by SE Chardou
Vincent and Mags snipped back and forth at each while Edward and Cricket tried to come up with viable alternatives of finishing the job ahead of them.
Max wasn’t a fool and knew Angelo was testing them—him more than Mags. He wanted to see how good he truly was at his job. His fiancée might have felt herself awash with feelings now that she was pregnant and hormonal but he was still a stone cold killer. If he had to murder a few innocent bystanders to end Antonio Bassi then he would.
After Mags became fatigued and nauseous, he’d ordered her to rest in the bedroom while he slowly hatched out a workable plan with Edward and Cricket. They’d contacted the Vegas Saints’ chapter, and less than an hour later, a guy built like a brick shithouse with a copious amount of tattoos and a permanent sneer on his face showed up at the penthouse. He wore a plain black zip-up sweatshirt over his cut along with a pair of black jeans that were fitted without appearing tight and black, steel-toed Doc Martens. His dishwater blond hair was cut short but his ice blue eyes were arresting and serious, despite his almost girlish peaches and cream complexion.
Edward made a quick introduction. “Max, this is Pyro. He’s one of the best bomb makers I have ever had the chance to come across.”
Max stared back at Pyro. “Did three tours in Afghanistan and two in Iraq—the latter two as a Merc with Blackstone. I know how to make a bomb so precise, only the intended target will be blown up.”
“You mean like Stallone’s character in The Specialist?” Max said though it sounded more like a statement than a question.
Pyro laughed. “Brother, that movie came out when I was four years old. I enlisted in the Army at eighteen and Blackstone recruited me in 2010. I spent a couple years with the company, made some money and came back to the States. Prospected for the Vegas chapter and have been a full member for two years. I’m good at what I do and rather than risk your fiancée harming anyone than the intended, I’ve come up with the perfect device.”
The biker pulled out a black compact with Max Factor written on the lid. He turned it over and a small button poked out. “Inside is enough to blow the intended’s head clean off. All she has to do is sneak into his room and hide it under his pillow. The moment pressure is put on the pillow, the device will activate and it will blow within three seconds.” He pointed to a small lever. “She has to flip this switch to activate the device and then it’s armed. Think she can do it?”
“At this point, we don’t have much of a choice. We can’t afford to make an enemy out of Angelo.” Max walked to Edward and murmured, “Whatever it costs, let me know. I’ll give you the money in cash once we get back home.”
“Nah, brother, this is on us. You’ll owe us, and we’ll make it very tempting for you to pay your debt back by joining the mother charter as opposed to staying with that twisted psychopath. Dad’s worried about you and wants you away from Abandonato as soon as possible. He won’t lose you a second time.”
Max stared into the identical eyes he possessed and nodded. “Believe me, I understand more than you know.”
The silence of the living room reminded him that conversation had taken place more than three hours ago, and yet, it still reverberated in his mind clearly.
If it were up to him, he would have gladly been the one to risk his life and deliver the bomb but Mags was perfect for the job. Poised, beautiful and elegant, she would fit right in, and would easily be able to slip into places a man would be too conspicuous to carry off.
It still felt like a knife in the heart to send her into the situation at all but they had few options at this point other than to carry out the job, and instead of going back home, they would leave. It wouldn’t be so bad to be away for a while to rest, and know they were completely free from harm. That’s the only thought that sustained him in this awful and completely FUBAR situation.
After ordering room service, he paced the living room. It helped him to concentrate and think about what the best option was for their current predicament. Pyro had given him the device. He could clean up quite nicely; he’d brought a suit for the occasion.
The realization hit him like a punch to the stomach. He couldn’t send Mags into that suite to plant the device. She would serve a better purpose if she aided Vincent and Karina. The two of them couldn’t be left alone with the murder of Marco Bassi on their heads.
Max made the decision right then and there. He and Edward would go to the party together. He’d order his brother a suit and have him watch his back while he planted the device. Meanwhile, Cricket would accompany Mags to help Vincent and Karina. He wanted him there just in case she experienced a case of nausea and wouldn’t be able to see the mission through. Either way, everyone was covered on all fronts.
By the time room service arrived, he heard the soft click of a bedroom door opening and watched as Mags came into the living room. She only wore a skimpy tank top and a pair of shorts. The penthouse suite was suitably warm for this time of the year without being stifling and as she sat down next to him on the sofa, she peered over at the two covered dishes.
“What’d you order?”
“Well, for you, I chose the salmon filet with roasted potatoes and fresh vegetables. For myself, I ordered the filet of beef—medium rare. It comes with the same sides as yours does,” Max explained as he took off the metal tops to reveal two, succulent plates of food.
Mags gave him a look, her green-gray eyes bright yet pleading. “I’ll trade you.”
He gazed back at her with a hungry look in his eyes. “What do I get for this trade, Ms. Reynolds?”
“I don’t know . . .” She trailed off as her fingers played over his bare chest before making circles around his spider tattoo on his right shoulder, and moving her fingers softly down his deltoid and bicep muscles. “What do you want? I give great head—or so I have been told by my fiancé. And after tonight, well, the word is truly ours. We can do whatever we like. Go anywhere we want. We’ll be free again like we were in the beginning. Don’t you crave that excitement the same way I do?”
“Yes, I do, which is why I have made a decision about tonight.” Max handed her his plate of filet mignon and took the plate of salmon. “I understand what Angelo has planned, and perhaps he formed the perfect plan because he knew I wouldn’t allow you to follow through with this new game changer.”
Mags sliced off a piece of the filet mignon and stuffed it into her mouth followed by potatoes and vegetables. “Mmm, so good.”
“Are you listening to me?”
She nodded her head affirmatively while she continued to devour the food on her plate.
“So, here’s what’s gonna happen. Edward will accompany me to Antonio Bassi’s New Year’s Eve party and I will assassinate him but not before I find out some information that has been bothering me. You will accompany Cricket and help out Vincent and Karina. It’s the only viable option at this point. I won’t allow you to be put in the line of fire.” Max finally dug into his salmon and tasted one of the delectable potatoes on his plate. The food, like the hotel, was top shelf, and extremely delicious to the point of being decadent.
“Okay,” Mags said after she’d swallowed and drank half a bottle of water.
“That’s it? No complaints or objections what so ever?”
She shook her head. “I learned a long time ago that complaining is absolutely pointless when it comes to you so why bother? Besides, I’d rather help out Vincent and Karina anyway. I don’t think two people are enough to take that guy down, not when he has bodyguards. This whole bait and switch my uncle pulled was the last straw. I’ll smile and fake my devotion for him if I have to but I will never forgive him for what he did to my brother and me.”
“Then we have a deal?”
“Yes, we have a deal. Now all you have to do is inform all the parties involved about the change of plans.”
Max looked at her with bright aquamarine eyes. “That won’t be hard.”
Max looked around the room, he and Edward the only one dressed to the
nines. Both Mags and Vincent kept it casual, or their idea of casual. His fiancée wore a Versace printed silk dress, which didn’t cling to her curves though it ended just above the knee. Paired with black Christian Louboutin stilettos, she still looked sexy, and her outfit was ideal for hiding her micro Desert Eagle .380 pistol. With only six rounds and an extra clip in her black clutch purse, she knew she would have to make every bullet count.
Vincent complimented her in a pair of black, fitted Dolce & Gabbana jeans, a dark purple cashmere sweater and a pair of black Chuck Taylors. They looked like the perfect hipster couple but standing side-by-side, it was obvious to Max they were siblings. They had the same nose, and facial bone structure though Vincent was the fairer of the two, his skin the color of peaches and cream as opposed to Mag’s light olive complexion.
Cricket was dressed as a casual partygoer in a pair of slightly baggy blue jeans, black Korn concert t-shirt and a pair of steel-toed shitkickers. Although his tats were visible, none of his club ink was and therefore he looked like a young guy ready for a night out on the town.
Pyro had decided to stick around and was dressed similar to Cricket. Although it would be impossible for him to get anywhere near the upscale event Max and Edward were going to, he planned to play lookout and alert them to any dangers while he pretended to be just another New Year’s Eve reveler.
“Okay, this is how it’s gonna go down,” Max began as he glanced at them all. “Cricket, Edward—I want you to alert Miranda and Chantal to get their asses here to the penthouse. Once we pull this off, the rooms won’t be safe and that’s the first place they’ll come lookin’. This penthouse suite isn’t in our name so we don’t have to worry about any blowback as long as we can get back here without anyone following us.”
He stared at Mags, Vincent and Cricket. “Mags, I want you and Cricket to help back up Karina. I know she’s supposed to murder Marco Bassi with a killer cocktail and then strangle him with a pillow but she’s thin, and he might be able to overpower her even as he’s dying. She’s using Oxycontin to put his ass to sleep but there’s no guarantee he’ll finish the cocktail or how long he’ll be passed out.”
“I told her to use both Oxy and Vicodin. The guys a druggie and has been hooked on prescription pills for years,” Vincent informed. “If he’s drinking too, it might slow him down but not if he has a high enough tolerance for the shit. I brought my Gen 4 Glock 22 with me just in case. I can use a pillow as a makeshift suppressor and Cricket is also packing. Any sign of a struggle, and we’re all going in and gettin’ Karina the fuck out of there.”
Max nodded his head. “Sounds like a plan. It’s eleven fifteen. I want everyone to check in with me no later than twelve-thirty, is that understood?”
Everyone nodded in response.
“Sweetie, how are you feeling? If you’re not up to this, you can stay here.”
Mags glanced back at him with a look of determination in her gorgeous eyes. “I wouldn’t miss this for all the money in the world. I’m pregnant—not handicapped—and I can carry my own weight. I need to do this if only to prove to myself I still have it in me.”
Max looked at her with resignation. “I’m just saying . . . the last assignment almost broke you. I would hate for anything like that to happen again.”
“It almost broke me because of who the victim was, but I have zero allegiance to the Bassi family. I don’t even know them except in passing. Helping to murder Marco will not affect how I sleep at night, Max.”
“In that case, let’s get this show on the road,” Edward spoke up. “The sooner we dispatch of these motherfuckers, the sooner we can celebrate New Year’s and get the hell out of here tomorrow night.”
Mags, Vincent and Cricket left the penthouse suite moments later while Max, Edward and Pyro stood in the living room.
“You ready for this, brother?”
Max stared at his fraternal twin. “Yeah. Let’s get this over and done with. We’ve waited long enough. I only hope I did the right thing—changin’ up plans the way I did. I know Mags was perfect for the job but I couldn’t put her life at risk. Not for this. She means everything to me and a part of me would die if anything happened to her or the baby.”
Edward placed a calloused hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Cricket and Vincent will take good care of her. She’s safe, brother. You just worry about what we have to do and everything will be all right.”
Max turned toward his brother and smiled. “You’re right.”
Pyro tapped his watch. “Time to go.”
“Let’s go kill this guinea motherfucker,” Edward said in a commanding tone.
Max nodded before the three men left the suite, closing the door softly behind them.
Chapter Fifteen
Mags
I’d lied to Max with a straight face.
I didn’t feel well at all and waves of nausea rolled over me as Vincent, Cricket and I took the elevator down to the ground floor.
There was nothing physically wrong with the baby or me. I’d called my OB-GYN in a panic earlier that day after I woke up and he assured me the baby was fine. My nausea was normal and based upon my family history, it seemed like a strange phenomenon only experienced when the women in my family were pregnant with girls. It should disappear after the fourth month and I would feel much better after that.
Despite a satisfying dinner of filet mignon, potatoes and vegetables, I was starving. I hadn’t told Max the nausea had forced me to the bathroom and my dinner ended up in the toilet after a wave of dizziness left me vomiting while hugging the damn commode. After a shower and brushing my teeth, I felt only slightly better but not nearly well enough to do this job.
However, I couldn’t shirk my responsibilities and a part of me felt responsible for Karina. Not only was she my brother’s wife and my sister-in-law but she and my fiancé shared a bloodline, even if it was only through their mother. I’d murdered Mila, and it’d haunted me for too long. I had to get back in the game and prove I could do my job flawlessly and with the cold professionalism I’d been known for all these years.
Nausea or not, it wouldn’t stop me from doing whatever I had to do to get through this night. It wasn’t something I had to do for Vincent, Karina or even Max. This was an assignment I had to complete for my own peace of mind. If I failed at this then it proved I was a has been, and no longer capable of doing what I’d been trained to do. I would have to hang it up, and watch by the sidelines as Max continued to do what we were both known for. That was unacceptable to me; I’d rather be an old lady than a washed up assassin.
If there was one thing I feared more than losing Max, it was failure. I was Sophia and Riggs Reynolds daughter after all. There was no such thing as can’t and I wouldn’t buy into it now. Mind over matter had to come into play so I pushed down all thoughts of feeling like crap and focused on what I had to do.
The moment we walked across the enclosed skywalk from The Cosmopolitan and entered The Florentine, adrenaline spiked in my veins like a shot of cocaine. I was acutely aware of my surroundings, and for the first time, I realized I hadn’t lost my touch.
Fear had paralyzed me for so long but it wouldn’t win out tonight. I had too much on the line and there were too many important people involved in this assignment. I refused to allow even one of us to die, and the thought centered my mind. I focused on nothing but the job as we took the elevator up to the floor where Marco was staying. His suite was luxurious and extravagant but nothing close to what his uncle experienced as a guest in one of the penthouse suites.
I knew his type too well. Spoiled, entitled and sloppy, he’d gotten over on his good looks, family name and money his whole life. He wouldn’t know an honest job if it slapped him in the face. The youngest of four boys, not much was expected of him, and he pretty much got to do whatever he wanted.
Apparently the loss of Karina had smarted his pride because the moment she stepped into his life again, he took her back without reservations. She’d secretly sen
t texts to Vincent all afternoon, and he informed both Cricket and me of what she had to say.
He was high and had pretty much been drinking and drugging all day. They hadn’t left the suite because he wanted Karina all to himself but he did plan to do a little gambling after the New Year festivities had died down.
This was our one and only shot.
We approached his suite with trepidation before Cricket pulled out a keycard. “I had it cloned this afternoon. This will get us into his room—”
“No,” I interrupted and snatched the keycard from his hand. “It’ll get me into the room. You see those two bodyguards hovering around his suite? You two take care of them while I’m inside.”
“How do you plan to get past them?” Vincent questioned, a slight tremor in his tone.
“I’m a woman,” I merely replied before I walked with confidence toward Marco’s suite. The bodyguards looked at me but apparently they didn’t think I was an issue until I stopped in front of them.
“Move along, lady. Private party goin’ on in this suite,” one of them replied from the corner of his mouth.
“I know. I was invited as well.” I smiled and flashed the gold keycard with The Florentine written in fancy cursive. “Are you going to let me pass or shall I call up Mr. Bassi and let him know I couldn’t make it because two meatheads wouldn’t let me through?”
The other bodyguard looked at me suspiciously and pulled out his cell phone before the other one stopped him. “Let her through. He’s got Theo, Lorenzo, and Mikey in the room with him. What the hell is this chick gonna do? If she wants to join in on the fun then let her.”
My mind began to race. Three bodyguards were inside the suite with him? What the hell were they doing there? Watching? Guarding? Or . . ?