by Lila Dubois
Oscar and Luca might be subjected to torture. Or they might already be dead.
The need to act made Selene tremble.
“A firefight is the last thing we want,” Rhys drawled.
“Then we create a distraction and send in an extraction team,” Kristin said. “I’ve done distractions before.”
“Langston, you could build us a bomb?” Owen asked.
“Always, just point me toward a kitchen.”
“It’s still high risk,” Rodrigo countered. “They’d be trained for that. They’re not amateurs. A distraction and they’ll close ranks, making it harder to get to our people.”
“I can distract them,” Kristin said again, with an arched brow and slight smile.
Rodrigo blinked. “I’m sure you can.”
Kristin was one of those stop-men-in-their-tracks beauties.
“I’ll redirect a sewer line and flood the building,” she finished.
Rhys choked on a laugh. “That is not where I saw that going.”
Selene tuned them all out for a moment. She had an idea, a messy, uneven prism of a thing that wasn’t pretty or elegant. But it might work. It might mean they could walk in and see what shape her boys were in before either shit flowed or bullets flew.
“What do these guys know about what happened in Pennsylvania?” Selene asked.
Everyone looked at her.
“Why do you ask?” Owen was studying her.
“I have an idea.”
Selene took a breath and started talking.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Someone’s coming,” Luca whispered to him. Oscar didn’t say anything in reply, mostly because he couldn’t thanks to the half a roll of duct tape wrapped around his fucking head.
“Not more of the crew. Someone new. They sound worried. They’re using some slang I don’t know and—”
Luca stopped talking abruptly, and a second later, the sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of their kidnappers. The group had swelled from four to six people, and one of the two newcomers was clearly the boss. He couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, but he heard the boss called Andrej.
Andrej dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. The fact that the dude was smoking while wearing a tracksuit with a gun tucked in the back, and was basically a walking, talking Eastern European stereotype, was seriously pissing Oscar off.
Being pissed was a lot easier than being scared.
Though Andrej looked less intimidating than the others, who were in what looked like all-black military fatigues, it was obvious he was the leader. And right now, he was barking orders.
With the bad guys in the room, Luca couldn’t translate for him, so Oscar had to try to read everyone’s body language. Whatever was about to happen was bad. Really, really bad, based on the way Luca had stiffened. Oscar grunted—the only noise he could make—to remind Luca that he had to act like he couldn’t understand when they spoke Serbian.
Luca turned his head, his eyes wide.
What the fuck was that expression supposed to mean? Dammit. Oscar had no fucking idea.
Andrej continued giving orders, and two of the five men ran out, one returning rather quickly with a chair, setting it down. Andrej took a seat and crossed his legs, ankle on knee. Then he seemed to change his mind and sat up straight, taking a fresh cigarette from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth. The other men arranged themselves, one just behind Andrej’s chair, the others near the windows.
Andrej adjusted his position again. What the actual fuck was going on?
The sound of footsteps grew louder, and Oscar frowned. At least one of the people coming in was wearing high heels.
One of the two guards who’d left entered again, holding aside the plastic.
A mountain of a man stepped through—6’5” with a shaved head, medium-tone skin, and wearing a belt with a gun and knife, one on each hip.
Oscar froze because he knew the man. It was Ridley. One of the MPF. Was one of the task force members a traitor? Working with these guys, the Bellator Dei, or both?
That would explain how the mercenaries had found them.
Ridley moved to the side and a woman stepped through.
Dark hair fell in a perfect curtain around her lovely face. She wore a blood-red dress, a white fur stole, and black fuck-me heels.
Selene.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
More men came in behind her—Owen, Vadisk, Rodrigo. They arranged themselves around the room, each one armed to the teeth.
Another Serbian man brought up the rear, and Vadisk bared his teeth at the man as he skirted around from behind them to join his compatriots.
“Am I hallucinating?” Luca breathed.
Oscar made a noise and shook his head.
“Any idea what she’s doing?” Luca asked again, his lips barely moving, though no one was looking at them.
Selene surveyed the room, chin held high.
It was a really good supervillain look.
Oscar swallowed the hysterical urge to start laughing and was now glad for the presence of the duct tape.
“Do you speak English?” Selene demanded.
“Yes.” Andrej lit his cigarette. “Do you speak Serbian?”
“There is literally no reason I would bother to do that.”
Andrej bared his teeth. “I’d watch your mouth, pretty lady.”
Selene made a face like she’d just watched a dog eat its own poop. “First of all, secondhand smoke kills. Put it out.”
Andrej took a deep breath and blew it at her.
Selene tapped Owen on the shoulder. “Shoot him.”
Owen hesitated for half a second before raising his gun, and Oscar saw his gaze slide toward her, knew the moment Owen realized this plan was probably insane because Selene was the best kind of nuts.
The Serbians all whipped out guns, pointing them at Selene.
In turn, Vadisk, Rodrigo, and Ridley pulled their guns.
The tune to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly started playing in Oscar’s head.
Selene rolled her eyes, walked over to Andrej, and ripped the cigarette from his mouth. He surged to his feet with a snarl and everyone raced forward, but before anyone could reach her, Selene put the cigarette out on the hand Andrej had reaching for her throat.
Andrej stumbled back, spitting a word at her.
“Bitch,” Luca translated.
Oscar looked at him and blinked slowly to indicate that he’d gotten that.
Andrej drew his own gun and raised it, pointing it at Selene’s face. “I’ll keep you alive and—”
Selene sighed and dropped the cigarette. “Yes, yes, threats of violence and rape.”
Was the woman on drugs? What on God’s green Earth was she thinking? The man had a gun pointed at her fucking head. If he had to watch the woman he loved get shot, he was going to…well, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it would be something.
“Moving on.” Selene pushed his gun down. “Do you need me to tell you that I have this entire building surrounded, or have you figured it out on your own?”
Andrej looked at the man standing by the window. He shifted the plastic to look out then jerked back. He looked at Andrej and nodded slowly.
Andrej sucked in air through his nostrils. “That won’t do you any good if you’re dead.”
“If your solution to everything is to kill someone, it’s no wonder you’re not a major player. Killing lacks imagination.”
If they survived this, Oscar was going to put Selene in therapy. Anti-supervillain therapy. Was that a thing? Maybe Walt could do some shock therapy or something.
“I am—”
“No one.” Selene’s voice cracked. “You stumbled upon something valuable, and you treat it like that?” She gestured to Luca.
Oscar blanked his expression when everyone glanced their way.
“And look at what you did to him.” Selene’s eyes met Oscar’s for the first time, and he knew he was the only one w
ho could see the desperate fear she was hiding. “He’s my favorite. If you kill him, I won’t have a matched set anymore.”
“What?” Andrej demanded.
“There is a man who looks just like him outside,” the man by the window muttered.
Andrej put his gun away, which indicated he was smarter than he looked. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Selene Gallio.”
Oscar leaned his head back against the wall and just barely refrained from banging it repeatedly.
Selene Gallio made sense as an alias. It was her real first name after all. But it was also the name of the oldest-known mutant in the Marvel Universe. Selene, the comic book character, was, of course, a villain.
Oscar opened one eye. Selene was looking at him and smiling. He closed his eye.
This was either going to work, or they were all fucking dead.
“Selene is a beautiful name. You are…American?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re with a triad.”
Selene stopped, frowning. “Excuse me? You mean the Chinese gang?”
Andrej nodded like he was so smart for figuring that out.
“First of all,” Selene declared, “that’s racist. I’m clearly Japanese.” She pointed to her features.
“Asian people look alike.” Andrej shrugged.
Selene sucked in an outraged breath. Die. They were all going to die because, shockingly, the Serbian mercenary was racist.
Oscar slid the heels of his shoes across the floor, making just enough noise to draw her attention. Selene pressed her tongue to her lip and held up a hand.
“You are not worth teaching. You, third favorite. Go get my favorite.” Selene tapped Rodrigo on the arm.
“I think that makes me second favorite,” Luca whispered. “Because we were going to invite Rodrigo to the gang bang.”
Oscar looked at him. Fucking what? Was he the only one who wasn’t completely unhinged in this relationship?
“I fail to understand why you think you have the power here,” Andrej said coldly. “You have men outside? Fine. What is to stop me from taking you hostage?”
“Do the thing with the dots,” Selene said, waving one finger in the air.
Owen pulled a phone from his pocket just as Rodrigo dropped to a knee beside Oscar. He took a knife from his pocket and started cutting through duct tape.
A red sniper dot appeared on Andrej’s shirt. Then half a dozen more dots appeared on the floor around him.
Everyone froze.
Rodrigo took a set of cuff keys from his pocket and undid first Oscar’s cuffs, then Luca’s. Oscar started working on the tape around his mouth.
“You are smart,” Selene said softly. “You saw what the cute Italian man could do. Saw his potential.” She stepped closer to him and the dots slid away from her, one hovering on the side of his head, but none touching her. “If you could dream of greater things, we could be…allies.”
Oscar ripped off the last of the tape, taking the top layer of skin off his lips and half the hair out of his beard as he did so. He dragged in a deep breath through his mouth.
Andrej sighed and his body language shifted. The man was smart enough to know when he’d been out maneuvered. “I’ve never heard your name.”
“Exactly. If I were you, I’d start making sure no one knows yours.” Selene stepped back. “I’m sorry to take your prize, but I want him.”
Rodrigo hauled Luca to his feet and started dragging him across the room. Oscar got up more slowly. His legs were slightly numb.
Luca started babbling in Italian and pulling against Rodrigo.
“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Andrej said mildly.
Good job, Luca, play along.
“I’m sure he doesn’t, but I didn’t ask. Did I?” Selene smirked.
“You’re going to steal from me and leave me nothing? We had a deal.”
“I would, but I’ve been told that’s no way to make friends.” Selene snapped her fingers and held out her hand. Ridley handed her a small tablet. “The plans for his bomb, as promised. We located them. I, of course, kept a copy, but I have no interest in using it in this part of the world.”
She passed Andrej the tablet. He tapped it against his palm. “What if we share him?”
“I don’t share,” Selene declared. “Just be glad I’m not asking for a gift. I like the look of that one.” She pointed at the man behind Andrej’s shoulder.
The man’s eyes widened in a mix of alarm and…interest?
For fuck’s sake, Selene.
Andrej was looking at the tablet screen, his fingers flicking over it.
Oscar made it over to his group, and without any sense of shame stood directly behind Ridley, who was big enough to be a human shield in case things went south. He couldn’t believe they’d made it this fucking far.
“You can have him if we share the Italian.” Andrej tucked the tablet into his pocket.
“I still don’t share. It was a problem when I was in school, I’ll admit.” Selene cocked her head, examining the man in question, then shook it. “No, I have a similar-looking one back home. I’ll be leaving now.”
Andrej smiled, his disposition as sunny as a fucking military anarchist could manage, now that he had the bomb design. Oscar was grateful the bomb wouldn’t work because God only knew how much damage these assholes could do with a true city killer. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Selene.”
“And with you.” She offered the scary mercenary who now possessed a nuclear bomb a saucy wink.
Then Selene turned and calmly walked them all right out of the building and into two waiting vehicles.
Oscar plopped down in a middle bench seat. Luca sat beside him. Selene had claimed the front passenger seat with Rodrigo, and Owen sat in the back. The others, including people who’d been outside, piled into the second car.
Oscar and Luca looked at one another, then at Selene, who was twisted in her seat to check on them.
“What. The actual. Fuck. Was that!?” Oscar demanded, all his feelings bubbling up inside at once.
“That was not the plan we went over.” Owen sounded hoarse. Probably from repressing the need to shout at someone. Selene, undoubtedly.
“I improvised,” she said primly.
“I nearly shat my pants,” Rodrigo said from the driver’s seat.
Luca started to laugh. It had a hysterical edge.
Selene wiggled her eyebrows. “I am such a good supervillain.”
Oscar leaned back, put his hands over his face, and started to laugh too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luca sat between Oscar and Selene in the same conference room far beneath the Boston Public Library where he’d been onboarded as a member of the Trinity Masters. The three of them could have walked onto the set of any zombie movie as extras right now without needing a bit of makeup.
It had been twelve hours since Selene—with the help of the MPF—had bluffed her way into a meeting with some seriously dangerous men and managed to rescue him and Oscar.
As they drove away, Owen and Selene had quickly filled Luca in about how Joli had helped them find him and Oscar. Though he still had a million questions, Selene grasped his hand and assured him that Joli was okay.
They hadn’t even returned to the hotel afterwards. Instead, Rodrigo, who’d been driving the SUV, had dropped the three of them and Owen off at a small landing strip, where they’d boarded a private plane back to Boston. Luca dragged his feet, insisting on remaining in Rome until they found Joli, but Owen had shaken his head, promising that his sister was fine where she was.
Langston had remained with Rodrigo, who would take him to Fiumicino Airport to catch a commercial flight back to Houston. Langston had only been brought in to help defuse the bombs. His part in all of this was clearly finished. He and Oscar had said a quick goodbye before they’d boarded, hugging and promising they’d find time to visit each other again soon, when things weren’t so crazy.
Luca tried to brush some dirt off his shirt, but all he did was spread the stain around and make it larger. He was on day two—he thought it was day two, though it felt like twenty years—in this outfit, which was wrinkled and, well, he was pretty sure he stunk. He’d gotten sick numerous times from the knockout drugs the mercenaries had used on him. He’d been sitting in his own filth so long, he wasn’t even sure if he smelled. Oscar and Selene had claimed the seats on either side of him, which gave him hope he was wrong. Of course, it also gave him even greater hope that they loved him enough not to care about how badly he needed a shower right now.
Their luggage had been retrieved from the hotel and delivered to the airport, but someone had stowed it beneath in the cargo hold, so they hadn’t had the opportunity to change. Not that any of them had been thinking about that when they’d boarded the plane.
Oscar looked even rougher than Luca felt. Selene had found a washcloth on the plane that brought them back to the U.S. and cleaned up the gummy residue on his face. His beard looked patchy from where the duct tape had pulled out large chunks of his facial hair. Like Luca, his clothing had seen better days, stained and filthy.
Selene, however, took the prize. She looked like a nightclub singer—the kind who got the job because she slept with the mob boss—the morning after a long set. She’d slipped off her white stole and hung it on the back of her chair when they’d entered the room, refusing to give it up upon landing because she needed the extra layer. The Boston air was teeth-chattering frigid, a rude awakening after the mild temperatures in Rome. Her mascara had smudged, leaving her with raccoon eyes, her hair was pressed flat against her head on one side from where she’d fallen asleep on Oscar’s shoulder, and her bright red dress looked completely out of place in this conference room.
The second they’d boarded the private plane and the door was closed behind them, Oscar had reached for both of them, pulling them tightly into his embrace, kissing Selene’s forehead, then Luca’s, over and over, as he swore he was never letting either of them out of his sight again. Owen had excused himself to talk to the pilot, though Luca suspected the man had merely wanted to give the three of them some privacy for a few minutes.