His Salvation: Cavalieri Della Morte

by Marta, Claire

  “Wait. Cup your tits,” I instruct, an idea hitting me.

  Evelyn pauses in the act of shrugging into the shirt. “Excuse me?”

  “Hold them up.” I find my phone in the pocket of my jacket. I owe Gawain and Bors a pic in our contest. My captive’s breasts are the loveliest I’ve seen. Perfectly round, just enough of a handful to enjoy and tipped with dusky nipples.

  “Why?”

  “Petal, you’re going to have to stop questioning and just obey when I tell you to do something.”

  Clutching the two sides of the shirt closed over her chest, suspicion washes over her features. “No.”

  “Go then. Leave.” Gesturing at the locked door, I casually cross my arms. “I won’t stop you.”

  Evelyn hovers with uncertainty her hope and misgiving clear. “You’re letting me go?”

  I nod. “But I can guarantee you won’t get far. They know your face. You won’t make it to a police station, let alone an airport if your planning to fly home. The only place you’re safe is with me. I know the type of people hunting me. Cool detached. They’ll go to any lengths to take out a target. I’ve done the same in the past. The money they’ve been paid leading to a vanishing trail. Different bank accounts that come to dead ends.”

  She blanches, the color draining from her cheeks. “But I’m nothing to you, just a hostage…”

  “They don’t know that. If they think they can use you as leverage, they will. When they finally torture the truth out of you, they’ll kill you.” I’m being an arsehole, but it’s true.

  Decisions swirl in the depths of her blue orbs, her mind turning. “What assurance do I have that you aren’t going to kill me either?”

  “None.”

  “And I’m just supposed to trust you with that?”

  Instead of answering, I stare her down. I’m not lying when I told her that her best option is me. I’ve been neck deep in blood and death since I could hold a gun. The organization I work for is an elite gathering of killers. Situations like this aren’t new to me. Not that I’m going to explain that all to her. The less she knows the better.

  Releasing a long pent-up sigh, she lowers the material around her shoulders to cup her breasts in her hands. “Please don’t take a photo of my face, and if this is for some porn site, you’re insane.”

  Raising my phone, I snap a picture. “This might just win a bet I have and get me some money.”

  Fuck up in Rome, but I think these might just win. I press send. Gawain and Bors will answer when they have time. This is one way we all check in. Keep in touch. If we don’t answer, the others know one of us is in trouble and investigate. We’ve saved each other’s arses a few times when someone doesn’t respond.

  “Scratch that, you are insane,” Evelyn mutters under her breath, buttoning up the shirt. Tucking the phone in my back pocket, I unlock the door. Voices emanate from somewhere in the house. The smell of coffee draws me along toward the kitchen.

  “Buongiorno, Kay. I’ve made your favorite. You’ve missed breakfast, and it’s practically lunchtime. And there’s plenty for your friend, too.”

  Tall and slim, the old woman beckons at us from the doorway speaking in Italian. Despite her fragile appearance and silver hair, I know she’s stubborn with a tongue as sharp as a razor blade. Married to Alessandro and head of their family, she has to be.

  Taking her gently by her brittle shoulders, I place a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Grazie, Laura.”

  Her eyes shine with affection. “After everything you do for us? Sending us money and taking care of our family. It’s nothing. Now sit down, eat, and tell us what’s going on and how we can help you with the trouble you’re in.”

  “How do you know I’m in trouble?” I counter in the same language.

  Laura’s grey eyebrow rises. “Something’s driven you home when nothing else has, and in your line of work, it has to be something dangerous. There’s also the bandage on your side I see under your open shirt.”

  I detect her note of concern. She’s correct. This place is a mausoleum to the memory of a childhood snatched away from me. These walls once held safety and security. Now they only hold an empty pain.

  The old woman looks expectantly from me to the woman at my side. Instead of telling her what I know she’s bursting to know, I take a seat at the table.

  “It’s nothing. A knife wound, don’t worry. Let me drink my coffee, and I’ll explain.” Taking a sip, the hot liquid goes someway to reviving my natural balance. Evelyn seats herself at the other end as far away from me as possible.

  Evelyn’s cheeks are a soft shade of pink with embarrassment. I’m guessing from the state she’s dressed in. Cotton material falling to mid-thigh, her long toned legs are visible, her toes curling adorably against the coldness of the marble floor. Hair loose and rumpled around her face, it looks like she’s been thoroughly fucked. She seats herself at the other end as far away from me as possible. Eyeing her in amusement, I hide my grin behind the rim of my mug. There’s nowhere she can go to escape me. I’ll let her have her small illusion of space, but it won’t last long.

  “This is Laura, Alessandro’s wife,” I tell her, switching to English.

  Evelyn hooks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Does she know you’re a criminal?”

  Her irritation at me is cute. “If by that you mean will she help you, then no, she won’t.”

  Pouring herself a cup of coffee, her bottom lip pokes out in a pout. Even after what I told her, she’s still looking for a way out. What will it take to convince her I’m right?

  I watch Laura bustle around Evelyn, fussing over her like a mother hen. Something about the girl has her in protective mode. Usually that’s reserved for me.

  Sharp grey eyes dart to my face. “Who is she? She’s far too pretty for you,” she questions, still in her native tongue. Collecting bowls, she quickly sets them out with cutlery.

  Alessandro grunts from where he’s sat at the end of the table, reading a newspaper. He only speaks when he has something to say. Not often when his wife usually does all the talking.

  “Well, she is.” The wrinkles in her face deepening when she frowns. “This one’s a lady, and not Kay’s type.”

  Fetching a pot with a cloth from the stove, she ladles the thick stew into the waiting dishes. The delicious familiar smell has my stomach rumbling. Even though I haven’t seen the couple in years, she remembers what I enjoyed as a boy. Caretakers to the building and my parents flat, they’re the only ones from my past I’ve stayed regularly in contact with. Before the tragedy, they’d worked for my mother. If Don Jilani hadn’t taken me in, I know I would have found a home with Laura and her family. Their ties to my mother had been loyal and deep. Even after the funeral, they’d stayed close to me. When things had been unpleasant in my new surroundings, this couple had been there to talk me through the pain and loss.

  “And how do you know what type I fuck?” Accepting the slice of bread the old woman hands me, I lay it on my plate.

  That earns me an amused snort. “Oh please, boy. I’ve known what women you bed since you we’re old enough to get your dick wet, and this girl isn’t like them. There’s an innocence about her, and she’s English, so she’s not a whore off the street.”

  “No, she’s not a whore,” I confirm. “Evelyn is a veterinarian.”

  The woman in question sitting across from me doesn’t even look up. Head bowed, she hungrily spoons the meaty stew into her mouth. Apart from the pizza I’d supplied her with, I don’t know when she’d had her last meal. Her lack of Italian is clear to everyone. We’re talking about her, and she has no idea what we’re saying. A tourist with no fucking idea.

  Alessandro chuckles, folding his newspaper. “You’re just as secretive as your father used to be.”

  “Careful, you mean,” I correct before taking a bite of succulent meat from my own bowl. The dish is simple but filling.

  Slipping into her own seat, Laura watches me with a shrewd stare. “Which b
egs the question, why is she in the company of a killer for hire?”

  I don’t bother to lie. Laura, who has been like a mother since I lost my own, knows when I do. She’s the only person in my life who can tell.

  “I was compromised on a job. Took a knife to my side, and I snatched Eve and her car to get away. She stitched me up, and I’ve been keeping her hostage.”

  “Kay, are you insane?” Alessandro snaps, his expression one of pure shock. “If she escapes and gives you up to the authorities, it’s your neck.”

  I’m more than aware of that. I’ve never let something like this happen before. Never let feelings precede the rules I have always obeyed. Appetite gone, I push my bowl aside. “No one will find out. She’ll stay here until I can figure out who’s got a hit out on me.”

  “We could just get rid of her, now. I know places we could dump the body. If you don’t want to do it, I can. I’ll make it quick. No fuss.”

  An image of my petal broken and dead flashes through my mind. Her lifeless stare. Dark bruises mottling her lovely neck that’s been snapped to an unnatural angle. I’m up off my chair before I can stop myself. Anger at my friend’s suggestion has rage exploding within me. “No one touches her. Do you understand me? No one.”

  Silence ensues.

  Eyes round with surprise, Evelyn stares up at my outburst. I’m thankful she doesn’t understand. If she knew we were quietly discussing, how to kill her, I know she’d freak out. Not what I need when I want her to trust me. I frown at that. When had I decided that?

  Placing her hands calmly on the table before her, Laura nods slowly. “Alright Kay. If that is what you want, we’ll look after her.”

  The knowing look she gives me makes me uncomfortable. Alessandro watches me with disapproval. They both know how our world works. Their middle son works for Don Jilani. That leaving her alive has me walking around with my neck in a noose. Yet I won’t take her life. I can’t. Just the thought of it makes me sick. There are other ways to assure her silence. I want to tame her. Have her look at me without distrust and fear for once. Nurture the desire that I keep catching in those topaz orbs.

  “Good. Once she’s finished, can you find her some clothes to wear?” Sliding my mobile from a trouser pocket, I glance at the screen. “I have calls to make.” Turning on my heels, I stalk from the room, leaving Evelyn to become accustomed to her new surroundings.

  Evelyn

  Exploring through an open door, I find myself in a dusty study. Apart from the spotless kitchen and the bedroom were using, this place hasn’t seen love for a very long time. Running the tip of my finger through a thick layer on an antique table, my curiosity lures me in.

  The awareness of being watched vanishes. Since I finished eating, the old couple Kay knows has been polite but watchful. It makes me wonder what he’s told them. How much they know. They hadn’t even batted an eyelid at the gun he’d holstered. If I can act meek and docile, maybe they’ll drop their guard enough for me to slip away. Kay’s words back in the bedroom had scared me, but I know staying with this killer is just as dangerous as taking a chance on my own.

  He expects me just to hand over trust after he kidnapped me? How crazy does he think I am? I need a plan of escape.

  My gaze shifts over the watercolor paintings on the walls. Drifting to a writing desk, I catch sight of a photo. The smiling woman is beautiful. Dark eyes crinkled at the corners, her chin is tilted confidently toward the photographer. The sparkle captured in her stare and the curve of her mouth is ripe with happiness. Lifting the ornate silver frame, I study her more carefully. Her nose is familiar and the shape of her face.

  “She was Kay’s mother.”

  Startled, I turn to the soft accented female voice. The old woman from the kitchen is watching me with a thoughtful expression from the open door.

  “She’s beautiful.” Gently I return the photo to its home.

  “Bella donna. It was love at first sight for his father. She was being courted by other men, but they both fell hard for each other.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Dead. Murdered,” she tells me sadly, her tone filled with grief.

  Glancing once more at the photo, my brows dip together in a frown. “I can’t imagine the pain of losing parents like that.”

  “It changed Kay. He was always a sweet little boy. After that day, something inside him turned cold.”

  Kay lost his family? All I’ve thought of him as is violent, a killer. Viewing him as a man with parents, as a child, has compassion swelling inside me. It can’t have been easy for him. The pain.

  Shuffling to the table, Laura slaps it with the cloth in her hand sending dust scattering into the air. “The rest of this place needs a thorough clean. It’s about time it was used. You have family back in England?”

  Moving out of the way, I watch her expertly wipe down the surface. “My mother and step father. They live in London.”

  “You’re here on holiday?”

  “I won a competition. All-inclusive trip to Rome and a stay in a fancy hotel. I thought it was a dream come true, right up until Kay got into my car and kidnapped me.” I don’t hide the bitterness in my tone. I shouldn’t be here. Right now, I should be enjoying the wonders of Rome.

  “He likes you.”

  Startled, I stare into her grey eyes. “I don’t think so…”

  “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have brought you here, and men like him don’t leave witnesses alive. I have some clothes for you to wear. They are old. Belong to my daughter.”

  Her swift change of conversation leaves me at a loss. She knows Kay kills people, and yet it doesn’t bother her. Laura’s wrinkled countenance remains serene. My thoughts latch onto her last few sentences. Fresh clothes. Even second hand it would ease my awkwardness at what I’m stuck wearing.

  The soft cotton of Kay’s shirt brushes over my skin every time I move. Masculine, seductive, the scent of his cologne overwhelms my senses every time I breath in.

  “Thank you.” Smiling, I pluck nervously at the fastened buttons at the front.

  She surveys me with a critical eye from head to feet. “If they don’t fit, I can adjust them. I’m a very good seamstress. I’ll bring them up now.”

  Before I can say a word, Laura slips out of the room her dirty cloth clenched between her hands.

  Finding the silver frame, I easily see the likeness. With a quick look, I see no other portraits. Nothing of a man who could be Kay’s father. It makes me wonder how much he resembles him?

  A sound has me checking the doorway.

  Kay steps insolently into the study, stubble sprinkles his angular jaw. Black hair messy, he still hasn’t bothered to button up his shirt. My stare takes in his ripped abs, the old scars marring his athletic frame and the stark white bandage on his side. He’s still wearing the leather shoulder holster. It hugs him high and close on his chest, the butt of the gun visible.

  My body clenches as I remember his sliding over mine. His fingers beating a tattoo of pleasure inside me. Stretching me. The darkness in his eyes draws me. A moth fluttering dangerously close to a deadly flame. He’s fucking lethal. A handsome face that hides something dark and sinful.

  “I see you’ve found my mother.” He gestures at the photograph.

  “It’s hard imagining you had one…I can’t think of you outside the context of my kidnapper,” I quickly elaborate.

  “I have a life outside of what I do, petal. I read. Enjoy driving fast cars. Spending time with friends…”

  “It sounds so normal.”

  His mouth tilts up in an annoying smirk. “There’s nothing normal about me.”

  “Why don’t you take Evelyn into the parlor after she’s changed?” Laura suggested as she reappears with an armful of garments. “I cleaned it while you were sleeping. I’m going to tackle the rest of the house today.”

  Accepting the bundle, I hug the pretty multi-colored fabrics with a sense of relief. Although he’s not keeping me naked, I still
feel defenseless. Hurrying from the room. I head toward the bedroom. Once inside, I make sure the door is firmly closed. Placing them on the dishevelled mattress, I shake out one of the dresses. One is a soft blue-grey color made of wool, another cotton and flowery. The third is a velvety fabric in a shade of ruby red, which is smooth under my wandering fingertips as I caress it. Not everyday garb. These are going out attire for a dinner or party. Arching an eyebrow at Laura’s choices, it makes me wonder why she chose them. Not that I’m about to complain. The only thing that irks me is the lack of underwear. Dressing in the demurest of the dresses, the simple grey turns out to be cashmere. Gathering my own dress and underwear from Kay’s bag, I pad bare foot from the room.

  “I don’t suppose I could get these washed?” I asked the old woman as I enter the kitchen. “I don’t have any other underwear with me.”

  Her husband is no longer sitting at the table and nowhere in sight.

  “Leave them on the chair. I’ll have Alessandro pick you up some underthings.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she turns from the sink where’s she’s washing dishes. “I thought that dress would suit you.”

  “It’s beautiful. Are you sure your daughter doesn’t mind me borrowing it?”

  Laura waves her hand in the air. “She has closets full of pretty things, given to her free from her modeling jobs. I doubt she’ll even notice they’re missing when she flies home from her latest shoot. My son, Tomaso, he moved out long ago. He has a good job working for a very important man. One day she’ll settle down, but until then, I enjoy having her home. Kay is waiting for you in the parlor.”

  Ushering me out of the kitchen, she points along the corridor. “Third door along.”

  My attention bounces to the closed front door. The multiple bolts and heavy locks look intimidating. How far would I get before I was caught? If I were caught? It hadn’t made much noise last night when Kay had opened it. Could I slip out before anyone noticed? Thought still rolling its way around my head, I enter the room.

  A Lalique glass ice bucket sits on a low coffee table, a bottle of Bollinger champagne nestles in ice. It’s not cheap. My abductor has money. Mafia? Drug trafficking or something even more sinister?