by Sunniva Dee
As I barge down the street, the door to the church bursts open and shadows leap out. It’s the fastest I’ve ever run. I’m at the car in record time. Sirens wail. I can’t see blinking lights yet. No more shots go off behind me. Now, it’s everyone for themselves, because who the fuck wants to be caught by the LAPD?
Everything in me screams for me to escape while I can. The slave girl I could probably leave behind to save my ass, but not Tatiana. She’s engraved, under my protection now, and she doesn’t even know it.
My father’s suburbans are gone from the parking lot when I return. It’s empty, save for Tatiana, who has the girl leaning against the backside of the dumpster.
“Hurry,” she shouts. I don’t reply. The girl’s eyes are open and blinking slowly. She’s too stunned to be scared, which is good for now. Idly, I acknowledge that I’m adding a lot of inconvenience to my already inconvenienced week by hoisting her into the backseat of the Flying Spur.
Tatiana jumps in next to me, expelling an exasperated sigh. “That was close.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“No. Everyone scattered in minutes, and then the church was quiet.”
“Yeah.” I think of Il Lince, a ruthless leader of the Nascimbeni mafia for decades but also my father. My heart squeezes at the thought of him possibly lying prone inside.
The sirens are going amok. I screech out of the parking lot, take off in the opposite direction; I know the Valley like my back pocket. This isn’t downtown, so back alleys are few, but there are one-way streets, and now I race through one. I dodge a roadblock and fishtail it through the narrow backside of a strip mall.
Tatiana’s hand white-knuckles her door handle, but she doesn’t look scared. We have a few things to discuss when we get to my house.
“Take me to my place.”
I shoot her a look. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. The nuns are waiting for me.”
“Bull. Shit. If the police catch you and tie you to either one of the families you just, let’s say, interacted with, you’re looking at serious interrogations, holding cells, and—if it pleases the LAPD—jail time.”
“I’ll be fine. I can explain myself.”
I shake my head, incredulous. This woman is in serious denial. “Two more reasons why you won’t be…” I re-start the sentence. No need to trigger her instinct to disobey me.
“Two more reasons why you shouldn’t go home right now: one, we need to treat the girl in the backseat; two, there are a couple of dangerous organizations on the lookout for you. You do not want the Santa Colombini or the Mobespierre Sanguine to find you.”
She lets out what could be a chuckle. “Neither of them have time to look for anyone right now. They need to go into hiding.”
“True, but they have, shall we say, ‘associates,’ whom the law is not trying to find, and I promise they’ll give descriptions of everyone involved in the ambush.”
She quiets, staring straight ahead as I jump onto the highway and make a beeline for the first exit toward Hillside. I need a second car. Burnt orange Flying Spurs are not the way to go when everybody and their murderous brother is on the lookout for you.
“Understand? While the core Colombinis and Sanguines hide, their ‘associates’ will be tracking us down.”
“All right, all right!” She throws her hands in the air. “Enough already. I get it. Where are we going?”
“We’re going home to Love Child.” I don’t know why it’s so funny to poke her when she’s worked up.
“Be serious, Isaias,” she growls. I snort; I can count on one hand, maybe one finger, the people who dare to talk to me like that.
“I’m dead serious. My house is a fortress—no one gets in without my invite.”
I have a few extra bedrooms, for parties and the like. Whenever Gioele’s been on a rampage at home and my parents have lost control, he moves in too. My fucking little brother. Dude’s a goddamn handful and a half. And he’ll always have a room at my house. I haven’t had to keep survivors of my father’s “negotiations” here before, though. Guess there’s a first for everything.
I show Tatiana where to find fresh linens. “There are some women’s clothes in the chest of drawers. Should be a dress or two in the closet,” I say, waving toward it.
She half-asses a glare at me while we seat the girl in front of Gabriela’s vanity. Her eyes are too big, like she’s seen more than she can absorb. She has.
“Do I want to know?”
“What?”
“About the women’s clothes in your closets and drawers.”
“Depends,” I say. “Some are my cousin Gabriela’s.”
“Oh.” Tatiana’s crystal-brights soften.
“Some are leftover threads from ex-lovers.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Ha, never. I’ll be back. I need to make a few calls.” I point at the adjoining bathroom. “She looks like she needs a bath.”
“You don’t need to tell me what to do,” Tatiana clips out. So feisty. I bite my lip as I walk out.
There’s a meow at my feet, and I flinch as something races up my pant leg with the world’s sharpest claws. I pop Aurora off me, with a hand over her little back. Then, I pet her belly with one finger while I walk. Her purr is so loud it’s hard to believe it comes from such a small being.
I grab a fresh throwaway from a kitchen drawer.
“Hey. Dad?”
“Son. You okay?”
“Yeah. Everyone else?”
“Mario’s good. Moroder’s hurt, but he’ll be fine. Two down. We got their bodies out of there. On the bright side, we really did some damage.”
“Did you see Bruno?”
“No, son.”
Shit.
“Send a physician to the house, will you?” I ask, rubbing my forehead.
“Did they get you?”
My cheek burns from the bullet grazing me, but that’s not what I need help with. Nothing a little Neosporin can’t fix.
“No, but I’ve got the girl.”
“Which girl? The nun?”
“Tatiana is my friend. She’s here, yes, but I’m talking about the sample.”
“The slave? You took the slave?” He’s definitely unhappy about this.
“Of course, I did. I wasn’t going to leave her behind.”
“She’s a lot of money to them, Isaias. That was a very unwise decision.”
“You’re shitting me, right? There’s going to be hardcore revenge anyway. Your guys mowed down a crap ton of Colombini when they least expected it. They’re gonna need our asses on a plate now.”
“True, but honor and love is one thing. Money is a whole ’nother ballgame.”
I groan. “Anyway. She’s got a tracker in her, and I need it dug out. If that doesn’t happen fast, they’ll be at my door in record time.”
Il Lince goes dead quiet on the other end before an explosion goes off against my eardrum. I pull the phone away, cursing as my father smashes his phone into any hard surface in his immediate vicinity. Yep, that’s where I learned that little trick.
“You got a surgeon on your payroll?” I ask once he’s done.
“I’ll send Dr. Schneider over.”
“Is he good?” I ask.
“You think you can be picky?” His voice is a whip, and I laugh silently. He hates that he didn’t think of the tracker himself.
“All right then.”
“He’ll be there in thirty,” my father tells me, because when Il Lince tells someone to dance, you can be damn sure they dance.
It’s two in the morning, and I’m antsy. Dr. Schneider came by, took one look at the girl, and left for supplies. He needs to put her under to get the tracker out of her side.
I enter the guestroom. She’s dressed in an ankle-long red dress wit
h long sleeves. It’s one of Gabriela’s more demure dresses. It showcases no cleavage but contrasts beautifully with the girl’s dark skin. She’s sitting in front of the mirror. Her eyes aren’t unseeing anymore, but they don’t look at her reflection in the mirror. Instead, her gaze is still on the ice queen behind her.
Only Tatiana isn’t an ice queen right now. She’s as pale as the girl is golden, her mane like wavy brass down her back, playing against the ebony of the victim’s hair. Tatiana is brushing it. It’s still a little wet after her bath. The slow strokes down the other girl’s back must feel like caresses. She looks at Tatiana like she’s her savior.
“Has she spoken yet?” I ask.
“No, she hasn’t.” Tatiana’s attention doesn’t shift from her careful moves over the girl’s hair. It’s a labor of love, and I almost feel like I’ve intruded.
“Can you tell if she understands English?”
“She does. She’s from India, you know. Aren’t you, honey?” Tatiana’s voice changes into a tender murmur on her question.
I approach slowly; I don’t want to frighten the girl. She’s sure to have trust issues right now. I sink to my haunches at her side, making sure I’m lower than her face before I meet her eyes. “My name is Isaias. Tatiana and I are so sorry. Nobody should have to experience what you’ve gone through.”
Her deep brown eyes fill with tears. She doesn’t cry, but her chin begins to tremble.
“It’s over now, though. You’re with us, and you won’t be sold to anyone. Okay?” I resist the urge to pet her knee. “Nobody owns you anymore. Do you understand? We’ll get you back to your home.”
Yes, she definitely understands English. Tears leak down her cheeks. She shifts and looks at me. When she meets my eyes, a flash of fear runs over her features, but then she lets out a sigh that sounds like relief.
“Do you talk?” I ask.
Tatiana emits an impatient huff, but I shrug, arching my brows at her. There are so many reasons why a person won’t talk. Physical reasons, like having issues with their vocal cords or tongue. Emotional reasons, like having been scared to death for a long period of time.
The girl bobs her head cautiously.
“Can you tell us your name?” I tilt my head. Fold my hands in my lap in an attempt to look less menacing.
She clears her throat. “Rain.”
“Rain?” I exchange a glance with Tatiana. “Not lately, but it’s the season.”
“Do you mean your name is Rain?” Tatiana asks.
“Yes. It means ‘abundant blessings from above.’”
“Wow, that’s a beautiful name,” Tatiana murmurs gently. “Your parents did well.”
“I haven’t been so blessed lately.” She’s hoarse. It makes me think she hasn’t used her voice in a while. Or perhaps she’s been screaming more than she’s been talking.
“You were blessed to be the one they took to the church yesterday,” Tatiana says. It’s true and much too crude. Rain must think back to the fourteen pieces of living merchandise still imprisoned where she used to be.
Her hands knot in her lap again as she looks down, a silent tear dripping along her nose and landing on her knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” Tatiana whispers and sinks to her knees beside her. She cups Rain’s face with her hands and meets her forehead with her own. “It’ll be okay, all right? I promise. You’ve got Isaias di Nascimbeni on your side, and he’s not afraid of anyone. He’ll help you. He’ll help them too. We’ll get you all back to where you came from.”
My ice queen, the bella, bellissima, is promising so much more than I can keep, and she’s not even looking at me while she does it. What is it with me and strong-willed women?
The intercom buzzes. “Tatiana, can you get that? It’s probably the doctor.”
She frowns in response, and Rain gasps, eyes darting between Tatiana and me. “No! Please don’t leave?”
“You go get him,” Tatiana clips out.
“I just wanted to explain about the anesthesia.”
Tatiana stands, keeping a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “How about we do this: you open the door and make the doctor wait in the living room until she’s ready.”
I shrug out my agreement.
When I return to the guestroom, I find Rain dissolved on her chair. She has folded in over herself, arms around her legs and hair flowing down her calves. She’s a sobbing, unreachable mess, and I freeze at the sight. “What happened?”
Tatiana pats her back in slow, reassuring strokes. “She’s having a panic attack. She doesn’t like the thought of being put under, and I honestly don’t know what to do.”
I lower to my haunches and put a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “Hey.”
She jolts like she’s been electrocuted, a heart-wrenching keening taking over her vocal cords. It’s so unexpected, my blood runs cold.
I grasp her by the arms. Lift her into a standing position. “Rain? Please, listen to me. We only want what’s best for you.”
“I’ve tried, Isaias. She’s beyond listening.”
Rain shakes her head side to side, until she loses control and the motion becomes erratic. The keening doesn’t stop either. Instead it grows in volume.
Tatiana yells, “Let her go!”
That’s not going to solve anything. I carry her to the smooth part of the wall between the windows, press her up against it with my body, and steady her face with one hand. “You have to listen. It’s good news, Rain. All good!”
Her heart runs amok in her chest. It works so hard, it’s battering against mine, wanting to crash its way out. This can’t be good—it needs to calm down, but she doesn’t stop fighting me. Tatiana shrieks about letting her go, and finally, I’ve had it. I spin around, press Rain against the wall with my back, cage her in with my arms, and shout, “Shut. The fuck. Up!”
My ice queen isn’t made of ice. She’s all fire wanting to burst out and destroy me. Her mouth is open, breathing pure fury, but she doesn’t respond. Behind me, Rain cries, slumping against my back. I keep her there, caging her despair in my safety.
“I need your support, Tatiana! Don’t fight me.”
For a second, Tatiana hesitates. She blinks as she considers. Then, in tentative steps, she moves forward with her eyes on the girl who’s swallowed by my body.
Cautiously, I turn. Rain’s isn’t a good surrender, but it’s happening. I can keep her in check with just my hip and a hand, now, but the expression she wears could shatter a guy’s heart.
Silent sobs wrack her body, and I lift her and set her back down in front of the mirror. I cup her chin from behind and make her find her own reflection.
“You have a tracking device in you. Remember? That tracker makes it so that the Santa Colombini will find you as soon as they start looking for you. Do you understand? That’s what the doctor is here to fix for you. Dr. Schneider is going to remove it. You’ll be free in all senses of the word.”
Rain hiccoughs, eyes widening at me in the mirror. She touches herself, right below the waist on the left side.
“Yes, that’s it.” On instinct, I reach for her. When she winces, I straighten, holding my hands up for her to see. “I’m sorry. I needed you to hear me out. It’s the only reason why I held you still. Did I hurt you?”
She thinks about my question. Then she shakes her head.
“Are you ready to get rid of the tracking device so no one can claim you as their property ever again?” I purse a small smile at her.
For a second, her gaze stills. Then it relaxes, eyes brightening with hope.
I forbade Tatiana to leave the house. Was it to spite me that she did it anyway?
“Why didn’t you ask my permission to let her out?” I cross my arms, fuming at the two men Il Lince has stationed at my house.
The eldest has been with my father since I was little. Now, he lifts
his hands, waving his cigarette in apology. “Cucciolo, we didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to leave.”
“Did you think it was a good idea for anyone to leave this house, with the Santa Colombini hungry for retaliation and Mobespierre Sanguine thirsty for women?”
“But Cucciolo, she—”
“And stop calling me Cucciolo. I’m not Il Lince, much less his lynx cub.”
“Sir.” He dips his head in compliance, furrowed knuckles clenching the butt of his gun. “We only mean it as a tribute.”
“Where did she go?” I bark. Not that he’d know. I rake through my hair. “Did you at least see the direction?”
“There’re only two ways from here…”
“I’m aware: into the mountains or to the Valley.”
“Yes, sir. I think she drove into the mountains. Maybe taking the canyon down to the Pacific Coast Highway?” he suggests, eyes lighting up with hope.
“When did she leave?”
“Around six, sir.”
Tatiana seemed fine while the doctor was here. I showed her a guest room, the pink one, because like an idiot I figured she’d enjoy it with the view of the backyard and the canyon below. She even accepted a kiss before she closed the door to her room.
Fucking smart of her to walk right out the front door though, instead of jumping out the window. They’d have stopped her if she did.
“Wait a minute.” I feel my face scrunch up with misgivings. “She didn’t have a car at the house. How did she get away?”
He’s blushing. Wow, a seasoned old associate is literally blushing. This is not a good sign. “How?”
“She… was picked up. She walked to the gate, and—I guess she called some friends?”
Jesus Christ.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now,” I mutter, haphazardly dumping sugar into my coffee while glaring him down.
“You’re… not Il Lince… or Il Cucciolo?”
“Fuck you, Romano.” I leave him there and stalk to my office. I call Tatiana first, knowing she won’t pick up. Then, I tell McRoy to work from Lucid today. Next, I start making arrangements to get Rain out of my hair. We now know that she’s from a rich family in Mumbai, India, and that she was plucked from a club a month ago.