door. Smart girl. She wouldn’t get far with three of my people at the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re not that cruel,” she whispers.
I don’t answer. I press her flush against the wall with my bare chest, the frame of a mirror stabbing between her shoulder blades. She’s uncomfortable, as she should be. It will never be comfortable to disobey Isaias di Nascimbeni.
I use my mouth on her. Crowd her with my body. She jolts, letting out that involuntary whimper I crave when I slap the belt into my palm. I do it so hard I feel the sting myself. It skyrockets my lust, my anger, and my fucking need for her.
“You know nothing about me, and that’s okay. The one thing you need to know, I’ll reveal right this minute: when I tell you to do something”—I jostle her up on my hips—“you do it.”
Her body tips to the side, but I straighten her, pressing her hard against the mirror again. She whimpers, those beautiful eyes full of worry, free of obstinacy at last. I hoist her up just the last inch I need, and press inside her in one hard jab until I’m in to the hilt.
I groan out my relief, my eyes shutting briefly at the incredible sensation. This isn’t about her pleasure. It’s about domination, about making sure she’ll never take chances on something that can put her in danger again.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I growl. She opens her mouth to respond, but I press my fingers around her throat and start to fuck her. Hard, fast, and raw, I slam us into the wall with each thrust. Her pants become little squeals.
“Isaias, they’ll hear us.”
“Really? That’s what you’re worrying about right now?” The belt lands on the floor behind me. My punishment is this, hard, fast, more. “You’re never disobeying me again.”
Tatiana’s squeals become screams. “Please!”
I rock her so fast, we’re vibrating. Her screams are constant, now. I stop to rip her arms free of the binding. “If you try to get away before I’m done with you, I’ll fling you on the bed and take your ass.”
She throws her arms around me. Her knees fly up, around my waist, and I back her to the bed and fall on top of her.
“You. Are so fucking difficult.”
I get no answer, just heaving breath against my ear while I pound her.
“You. Need to remain safe. I can’t have you do whatever you want. Fuck that.”
She tenses around me, bowing off the sheets, fingers clawing around my shoulders and keeping me as deep inside of her as she can. “Crap! I’m…”
“Take that.” I spurt inside of her, giant globs of you’re-mine-and-don’t-ever-forget it.
I don’t roll off her afterward, and she doesn’t ask me to. Fear smells differently, and the warm sugar scent of her sweat has a lingering trace of it. We lie here, staring at each other. I can’t stop staring, watching her look deep into my eyes. She’s not afraid of me anymore. No, she’s sated and still, her demons, the ones wanting to run away from me and do their own thing, have been quieted.
“You know, you might think you have it all figured out. That you can live separately from what’s going on in my life, but that’s not the case anymore. Your life is now a part of mine. That happened the minute I saw you, and whatever you do, only death can change that.”
She wants to shake her head and disagree beneath me, but she’s smarter than that. Only the slight change in her gaze gives her away. What can she do when I’m still deep inside of her, keeping my life-givers in her uterus? Swim, soldiers. Fight those birth control pills.
I lay my head down to the side of hers. She turns her face toward me, and we keep staring at each other. Downstairs, McRoy is getting antsy. He’s pacing like he always does when he’s on an incomplete mission.
“Baby,” she murmurs. The studious seduction she used on me earlier isn’t there anymore when she continues, “I know. I feel it too. It’s you and me. We’re in each other’s lives. We can’t live separately from each other. Which is why I need to come with you to Italy.”
Alarm bells ring at her words. She’s looking at it from a side I haven’t considered. I don’t like it.
“No, Tatiana. This is the only exception. You have to stay here with my family, be safe until I’ve sorted things out. Okay? I can’t have you on the loose too, ready for them to pick like fruit.”
“No, Isaias. I need to be there with you. Put yourself in my shoes: what if you were the one forced to stay behind? Would you not try to find a way to get there, to be at my side? Wouldn’t you want to help?”
“Of course, but that’s different.”
“I need to go there.” She thinks before she continues, unsure of how much she should say. “I have a message for the Vatican. It... can change the lives of a lot of unfortunate people.”
I frown, sitting up on my elbow to watch her. “What are you talking about?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll tell you everything on the plane.”
“I can’t let you. I can’t. As much as I’d love to have you with me,” I admit. Yes, there’s a big egoistic need in me to have her by my side.
Tatiana sits up too. With our bodies still joined, our torsos slide apart enough for both of us to have an edge as we assess each other. “I promise you this right here, Isaias: if you don’t let me come along voluntarily, I will find a way out of your father’s bunker. The people I work for are—”
“Not the Orden of St. Catherine,” I finish the obvious.
“No. And they’re very, very resourceful. Your famiglia is not what they’re after. They’re after much bigger fish, and I’d hate for the Nascimbeni clan to end up as casualties, especially since I’m in deep myself.” She shrugs under me. “I never planned this, and it’s damn impractical to have fallen in love with you.”