No Fury

by Tabatha Kiss

  “If you’re out there, please contact me,” he begs, staring directly at the camera and into my eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences lately, honey, but please... Just let me know that you’re okay. All right?”

  I bite my lip, feeling a touch of sympathy for the man. We’ve barely spoken since I came back from Iowa with Fox. I walked into the house with Fox’s hand in mine and my father knew exactly where I’d been... and what I’d been doing for the two weeks I was alone with him. He ordered me to stay away from Fox and get back to work. Meeting with Bruckberg on Tuesday. Get your hair done before then. Black hair makes you look like a whore.

  I told him I wouldn’t be needing his services anymore. I packed a few things and walked out. I was a girl in love. I didn’t care about anything else but that. I had Fox, at last. Nothing else mattered.

  “Mr. Roberts, do you think your daughter’s disappearance is connected to Snake Eyes again?”

  He drops his head. “I don’t know.”

  Another reporter pushes forward, blocking my father’s path. “Don’t you find it a little suspicious that two people have been brutally killed around her in the exact same way?” he shouts. “Is your daughter involved with them?”

  “I don’t know, but...” My father pauses, his face hardening as he looks into the camera again. “If you bastards do have my daughter, I will find you. Do you hear me? If you so much as lay a finger on her, so help me God, I will take you down.”

  He pushes through the crowd of reporters as they urge him to answer more questions but he continues on with his head bowed a little deeper.

  I suppose it is a little suspicious. First, it was Senator Lamb. He didn’t do anything wrong. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Lena. Same thing.

  The common denominator is me. If I were superstitious, I’d stay the hell away from me.

  “Eighteen-fifty,” the guy behind the counter says.

  I snap out of my trance and lay a twenty on the counter from the stack of bills in my pocket. Pay for everything with cash. Leave no trail.

  “You can keep the change,” I mutter as I grab everything and take off outside.

  “Okay, be safe,” I hear Caleb say as I lower down into the driver’s seat. “I love you.”

  She mouths the name Boxcar at me and I smile as I fill the cup holders with twenty-ounce sodas and packs of licorice.

  “Super safe,” she says. “Stay with Fox.”

  She lowers the phone, flips it closed, and lets out an epic sigh as she rests her head back against the seat.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask as I slide the baseball cap off.

  “Yeah,” she answers as she grabs a candy wrapper and rips it open with her teeth. “They made it to Boston.”

  I nod. “That’s good.”

  “Did you hear from Fox?” she asks. “Figured he might have called. You were in there a while.”

  “No,” I answer. “Just a slow check-out guy.”

  “Fox is kind of a no-news-is-good-news kind of dude anyway, isn’t he?”

  I swallow hard. “I guess so.”

  Caleb chomps into a piece of licorice. “Where to now?”

  I settle into my seat and reach to turn the ignition. “We hit the highway and head east. Stop only to eat and sleep,” I say, quoting Fox.

  “And this Clark lady will be okay with us showing up unannounced?” she asks, chewing softly.

  “I’m sure she will be,” I say, smiling. “She didn’t even blink when I showed up with Fox at five in the morning, bleeding and dying.”

  She’s nods respectfully. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

  “Mrs. Clark is good people. We’ll be okay there.”

  Caleb shimmies downward into her seat and reaches for her Kindle again. “Let’s get going, then,” she says. “Onward toward Iowa.”

  I throw the car into reverse and nod. “Onward,” I repeat.

  Seventeen

  Lucy

  You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’re in way over your head?

  Welcome to my life.

  I’m used to change. You don’t get raised by a serial gambler without embracing change. Things go missing. Promises get broken. You learn fast how to roll with the punches but none of the shitty things my dad ever did compare to what happened to me three months ago.

  Fuck. Has it really only been three months?

  Marty Zappia killed my father and took my knee. Dante dragged me limping and screaming out of Chicago. From concrete jungle to lakeside paradise in only a few hours.

  So, yeah. Change and I are buddies. Old friends, even. And yet, I can’t help but get sideswiped at every possible turn. I even have the audacity to be surprised.

  At least, I have Dante.

  But how long until that changes, too?

  I look over at him from my seat by the window. He sits with his head back and eyes closed. At least one of us can relax.

  I’m not a big fan of heights but Dante made me take window seat with that protective look in his eyes. I guess it’s hard to attack the pretty dancer when there’s a giant hitman sitting between you and her.

  I glance around the plane at the other first-class passengers. The red eye flight to London was the only one available at such short notice. The lights are turned down low, giving everyone who can a chance to get some sleep. One or two lights stay on, softly illuminating the seats beneath them.

  One of them belongs to Boxcar across the aisle. I watch his hands tap his laptop keyboard, moving so fast I can’t keep up with what he’s typing. Fox sits beside him with dark shadows fallen over his eyes but I can see that they’re open. He stares straight ahead with the occasional glance at Boxcar’s computer screen.

  Lilah and Archer sit behind us. Her head lies on his shoulder and his head sits on hers. Both fast asleep as if nothing is wrong at all; as if we all didn’t just commit passport fraud to flee the country under the Boss’ nose.

  The plane lurches slightly and my stomach shifts. Probably shouldn’t have eaten that overpriced turkey sub at the airport.

  “Lucy.”

  I flinch and look at Dante again. His right eye slowly opens and his magnetic blue iris peeks out at me.

  “You should be sleeping,” he says.

  I chuckle. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get right on it.”

  He exhales and sits up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing—”

  I clench as the plane shakes again.

  His head tilts with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying.”

  “I’m not scared,” I say quickly.

  “Lucy Vaughn, the foul-mouthed dancer from Chicago, is scared of heights?”

  “No.” I exhale hard. “Maybe a little. I don’t know. I was fine earlier, I just…”

  He turns up his right hand and I release my iron grip on the armrest to take it. His large fingers circle my entire hand, holding tightly.

  “You’ll feel better once we’re on the ground again,” he says. “Just a few more hours.”

  “Yeah, if we even make it.” My eyes flick toward the closed window but I squeeze them shut. “There’s a… lot of water down there.”

  He chuckles. “Luce—”

  “Aren’t you nervous?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Didn’t you hear the lady before?” he asks. “Your seat is a flotation device.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, sure, but I doubt that makes a difference if the cabin splits in half and I’m jettisoned out at thirty-thousand feet.”

  “The cabin will not split in half,” Dante says. “You will not be jettisoned out at thirty-thousand feet.”

  “But what if I am?”

  “Then, I’ll save you.”

  I look at him and he stares back at me, completely serious. As nonsensical as it may seem, it soothes me and a little bit of my fear goes away.

  I breathe out. “I’m not really scared of the cabin sp
litting in half,” I admit. “I don’t know why I even said that.”

  He nods. “I know.”

  His hand squeezes mine a little tighter.

  “I’m just…” My voice falls.

  “I know,” he says again. “You’re going to be okay, Lucy.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” I say. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Fox and I have everything under control,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to worry about—”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  He pauses and stares forward with a creased brow.

  I hesitate. “You’ve barely slept since Elijah—”

  “I barely sleep anyway,” he argues. “You know that.”

  “That’s not true. It may have been true before, but since we moved to the lake, you’ve gotten better. You weren’t a…”

  “A what?” he asks without looking.

  “A killer anymore,” I whisper. I swallow the lump in my throat. “When we met, you told me that’s all you were. I’d look in your eyes and I wasn’t sure who or what was staring back at me.”

  “Is that all you’re worried about, Luce?” he asks, his voice dry and cold. “I don’t recall you having a problem with it when you wanted to kill Marty.”

  I lean back. “I love you, Dante. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. And, you’re right, I didn’t have a problem with it. I was blinded by vengeance and anger. I couldn’t even recognize myself but you pulled me back. I don’t want you to fall into a place that I can’t pull you back out of again.”

  Dante releases my hand. “You should get some sleep.”

  “Are you gonna be here when I wake up?” I ask.

  He exhales hard through his nose and closes his eyes. “Yes,” he answers.

  I stare at him for another minute. I haven’t seen this Dante in a long time. Dante the mob hitman. The man who bullied my father into letting him spend the night with me. I hated him then. Even if I couldn’t resist him, I hated him.

  We escaped that life. After that, he was sweet and kind. He picked me up when I couldn’t walk. He held me when the pain wouldn’t stop.

  The killer was dead.

  But he didn’t stay that way and that’s my fault.

  Dante told me that once I opened that door, it wouldn’t close again.

  I should have listened.

  Eighteen

  Sofia

  I tip my watering can, pouring a little more into my flowerbed. A gust of cool wind tickles my cheeks as I soak the dark soil. I take a deep breath of it, feeling it warm me all the way down to my toes.

  We’re going to get him.

  It’s hard not to get my hopes up but I can’t help it.

  We couldn’t have found Gio at a better time.

  I glance over at Lucian as he reaches up to grab my garden shears off the bench beside me.

  “Lucian…” I scold. “Non toccarlo.”

  He obeys and drops his hands, looking painfully dejected. It stabs my heart and I sigh, setting the watering can down on the bench.

  “Come here,” I say in a soothing voice.

  He steps forward as I bend to one knee and takes my extended hand.

  “I’m sorry, piccola luce.” I poke his nose. “Are you thirsty?”

  He nods.

  I scoop him off the ground and hug him against me. “Let’s go get some juice from babushka, yes?”

  His smile turns up instantly and I chuckle with him as I walk inside.

  The house is quiet, but not eerily so as it often was back on the Zappia estate. The usual security has gathered with Luka and Yuri in the security wing, each one being briefed and updated on the Gio situation.

  We’re going to get him.

  I kiss my beautiful son’s head. Soon, he’ll wake up in a world without Gio in it. Memories of his former life in the Zappia family will fade away completely, if they haven’t already. With Gio gone, they’ll never to come back either.

  And I will sleep soundly again.

  I step into the kitchen with Lucian and my eyes catch Nina and Markov standing beside each other near the counter. I open my mouth to greet them but I instantly stop as his lips graze the dimples in her smiling cheeks.

  Nina’s hands fall from his sides the second she sees me but the bright rouge in her cheeks gives it all away.

  Oh, my.

  Markov clears his throat and takes a quick step away from her. He bows his head as he passes to avoid eye contact with me but I see the same bright red color on his face.

  “Miss Sofia,” he says.

  “Markov,” I say, bowing back.

  Nina turns to hide her face as he marches off into the hallway.

  I lower Lucian into his wooden high chair and wander over to the refrigerator to fetch the juice I promised him. The silence is deafeningly loud but neither of us want to break it. I don’t want to say something I shouldn’t, just in case I didn’t really see what I thought I saw.

  I grab a cup from the drying rack by the sink and fill it up for Lucian, an act that draws her loving eyes up to admire her grandson as I set it down in front of him.

  “Privet, Sofia,” Nina finally says into her coffee mug.

  “Privet,” I greet her.

  I move to stand beside her, slowly reaching into the cupboard for a mug while she eyes me carefully.

  Maybe I really did see what I think I saw.

  I crack a short smile, breaking the tension. “Nina, I am the last woman in the world who will judge you for taking comfort in a man other than your husband,” I say. “At least you kept your vows.”

  She exhales the stiffness from her neck. “Thank you,” she says.

  I glance over my shoulder, listening for eavesdroppers but I sense nothing but Markov’s wide gait echoing down the hall. “You’ve hid it well,” I tell her.

  “Luka doesn’t know?”

  I pour some coffee into my mug. “No.”

  Relief fills her blue eyes. “Slava bogu,” she mutters.

  Thank god.

  I chuckle. “You two don’t have to hide, Nina,” I say. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  She takes a slow sip from her mug, her eyes drifting from Lucian to the floor. “Niko, he…” Her lips twitch with hesitation. “He told me once that if I should go first, he’d die a lonely bachelor. I told him I would do the same but he shook his head and said no. I would never be alone. There would be someone beside me to live out the rest of my days with. I said that was ridiculous. No man would ever love me like he did, so why would I bother? He just smiled, like he knew something I didn’t.” She pauses. “His best friend...”

  “You never noticed how he looks at you?” I ask.

  “No,” she answers. “Markov has been with us for so long. So loyal and kind and I…” Her voice drops as she blushes. “To wake up one morning and suddenly see a man so differently, it’s…”

  “Exciting,” I finish.

  She nods. “And strange. But surprisingly, not surprising.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I worry what my boys will think,” she says, her eyes turning to mine.

  “I think there comes a time in every son’s life when he must learn to see his mother for what she really is,” I say. “Human.”

  Nina smiles, her face gathering hope. “Thank you, Sofia. And I would appreciate it if…”

  “It’s not my secret to tell.”

  She sighs, looking even more relieved, as boots echo down the hall toward us.

  “I say we go in,” Yuri says, his voice loud and defiant. “Tonight. Bring every gun we have.”

  He enters the kitchen with Luka close behind him.

  Luka shakes his head. “If we do that, then he’ll see us coming.” He looks over, twisting his serious frown into a quick smile just for me and another one for Lucian as he bends over to kiss his head.

  I smile back at him over my mug, looking inconspicuous.

  Nina shifts easily from her stiff posture and relaxes
against the counter. “See us coming where?” she asks.

  “The Chernyy Obuvi,” Yuri answers as he plops into a chair across the table.

  Nina raises a brow in confusion and Yuri quickly realizes that she has no idea that the man who killed her husband is in her city.

  He slides down in his chair but Luka steps forward, tall and brave as always.

  “Ma,” he says, “we found Gio.”

  Nina doesn’t blink but a little of that happy rouge fades from her cheeks.

  Luka lays a hand on her shoulder. “He’s in Moscow,” he says slowly. “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave again.”

  She nods. “How?”

  “Guns!” Yuri shouts. “Lots of guns.”

  Luka turns to sit down at the table next to Lucian’s high chair. “A bullet is too good for Gio. I want him alive.”

  “Well, I want him dead.”

  “Yuri…” Nina says. “Luka is right. The Obuvi is dead center in the city. He’ll see you coming and make an escape. It has to be quiet.”

  Yuri sinks back in his chair again, officially outnumbered. “Well, whatever you decide, then,” he murmurs.

  “Sofia,” Luka says, drawing my eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

  I bite my inner cheek. “We’ll only get one shot at this,” I say. “If he slips free now, he may never come back.”

  Luka nods.

  Nina’s brow furrows. “Why did he come back?” she asks.

  Markov appears again in the kitchen doorway. “Luka,” he says.

  Luka reads his face. It’s a moment I’ve seen plenty of times before. Markov gives him that look and Luka stops whatever he’s doing, kisses my cheek, and leaves.

  A snake has been spotted.

  This time, Luka doesn’t move. Instead, he looks at me. Catching and killing Snake Eyes agents has been his priority for so long, but now… with Gio in the city?

  He pauses, his eyes locking on his son’s face.

  “How many?” he asks Markov.

  “Two, maybe three. Nikita Petrovin is there now, waiting for your call.”

  Again, Luka’s gaze flicks over to me. Finding even one agent nowadays is considered a great blessing, but three?