Operation Wolf: Eli (Wolf Elite Book 2)

by Sedona Venez

  “I’m clean,” Ian assured me, holding up his hands. “I swear.”

  “I believe you,” I said slowly.

  I thought for a moment and then continued, “I don’t know what the plan is just yet. I’ve got to make a few phone calls first. But if you’re clean tomorrow, then I’ll tell you what’s up. I could really use your help.”

  “Okay, man,” Ian agreed, nodding his head. “I’ve got your back. I promise.”

  * * *

  “So, let me get this straight,” Hunter remarked on the other end of the line. “You’re in trouble with the Mafia? And you need cash in order to bail yourself out?”

  “No,” I corrected. I was leaning against a building a few blocks away from my apartment. I wouldn’t put it past Nick or Jack to put an audio or video device in my apartment. “I am part of the Mafia, and I’ve been ordered to kidnap a friend of mine. I need to get her to safety before they figure out what I’m up to and send someone else after her instead.”

  “Jesus, Eli.” I could practically hear Hunter shaking his head. “How the fuck did you get yourself into this mess? And how come you didn’t ask any of us for help in the beginning? I—”

  “Look,” I interrupted, “not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. I grew up on the streets, and I’m not used to asking for help. It’s just not easy for me, Hunter.” I paused. “But I can’t let anything happen to this girl. I just can’t.”

  “A girl?” Hunter sounded intrigued. “Or a woman?”

  “Does it really matter?” I asked with a sigh.

  “You got it,” Hunter relented. “I’ll send you the money first thing in the morning. But I really think it would just be easier if you—”

  “No.” I cut him off. “I’m not taking her to your place, Hunter. The last thing I need is the mob coming down on you and your family for this.”

  “Okay, I get it. But would you consider a safe house?”

  “That’s exactly my plan,” I answered.

  CHAPTER 6

  Olivia

  I WAS EXHAUSTED BUT satisfied when I got off the plane from Paris. I’d spent the past month studying there as a graduate student participating in the Chicago-Paris Exchange program—visiting the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay; painting iconic scenes, such as the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower; and doing touristy things, like strolling down the Champs-Élysées and visiting Disneyland Paris.

  Being a graduate art student certainly has its perks. And it sure as hell beats my former life as a burned-out marketing executive.

  I grabbed my luggage from baggage claim and headed through customs and out of the terminal to catch a cab. A small part of me wished Dad were here to pick me up instead of living it up in his Mexican villa, but I knew such ideas were wishful thinking. For all intents and purposes, he was enjoying himself, but I knew he was really hiding out there, and I’d refused to put my pursuit of a master of fine arts degree on hold for him, even though he’d begged me to come live with him.

  It was annoying and frustrating that he refused to accept I was thirty-two years old and wasn’t his little girl anymore. But I also knew he was worried about me, especially after I’d resigned from my six-figure marketing job with a cushy corner office. Dad thought I was going through some “emotional crisis”—after Mom’s passing away from cancer had shattered my world—but I called it an “emotional awakening.”

  Mom’s death had forced me to evaluate what was really important to me, and it damn sure wasn’t spending the rest of my life miserable, with my -think-about-work mental switch permanently on, constantly considering the next email to send, or on my laptop or phone, tackling my massive to-do list. I’d desperately needed to change my mind-set, and I longed to truly enjoy my life. So, I’d untethered from the corporate world, went back to school to pursue a master’s degree in fine arts, travel, and planned to eventually settle into the career I’d always dreamed of as an artist. Luckily, I was financially able to do all those things with the money I’d saved while working corporate, along with the life insurance settlement mom left me.

  It didn’t take me long to grab a cab, and soon, I was whizzing through the streets of Chicago. The nightlife was in full swing now, and I knew if I rolled down my window, I would hear jazz music and laughter and smell the faint whiff of cigarette smoke and, sometimes, something stronger in the air. As much as crime continued to ride this city, I still loved Chicago, and I wouldn’t leave it for anything.

  “Can I help you with your bags, miss?” the cab driver asked as he pulled up to my apartment complex.

  “No, thank you,” I said with a polite smile as I paid him and stepped out of the cab. It wasn’t that I couldn’t use the assistance, it was more that I didn’t want a stranger knowing where I lived. It didn’t pay to act like a fool when one lived in the most violent city in America. I hefted my luggage and headed inside. Once there, I stepped into the elevator, riding it up to the third floor.

  The door slid open, and I dragged out my luggage. I sighed in relief when I reached my apartment. Fishing my keys out of my coat pocket, I opened the door and closed and locked it behind me.

  My immediate plan of action is to dump my bags right inside the door and go soak in a hot bath before bed. I’ll handle everything else tomorrow, but right now, I desperately want to decompress after the long flight.

  Flipping on the light, I intended to do just that, but I screamed as I caught sight of a figure sitting on my couch. “Oh my fucking God!” I rushed behind the kitchen counter and snatched a large blade from the knife block, brandishing it at the intruder. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Whoa, whoa!”

  The figure stood up, and I saw it was a rail-thin man dressed in a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket. His pale blond hair was slicked back, and I could tell from the slight bulge in his jacket that he was carrying, though I supposed I had to give him points for not drawing it on me.

  “Hang on there, miss. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Who sent you here?” I asked, my voice steady despite my shaking hand. “I can tell you’re a gangster, so who? The Gaylords? The Royals? The Kings? Spit it out!” I was fairly familiar with the gangs all jockeying for position in Chicago, and it wasn’t the first time any one of them had targeted a family member of the Italian mob.

  “The Outfit.”

  I was so surprised I nearly dropped my knife. “The Outfit?” I repeated faintly. “What does the Outfit want with me?” A chill ran through my bones as a horrible possibility occurred to me. “Did something happen to my father?”

  “You could say that,” the man said carefully.

  “What? What’s happened? Is he dead?”

  The man shook his head. “Your father’s alive and well, Miss Giordano. But his recent actions have made the Outfit a little angry, and they’re retaliating. My friend and I have orders to kidnap you and hold you for ransom until your father pays up the money he owes.”

  “So, you are here to hurt me.” I raised the knife again, my knuckles whitening as I tightened my grip. The metal studs on the wooden handle dug into my palm, but I didn’t care. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned. “My father taught me knife throwing when I was seven years old.” Actually, I’d taught myself, but Dad had been in one of his rare good moods when he found out. He’d actually rewarded me by taking me out for ice cream instead of grounding me, as he’d usually done whenever I did something unladylike.

  The man nodded slowly. “Your father’s a good man, Miss Giordano. One of my friends in the Outfit thinks so especially, and he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. We’ve arranged safe transport to get you out of here, and I was sent to make sure we got to you first before someone else from the Outfit did, someone who wasn’t quite as loyal to your father.”

  My eyes narrowed. “How the hell am I supposed to believe that crock of shit? Why shouldn’t I just assume that you’re here to kidnap me as you were ordered?”

  He shrugged. “You
could do that, I guess,” he said. “But I’m here to help you, not kidnap you, and if you kill me, the Outfit will just send someone else after you. You don’t really lose anything by coming with me. If I’m telling the truth, you go to safety. And if I’m lying, you go to the mob, where you’ll end up anyway if you do put that knife in my throat.”

  I sighed and placed the knife back in the block. “Okay, fine.” I wasn’t sure if I trusted this man, but I knew he was right. “What do I do now?”

  I started to grab a suitcase, but he shook his head.

  “Better not,” he said, moving past me and to the door. “If anyone’s watching and they see you carrying a suitcase, they’ll get suspicious. Now, come on,” he said, holding the door open. “We’re going for a ride.”

  * * *

  I was forced to allow this man to escort me to the car as he held a gun to my back with one hand and gripped my arm with the other. It was all for appearances, he told me as he approached the black Mustang waiting at the curb. But it certainly didn’t make me feel better, especially when he shoved me into the back seat and restrained my hands with zip ties before slamming the door shut behind me.

  “Is all this really necessary?” I hissed, struggling to get myself into an upright position as the man slid into the driver’s seat.

  He responded by reaching behind and pressing me back down. “Stay down,” he ordered. “This has got to be convincing.”

  He peeled away from the curb, throwing me onto the seat, and I tried desperately to wedge myself against the upholstery by pressing my foot on the back of the driver’s seat. It helped some but not much as he continued to race through the streets like a maniac, whipping the car around corners at speeds that didn’t seem possible.

  “Slow down!” I shrieked.

  “No way!” He laughed as he rocketed down an alleyway. “I never get to drive the ’Stang, so I’m taking advantage while I still can!”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh God! I’m being rescued by a maniac. The cops are going to be on him any minute for speeding. What will he do when they find me in the back seat? Although, on second thought, that might actually be good for me.

  Suddenly, the car came to a halt in the middle of an alley. I finally managed to lever myself up to see that both ends were blocked off by trucks, and a silver Cadillac had pulled up alongside us.

  “What the hell?”

  “Time to make a switch.” He jumped out of the car with a grin. Then he pulled open the back door, cut the zip ties on my hands, and hauled me out. “Let’s go,” he said as he handed off the keys to a man who’d jumped out of one of the semitrucks. He flung open the rear door of the Cadillac and pushed me inside. Then he stuck his head in and yelled, “Good luck!” before slamming the door and running off to jump into the cab of one of the waiting semis.

  “Jesus Christ.” Finally, I was able to get my bearings and strap myself into the seat belt this time as the car zoomed off.

  The semitruck that had blocked the entrance after we came into the alley was now gone, and we zipped out onto the street.

  “I know it’s easier said than done, but try to stay calm.” Sky-blue eyes stared at me from the rearview mirror, eyes I knew as well as I knew my own, accompanied by a voice I never thought I’d hear again. “It’s good to see you, Olivia.”

  “Oh my fucking God,” I shrieked, bracing myself against the seat. “Eli?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Olivia

  “WHAT . . . WHAT THE FUCK?” I exploded. “Eli . . . you—I—what are you doing here?”

  “Saving you from your father’s fuck-up,” Eli replied, his eyes on the road.

  His face was deadly serious as he drove. I saw his eyes occasionally flick from side to side in the rearview mirror in a way that told me he was looking for enemies.

  “The mob is pissed at your father. He owes them a shit-ton of money and is refusing to pay up.”

  “How do you know they’re telling the truth?” I demanded, instantly defensive of my dad. While I never truly approved of his actions or was interested in following in his footsteps in any way, in my mind’s eye, he was an honorable family man and loving father, and I didn’t want to hear anyone speak ill of him. “Maybe they just want to take a bigger bite out of him than they have a right to, and he’s standing up to them.”

  “That could be,” Eli said quietly, “but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re after him and that your father’s grandstanding has put you in grave danger.”

  I was silent for a long moment as I processed that. There was no refuting Eli’s words. My dad had put me in danger by refusing to pay the mob, and I knew, regardless of his reasons, he certainly had the money. He’d made a killing off the casinos. A headache began to pound at my temples, and I rubbed them in an attempt to stop it.

  Why did Dad have to get himself into these damn situations?

  It was times like these when I wished Mom were still alive so I could talk to her. Mom, Angelique, had always known exactly what to say or do to comfort me. My heart still ached at the loss of my mom. It had been over two years, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  “How do you know all of this anyway?” I finally asked. “I thought you were supposed to be in the Army, tramping away in the South American jungles or something.” Away from me. “How could you have any idea about any of this?”

  Eli sighed. “I’ve been back for over a year, Olivia. I’m working for the mob.”

  I gasped. “But I thought you got away so you could leave all of that behind you and start a better life. I thought that’s why you . . .” Why you left me.

  I’d been willing to let Eli go because I thought it would mean a better life for him. Now that I knew he’d been planning to come back all along . . .

  “It’s not that simple, Olivia,” Eli said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t intend to go back to organized crime, but . . . you know how persuasive the mob can be when they want something.”

  “Oh yeah, right,” I said.

  Then I screamed as Eli suddenly slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting an SUV that had come out of nowhere. I was thrown forward, my seat belt cutting into my throat with bruising force, and then catapulted into the door as the car spun out of control. My whole world was thrown into chaos as we flipped once and then twice.

  My last thought before I hit my head and blacked out was that if we ever got out of this alive, I was going to fucking kill Eli.

  CHAPTER 8

  Eli

  FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!

  I cursed and raged as I struggled to disentangle myself from the seat belt. The shiny silver Cadillac I’d rented using Hunter’s money was totaled, lying upside down in the grass just off the shoulder of the highway, and from the click of the guns I’d heard outside, I knew my troubles were far from over.

  With one last resounding curse, I tugged myself from the wreckage and stood. If I were a normal human, I’d have had a cracked skull and broken ribs, but I’d made sure to fuel up with tons of meat before this little operation, so I was healing pretty fast. Nevertheless, a dizzy spell hit me, and I groaned, leaning against the car for balance. Fear for Olivia’s life nearly drove me to my knees, but I fought the impulse to check on how she was doing. There would be time enough for that later . . . if we survived this.

  “Nice try, McCauley,” a voice drawled. Nick Santorini stepped into the light of the high beams, along with two other men. “But we figured you might try to pull a stunt like this, and I came prepared. I have to admit, it was pretty clever, and it’s a damn shame you can’t play for our team because you’d have been pretty valuable.” He cocked the gun, aiming it at me. “Not many of us could remain standing after such a spectacular car wreck. But business is business, and you’ve got to go.”

  He fired the gun, but I was already gone, halfway across the distance between the car and Nick, my claws and fangs extending. My inner beast roared in challenge, delighting in the fear in Nick’s face as his cheeks blanched an
d eyes widened. In the next second, I was sinking my fangs into the capo’s jugular and ripping out his windpipe. Another shot fired from Nick’s gun, but it went wild, ricocheting off a headlight, and then his entire body went limp in my arms.

  “And that,” I said, lifting my head and baring my bloody canines at the other two men, “is why they call me The Beast.”

  One of the men turned tail and ran, but the other raised his gun and fired. I heaved Nick’s body up like a meat shield to deflect the shot and then lunged for the man before he could fire another, giving him the same treatment as his boss. The second man had nearly reached the SUV before I caught up with him, and he received a quick, relatively painless death in the form of a broken neck.

  Snarling, I tossed the body aside and then returned to the SUV. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself, but I couldn’t quite get my canines and claws to retract. My adrenaline was too high, the danger still far too real. Eventually, I gave it up and ripped the back door of the Cadillac off its hinges, so I could check and see if Olivia was alive.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw she was lying on what was now the ceiling of the vehicle instead of hanging upside down and being strangled to death. She must have somehow hit the release on her seat belt. Moving in for a closer look, I saw blood trickling from her scalp, and when I pulled up her shirt, I grimaced at the bruising around her abdomen.

  “Broken rib cage,” I muttered. “Damn it.”

  Carefully, I lifted her into my arms but stilled as she cried out in pain. Her gorgeous gray eyes flew open and then widened in horror as she stared at my bloody face.

  “Monster!” she gasped. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, removing her from the vehicle and heading for the SUV. But the accusation stung, no matter that it was true. I’d never wanted Olivia to see me as a monster, which was one of the reasons I’d made sure not to allow her to catch sight of me when I came back to town.