Kiss Me (Kiss of Death Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  I give it to Rafael, he has all the fucking kit. Armour plated Hummers with mounted .50 Cal gun’s attached to the roof. One of his men is hanging out the sunroof, ready to open fire on the Russian and his beloved soldiers. He has instructions not to kill Nicholai though. Una deserves that honor.

  As soon as we’re on flat ground, we’re flooring it towards the parked Range Rovers. The two soldiers move in front of Nicholai, firing bullets at the car. Shots ping off the hood and I slam my foot over the accelerator. When they realize that their bullets aren’t doing shit, they run for the car, ushering Nicholai inside.

  Gio reaches back and taps the knee of the guy with the big fucking gun. He opens fire, the bullets leaving golf-ball-sized holes in the body work of one of the parked Ranger Rovers.

  “Damn, I need one of these cars,” I say on a grin.

  “Might be a bit conspicuous in New York,” Gio shouts over the deafening bang, bang, bang of gunfire. The Range Rover screeches away, heading into the desert, and I follow. Rafael pulls up beside me. Bullets spray the back of the Range Rover, shattering the glass and tearing holes through the body work until one tire explodes. The car veers violently to the side, fishtailing before skidding sideways and tipping. It rolls over several times before coming to a stop on its wheels again. I palm my .40 Cal and throw my door open. Gio and Rafael fall in beside me. I lift my gun, shooting the Elite who is slumped against the steering wheel clutching his head. The other one looks dead. Rafael goes to the back door, bracing his hand over the door handle as he watches me. I line up, lifting my gun before I nod at him. He wrenches the door open and Nicholai falls out of the car. For a moment, I’m sure he’s dead, but then he groans and attempts to crawl across the floor.

  I have no sympathy for this piece of shit. If it were up to me, I’d tie him to the tow bar and fucking drag him back to that compound for Una to slaughter, but he might die on the way and she needs to be the one to end him. He has taken more from her than anyone. I kick him in the gut hard enough that he lands on his back, gasping for air. He holds his hand up, shielding his eyes from the sun as he tries to look at me. His suit is covered in dust and blood trickles from his nose, pouring down his chin.

  “Nicholai Ivanov,” I say with a twisted grin, leaning down and yanking him to his feet. He sways and Gio grabs his arm, holding him up. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “Nero Verdi,” he says and then laughs. “You reach too far. You will not make it out of the country alive.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?” I raise my eyebrows and then cup my ear, tilting my head. “I don’t hear anything.” I smirk. “Oh, wait. That’s because no one is coming. You are all out of allies, Nicholai.”

  His teeth clench. “I need no allies. I have an army. My Elite will end you, and your child will be mine.”

  My fingers flinch, wanting to grab my gun. Instead I punch him in the gut hard enough that a breath wheezes past his lips. Gio holds him up and I step close to him, cupping the back of his neck and bringing my lips to his ear. “Your Elite are dying as we speak. Killed by your own…your best,” I say quietly. “You did make Una quite formidable.” I step back and his cold, blue eyes flash angrily.

  He audibly grinds his teeth. “I made her strong. I made her the best…”

  “You fucking broke her!” I shout, my temper spiking. I grab the front of his jacket, lifting him onto his tiptoes. “But you’re right, Nicholai. You made her strong.” I search that soulless gaze. “Strong enough to put an end to you.”

  He huffs a laugh. “Una is mine. She will always be what I made her.” A sick grin spreads across his lips.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Una is mine. Her baby is mine.” I shove him away from me, and he staggers back. “You’re about to see what happens when you try and take what’s fucking mine.” I nod at Gio and he drags him towards the car before I break my word and fucking kill him. Gio shoves him inside next to our gunman who is now sitting on the back seat, pointing a pistol at him.

  Rafael comes to stand beside me. “I can’t wait to see this,” he says on a smile.

  My vicious little queen will finally get her revenge.

  34

  Una

  I wait in Rafael’s office, the distant sound of gunfire filling the house, but I don’t know who’s winning. The simple fact is, a band of Elite are not easily taken down. The office door flies open and I swing my gun in that direction. Sasha frowns at me, impatience written all over his features. Blood is spattered across his neck and arms, and his black t-shirt is wet with it. “Come on,” he huffs.

  I roll my eyes and push to my feet, swinging the rifle over my shoulder. We descend the stairs and I follow him out into the courtyard. Rafael’s men that I ‘shot’ come to stand with us as the main gate is opened, allowing two Hummers to cruise into the courtyard. The windows are completely blacked out. Two heavy duty guns are mounted on their roofs. Sasha stands rigid beside me. I know this is hard for him. His loyalties aren’t as black and white as mine.

  The passenger side door to one of the hummers opens, and I watch as a familiar frame climbs from it. Nero flashes me a cocky smile as he closes the door. He’s wearing gray suit pants and a black shirt, open at the collar. With his Ray Bans and his perfect face, he looks like he should be in the pages of a magazine rather than here, in a cartel compound, participating in a mafia war. Gio gets out of the driver’s side and Rafael climbs out of the other car, followed by Anna. Her long, blonde hair catches in the wind, and she folds her arms over her body, staying close to Rafael’s side. I lock eyes with my sister and she offers me a small smile. Apparently, I’m forgiven for cutting off her finger.

  “Now that everyone’s here…” Nero says, opening the back door of the car and dragging out Nicholai. His suit is rumpled and dirty as though he’s been rolling around in the dirt. His nose is bloody. We put this plan into play, but I always thought that he would somehow see it coming, that he would outmaneuver us the way he has done to so many others. But he was blinded by his own desperation, his own demented obsession, and in the end, it was his obsession with Dante that brought him to this point. He broke his own rules, and instead of going after a vulnerable, helpless child from an orphanage he chose the child of two of the most feared people in the world. Stupid.

  That icy blue gaze of his meets mine before shifting to Sasha who stands beside me. “You,” he says to Sasha, his voice layered in accusation and disappointment. “I gave you both everything,” he snaps. Me, he wanted to trust, but didn’t quite. Sasha…well Sasha was the unfailingly loyal, prodigal son. Until he watched me—the best of the Elite—fall. Until he witnessed my love for Dante. It changed him. So, when Nicholai asked him to gather intelligence on whether my son was indeed in Rafael’s possession, Nicholai never doubted it. It was too perfect.

  I take a deep breath and step in front of Sasha, knowing that this weighs more heavily on him than it does me. “You gave us nothing,” I say. “You took everything.” I glance at him with a cold indifference as I walk toward him, aware all eyes are on us. I feel Nero’s strengthening presence as he leans against the car.

  I circle around behind Nicholai and kick hard, sending him to his knees with a grunt. I grab his jaw and twist his face, forcing him to look at the four bodies of the fallen Elite I shot earlier. “Do you know why you are here, Nicholai?” I growl. He says nothing, fighting against my hold. I grip the top of his head and hold him in such a way that threatens to snap his neck. “You are here, on your knees, because you were arrogant. You believed yourself invincible, protected by your army. Protected by your children.” I release him and step away. I walk over to Sasha who hands me two knives. I throw them to the ground. They clatter to a stop just in front of Nicholai. “Pick them up,” I say, cracking my neck from side to side as I pace a few feet towards Nero and back again. “Fucking pick them up!” I shout when he doesn’t respond.

  “So you can kill me and call it a fair fight?” he says. I snort as a low rumble of laughte
r comes from Nero.

  “Nothing could make that a fair fight,” Nero tells him, amusement in his tone. “You will die, undoubtedly.”

  “You took my child from me and then forced me to fight some of your best only days later.” Anger is threatening to consume me and the urge to just shoot him in the face is strong. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the moment he turned his back on me, leaving me strapped to a bed while he walked away with my baby. “So now you will fight your best, Nicholai. You will know what it is to fight for your life.”

  His eyes meet mine for the briefest moment and then his jaw clenches. He grabs the knives, pushing to feet before he charges me. I smile, standing completely still as he comes at me. I move at the last second, catching his arm as he fires straight past. I twist his arm behind his back, breaking it. The knife slips from his grasp and I catch it, slamming it deep into his shoulder. He cries out in pain and I smile.

  He spins, slashing wildly with the remaining knife, his movements nothing more than the desperate last ditch efforts of a man who knows his fate is sealed. I take several steps back before I move fast, slamming my fist into his throat. He chokes and I divulge him of his knife, imbedding it into his other shoulder. He roars in pain, and it’s such a satisfying sound. Killing has always been an easy skill for me. I enjoy it because I’m good at it, but it’s just a job. I don’t make my victims suffer. This…this isn’t a job, and I want him to suffer like I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone before.

  He sways on his feet, blood pouring from both shoulders as he glares at me. “The Bratva will hunt you, little dove,” he says through a grimace.

  I shake my head, stepping closer to him until I can smell the metallic tang of his blood scenting the air. “I don’t think they will. After all, with you dead, their guns and drugs will once again run freely.” I lift an eyebrow and grasp the hilts of both blades yanking them out and crossing them in front of me, lightning fast, splitting his stomach open in a cross from ribs to hip both sides. His eyes go wide and he coughs up blood, staggering for a moment. He collapses to the ground, gasping and twitching like a dying fish.

  I crouch down next to him. “Goodbye, Nicholai.” I lift the blade in the air and drive it down through his throat, severing his spinal cord. That final tell-tale breath leaves his lungs and I fall back on the ground, staring at his lifeless body. Lifting my face, I look around at all the people watching, all the people he hurt. Families ruined, children broken. This was what he deserved. This was justice. And finally…I’m finally free.

  Epilogue

  Nero

  One month later

  I put out my cigarette and push up from my desk, turning off the lamp. I’ve been up late dealing with the fallout of Nicholai’s death, handling Cesare and the Russians. It seems they’re willing to call it quits if we let them trade their guns in our territory. Cesare agreed to it, so for now I have to go with it…at least while the old man still breathes.

  I walk up the stairs and check in on Dante the same way I always do before I go to bed. Instead though, I find Una sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, her head resting on one of the cushions as she cradles Dante in her arms.

  I didn’t even hear her come in. Her and Sasha went out for a job earlier, a ‘quick hit’ as she calls it. Once a killer, always a killer. They get paid well and it feeds her bloodthirsty nature. But fucking Sasha will not use the elevator because he says, and I quote: It’s an ambush waiting to happen. Who thinks like that? He insists they use the stairs. He’s somehow bypassed my alarm. He and Una move like fucking ghosts, so I never know when either of them is going to just pop up.

  Una’s knuckles are split open. Blood splatters adorns her neck, streaking through her white-blonde ponytail. My bloodstained queen, cradling her innocent child. Dante’s little cheek is pressed to her chest, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. I smile and walk over, stroking the downy hair on his head. In the blink of an eye, a .40 Cal is pointed at my head. Of course. Una’s palm is covering the side of Dante’s face as though she would protect his ears from the sound of the shot.

  “Are you ever going to stop pointing guns at me?” I ask her.

  She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes before she tucks the gun beneath the cushions again. “Don’t creep up on me like that.”

  I laugh. “It’s not creeping.” I carefully take Dante from her, more like pry him from her. The kid’s going to get spoilt. She lets him sleep on her every night, even though he sleeps just fine on his own. I lay him down in his crib, and he doesn’t even stir. He sleeps like the dead, and I hope he always does. I hope he never has a care in the world. With Una for a mother, he’ll always be protected, sheltered from the dangers of this world.

  I go to Una and lean over, kissing her. “You can’t sleep in his room for the rest of his life, Morte.”

  “Watch me.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Come on,” I say. She gets up, glancing longingly at Dante before she finally leaves the nursery. She whistles for George. He trots up the stairs, going and curling up right in front of Dante’s cot. That damn dog is almost as attached to him as he is to Una. She insists he sleeps with Dante for protection. What the fuck that dog is going to protect him from, I don’t know.

  As soon as our bedroom door closes, I pick her up, pinning her against the wall. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging hard as she bites her bottom lip. I kiss down the length of her neck, groaning as I inhale the scent of vanilla and gun oil mixed with the metallic twang of blood. It’s fucking hot. I still when I feel the cool kiss of steel at my neck. I pull back and cock a brow at her. Her eyes narrow, a twisted smile playing over her lips. “Don’t do it,” I warn.

  Her violet eyes flash, lust and violence roaring to the surface, and without ever breaking eye contact, she slowly drags the blade along my collar bone before bringing the it to her lips and licking it.

  “Oh, you just love to fucking push me,” I say with a feral growl, yanking her away from the wall and throwing her on the bed.

  She smiles wide because she’s just as fucking depraved as I am. My perfect match, my other half, my vicious little butterfly. My broken, savage queen. There’s no one else who could possibly stand beside me but her.

  “I love you,” she says, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

  I groan, touching my forehead to hers. “I fucking love you, Morte.”

  She may have started as a pawn in a game, but now, she is the crowned queen. She is that which I treasure most. She is my happiness. Even monsters can find their happily ever after.

  THE END

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading!

  I love all my books, and all my characters, but I adore Una and Nero. They are my perfect characters, so awful, but so perfect together.

  Seriously though, thank you. Without you, all of this would be pointless. So thank you for one-clicking. Thank you for reading my work, and thank you for being awesome.

  If you would be amazingly kind and leave a review, I would be so grateful. Leg humps would be owed.

  Acknowledgments

  There are so many people to thank for helping me with Kiss Me, so here it goes.

  Stevie J. Cole, my sister from another mister, my wifey, my best friend, co-author and in this case, editor. I love you more than life babe.

  Big thanks to Tiffany Marie for modelling Una, and Eric Battershell for taking a kick ass picture. Huge thanks to Cassy Roop of Pink Ink designs for designing the cover.

  Thanks to my lovely formatter, Leigh Stone, for making this book look so pretty and professional.

  Huge thanks to Kerry Fletcher, Cara Gadero and Jen Lum for beta reading, and also to Kerry for being an epic PA.

  There are so many blogs and individuals who have helped me along the way and you are all hugely appreciated, but I have to acknowledge one in particular.

  Give Me Books and One-Click Addicts. I love you girls and I couldn’t do this without you. Mummy Kylie, o
rganization queen and actual fucking goddess, thank you for your awesome PR and your ongoing support. You’re a star, and no one else can do what you do.

  There are so, so many people who have helped me, and you know who you are.

  I hope I haven’t missed anyone. Just know that anyone who has ever written a review, posted a teaser, or read any of my books...Thank you. Your ongoing support means the world.

  The Author

  Sign up to LP Lovell and Stevie J. Cole’s newsletter and stay up to date: Join the Mailing List

  Lauren Lovell is a ginger from England. She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.

  She's a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.

  Other books by LP Lovell

  She Who Dares series:

  Besieged #1

  Conquered #2

  Surrendered #3

  Ruined #4

  Wrong Series:

  Wrong

  Wrath

  Standalone:

  Absolution

  High

  Tiger Shark

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lplovellauthor

  Twitter: @Authorlplovell

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7850247.LP_Lovell

  Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/LP- Lovell/e/B00NDZ61P