Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1)

by Alice May Ball

  I swept my left arm around her. Held her close. Stroked her as I reached to cradle her head and wrap her in the crook of my arm. Feeling the flutter in her chest as she pressed lightly against me, her softness against my tense sinews, still twanging, not fully powered down, I breathed.

  Her hair smelled like strawberries in fresh hay. In my whole life, I’d never wanted to soothe and comfort anybody so very much.

  Now that all was comparatively calm, the pain at the bridge of my nose began to throb. In the doorway, Bruto noisily lumbered to his feet. He was headed into the room. On a reflex I said, “Shut the door.”

  By the look on his face, I don’t think he loved the way that I said it. Fuck him. Alexa’s breast swelled as she took a long, slow breath. She shook at little at the beginning of it. She held the breath and nuzzled a little closer to me.

  Then she turned to Bruto. He jerked his arms, bound tight behind him.

  “Get something to cut this fucking tie.”

  Her voice was cool, and she looked back at me as she told him, “I’m not sure. I think I like you better like that.”

  I said, “We’d better call Carmine. He has to know.”

  Bruto said, “Get me his number. I’ll call.”

  I took out my phone, pressed the screen for the number and called. Bruto jerked his tied arms, looking like a homicidal seal. The kind that balances balls on the end of its nose.

  Carmine’s voice came on the phone and I told him what had happened.

  First he wanted to know if Alexa was okay, then Bruto. Then he asked me about casualties.

  “Okay,” he said, “we’ll be right there. I need all three of you to wait in the apartment. Don’t let anyone else inside.”

  Leaned up against the warm shelter of Luka’s back had seemed like somewhere I might stay for a while. It could have been if it hadn’t been for Bruto. For a few moments there I had the comfort and protection of Luka’s strong arm around me.

  In those precious few seconds, I had something that felt like a realization. The sensations in my stomach the last fifteen minutes, or however long it was, they were the roller-coaster leaps of fear, and if I’m honest, of excitement, too. But there was something else there, as well.

  The last couple of days, I’d seen my appetite shift. At breakfast I was taking more bacon, more syrup. When I ordered food, I was picking sweeter things and stronger tastes. Just for that moment, though, it felt good to press up against his chest, even though I got giddy if I let my mind wander and start to think about how all of this might work out.

  The resonance of Luka’s voice in his body stirred me. He asked Bruto, “You want to call Carmine? ‘Carm’?” I looked up to see Bruto glower back at him. Luka said, “You want to tell him how you were the hero of this little show? Maybe he’ll give you a medal.”

  Bruto looked down at the two bodies.

  ~~

  Luka and I followed Carmine down the hallway to what Tony called his study at the end of the apartment. I didn’t like that room. It smelled musty in a way that unsettled me. But I think Carmine wanted us out of the way while the guys in coveralls did their work out in the main room.

  Carmine patted the back of my hand and it was a comfort. It felt like real care and concern, although I still couldn’t completely trust him. He was a man, after all. There would always be a doubt. Still, when he looked into my eyes, I could see he wasn’t just asking how I was; he was really looking to see. It mattered to him. It felt like family.

  Carmine rose and poured himself a malt whisky. Showed the bottle to me, but I shook my head. And to Luka, but he declined, too. Bruto came in the room. When he saw Carmine’s drink, he fetched a tumbler and splashed a generous measure for himself.

  With the tumbler raised he said, “Mud in your eye, Carm,” and took a healthy slug. Carmine watched him without expression.

  Then he said, “Bruto, I’ll be straight with you. With Tony gone, I was worried about you being in charge of one wing of our operation. Especially with this thing coming up with the Russians, day after tomorrow.”

  “I understand, Carm,” Bruto said.

  Carmine looked at Bruto for a long time before he added, “I very much doubt it.” Bruto was still, like he didn’t trust himself to move. Like he was unsure of the ground he was on.

  Carmine went on, “Tony and Massimo, they weren’t exactly a swell of brotherly love, but they got along, you know? They worked together.” He looked long at Bruto. “Seems you’re not too easy to work with.”

  Bruto opened his mouth to speak, but Carmine raised a hand and cut him off. “See, that’s one thing right there, Bruto. You’re not much for listening. It’s hard to do good business with somebody who doesn’t want to listen.”

  Bruto was quiet. Carmine waved his hand to indicate the main room outside. “And this. This doesn’t inspire confidence.”

  Bruto reddened, “What are you talking about? This was Massimo!”

  “It was here, Bruto. You’ve taken charge of here. You want responsibility? Here it is. How are you going to reassure me that none of this is going to mess up the thing with Vassily?”

  Bruto shook his head. “How can I do that, Carm? Come on. It wasn’t my doing.”

  “If you can’t, then you can’t.” Their eyes locked and Carmine said, “But there will need to be changes.”

  Bruto shrugged with his arms out and his palms upwards. “Tell me, Carm. Whatever it takes.”

  Carmine narrowed his eyes as he took a moment to look into Bruto’s face. “I don’t know whether you’re really keeping up here, Bruto. There will have to be changes, meaning someone’s going to need to be in charge here who can make things right with Massimo.”

  Bruto’s brow lowered.

  Carmine laid a hand on Bruto’s shoulder and said, “You need some relaxation.” Bruto’s face paled, “You like to go out on a boat, Bruto. I’ll set up a fishing trip for you. Tonight.”

  Bruto’s voice was quiet. “I’ll make it right, Carm. I’ll get it straight.”

  “Before tonight?”

  “Right now, Carm. You wait here.”

  He fished out his phone as he left the room. Carmine shook his head as he raised his scotch. With his eyes on me, he said, “That is one thick skull.”

  My instinct was to agree with him, but I decided it was safest to stay quiet.

  Still looking at me, but waving a hand toward Luka, he said, “How’s this one working out?”

  Carmine was a wily old fox. It seemed like an innocent question, kind of off-the-cuff, but I was sure that was the tip of a massive iceberg.

  It wasn’t easy to keep my eyes from wandering over to Luka at that point, but I managed to keep them squarely on Carmine. I said, “He did a great job with Massimo’s men. He waited till the last minute, and truly, I was pretty frightened there, but he knew exactly what he was doing.”

  “Shouldn’t he have tried a little harder to help Bruto out?”

  I asked him, “Is that what Bruto said?” Carmine’s smile didn’t give anything away. “Well, Bruto came out of it unhurt, didn’t he?”

  “Well, maybe his pride got a bit bent.”

  “So, are you asking me if I think Luka should have taken more of a risk with my safety in order to protect Bruto’s pride?”

  I watched him think about it. Luka was about to speak when I held up a hand and said, “He stood still. While Massimo’s men came and got me, he waited until they were close enough together that he could get them both. They were inches from me when he fired, and moving.” My heart skipped as I thought about it. “I can’t imagine the kind of control it took for him to calmly pull those two perfect shots out of the bag, with Furio and Massimo right in front of him. One or both of them could easily have gotten off a shot, and he was an easy target in open space.”

  I looked at Luka. His face gave nothing away. I wanted to fling my arms around him then and there.

  Carmine sighed as he lifted my hand and softly kissed my fingers. “Alexa, that wa
s some speech. What could I refuse you after that?”

  He sounded like a medieval Italian prince. I could ask him for anything. I could ask him for Luka. The thought almost made me giggle. Like in a fairy tale. My guess was that he really would have given him to me, too. That wasn’t the way for Luka, though. Nor for me, either, however attractive the idea might have seemed.

  Carmine’s eyes twinkled as he told me, “You were born for this work. The politics of it, at least. Where have you been all this time?” He gave my fingers a squeeze before he let them go. “Luka’s arranged a helicopter, right? You can deliver it for Vassily tomorrow?”

  I nodded.

  Carmine looked over at Luka, then back at me. “You’ll have Bruto’s men and Massimo’s on the team.”

  I said, “Assuming Bruto can strike a deal with Massimo.”

  He smiled. “I already told Massimo the deal they’re going to make. He didn’t seem any happier about it than Bruto will be, but they’ll both work with it.”

  Nodding, I was sure they would. That or they could both be going out night fishing together.

  Carmine told Luka, “Whatever happens the day after tomorrow, don’t forget, okay? Your responsibility is to look after this one. Keep her safe. Are we clear?”

  The day after tomorrow. The first day I could reliably take a test.

  I was cold, although probably more due to nerves than weather. Luka was in the driver’s seat of the van, too far away from me in the passenger seat. Bruto crouched in the back and stayed down behind my seat. Whatever or whoever he wanted to hide himself from, it did nothing to steady my nerves or reassure me, up front by the windshield.

  Russians were stationed on the far side of the dark compound at the entrance gate with one of Bruto’s men and one of Massimo’s. Bruto and Massimo demanded an equal number of men in every position, which seemed to me like a recipe for disaster. I had said as much to Luka.

  “That will just mean there are too many men in some places, not enough in others, and they’ll all be too busy watching each other to be effective.” Luka just nodded. Pulled up his bottom lip so his chin flattened like a chisel. My breath caught whenever he did that.

  Bruto had come with us to collect the helicopter, shouted and complained all the way from where we picked it up to the security-fenced yard at the edge of a private airfield. Kept on at Luka as we took off. “Don’t fly too low. Watch your height.” From the edge in Bruto’s voice, I was sure that all he’d wanted was to rattle Luka, though I wasn’t able to see any sign that it worked.

  When we met Vassily to hand over the security codes and key and collect the second payment, Bruto had to come along with us. Vassily sidelined him, all but ignored him. Offered the bags with the money to me.

  “Give them to Bruto,” I’d said. When Vassily handed them over, he said to take care of them, like Bruto was an unreliable flunky.

  Then Bruto bitched about having to count it all the way back. Luka just said what I was thinking. “So don’t count it.”

  “You should fucking count it.”

  “Then you wouldn’t fucking believe it, so you’d just have to count it again anyway.”

  He’d made Luka and me ride along to attend his “reconciliation meeting,” where he and Massimo hunkered and snarled across a square metal table in the middle of a dusty warehouse, both looking like they were chewing on hornets’ nests. When they got up to shake hands and man-hug each other at the end, they looked like they could have been in an embrace with a bear in a suicide vest.

  He’d glowered and scowled around for days, keeping his secrets, hatching his plots and glaring suspiciously at everyone and everything.

  “Can’t fucking trust anyone,” he muttered constantly.

  Once I said, “You think that could be because you can’t be trusted yourself?” and smiled sweetly at him.

  The deserted compound was by the waterfront and fenced off with a double wall of chainlink and hoardings inside the fences. There were a couple of low, wrecked brick buildings with no glass in the windows on the waterfront side. Luka drove us there in the van with Bruto’s guys behind us in one SUV and Massimo’s in another.

  The compound was in darkness. As we drove across, we could hardly judge its size or even see as far as any of the sides. We passed eight floodlight towers on the way. Only a few small lamps on one of the towers was lit. The one patch of cold light in the middle of the shadows probably made the lot seem bigger than it was.

  When our convoy reached the entrance, the Russians swung open the chain link gate and waved Kalashnikovs to admit us. Two of Bruto’s men got out there to wait, as we’d arranged, and two of Massimo’s.

  Luka followed the direction the guards pointed for us until we found the fence at the far side, then he turned the van around and killed the lights. The other two cars followed us. When all the vehicles stopped the men all got out. They formed up in to teams of two from each car and fanned out.

  That just left me in the front of the van with Luka, and Bruto ducked down behind us.

  Then we waited. All these guys with guns made me jumpy, especially since the guys on ‘our’ side—Bruto’s men and Massimo’s—were the ones I mistrusted the most.

  Luka’s jaw was tight and he sat very still. Bruto shifted around behind me and I wished he wouldn’t. It felt like hours that we sat in darkness and silence, though it was probably no more than twenty minutes.

  At the far side, the lights of two black SUVs were followed by a big truck. The three vehicles paused at the gates, waited while the Russians swung them open, then drove a short way in and stopped as the gates shut behind them.

  From behind me, Bruto said, “That must be the cartel with the merchandise.”

  “Man,” Luka murmured, “nothing gets past you.”

  “Shut the fuck up, douchebag,” Bruto snarled from the back. “I’m getting pretty fucking tired of your yapping.”

  Quietly, I said, “Don’t let the tension get to you, Bruto. We could have a while to go.”

  “The fuck do you know about it?” He was almost shouting. He sat back in the seat. From the look on his face, even he must have realized that he was losing it.

  In the far-off gloom, I made out a half a dozen armed men climbing out of each of the SUVs, and two more men in fatigues got down from the cab of the truck.

  As we waited, I thought I saw the truck shake from time to time. The second time it did, I looked across to Luka to see if he saw it, too. Without looking round, he made a small nod.

  The sound of the helicopter reached us from a long way off. The tiny white and red lights seemed to take forever creeping closer, and all the time, the noise grew louder. It came slowly nearer and my insides tingled at the sound of Luka’s low, steady voice. Quietly, he said, “It’s a Russian pilot.”

  I asked him, “How could you know that?”

  “The style of flying. Flies in a straight line to a landmark, turns to the next one, files in a straight line again. When he comes in to land, he’ll stop over the light, turn to the direction he wants to face, and then come almost straight down.”

  The rattling whine grew louder and echoed around the compound as the sides of the square body heaved into view. The helicopter seemed huge. The roar of the engine and the thunder of the blades were painful, and the rotor made the van shake.

  The van shook, and the noise was deafening as the massive machine stopped in the air over the weak pool of light. Slowly it rotated to face the way it had come. My heart skipped. I thought it was going to leave. Far across the compound, the high-sided truck leaned away from the wind of the huge blades.

  The floodlights all blazed and I was blinded for a few moments. I held up my arm to shield my eyes.

  As Luka had said, the chopper came straight down and landed in the middle of the compound between us and the vehicles on the far side. The blades slowed, but the whine was still painfully loud as Vassily stepped out of the helicopter and led about a dozen men, all of them with machine guns, dow
n onto the tarmac.

  They all kept their heads low. Vassily strode toward the truck. From the backs of the SUVs, two men in suits came out to join him. The men’s arms went out as they approached each other. When the three men met, Vassily embraced first one, then the other. He kissed them both and they all acted like the dearest old friends from school.

  Vassily and one of the men pulled out small iPads and their faces were illuminated by the screens as they tapped on them. Vassily typed on his tablet, then showed it to the men from the cartel. They looked at their own tablet, and back up to Vassily. After a moment they all nodded, shook hands, and hugged again.