No Fury

by Tabatha Kiss

  He looks at Fox again, this time cracking a smile. “Well, comrade. You weren’t kidding.”

  Fox shrugs. “I didn’t come back here for the weather.”

  Luka laughs and stands, extending a strong hand over his desk. “Mr. Hart, I believe that we can do business.”

  I rise out of my chair to shake his hand. “Looking forward to it,” I say, discreetly exhaling.

  Luka buttons his jacket. “But before I help you, I ask that you help me.”

  Fox stands up. “What do you need?”

  “Gio,” he says. “We spotted him last night.”

  “Where?”

  “Here in Moscow.”

  Fox grunts. “Ballsy.”

  “I don’t know why he’s here or for how long, but before he vanishes again, I want him.” Luka looks between us. “Help me capture Giovani Zappia and you will have the full weight of the Lutrova family behind you.”

  I look at Fox’s cocky brow and nod. “We’re in.”

  Luka takes a wide stride around his desk toward the door. “First, let’s grab a drink,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve had a very long day and it’s far from finished.”

  I take a breath. “Sir, your wife,” I say. “I apologize if I upset her. I wasn’t aware of her family history.”

  Luka pauses in the doorway. “No need to worry, Mr. Hart. I’m sure the only sadness Sofia feels is the regret that she didn’t get to kill them herself.”

  He walks out into the hallway and I glare at Fox.

  “You couldn’t have warned me she was a Zappia?” I ask.

  Fox grins. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, patting my back as he passes by.

  I scoff. “Dick.”

  Twenty-Six

  Luka

  Never let a snake loose in Moscow.

  My family has lived by these words for three generations. Still, my father was killed, as was his father before him. In that moment, my family united and agreed that we’d never let something like that happen again on Lutrova soil. I looked into the eyes of my son and swore to him that he’d never have to fight this fight as we have.

  If a snake enters Moscow, it must never leave again.

  I trust Fox Fitzpatrick with my life and my Sofia adores him. She saw the good in his eyes long before I ever could. I owe him a great debt for what he did for my family.

  Which is the only reason why I didn’t shoot Dante Hart the second I saw him.

  Killer of Zappias or not… I have not yet decided if I will let him loose after this.

  I stand behind them in Markov’s study, quietly pacing as they watch the video footage of Gio. Markov sits in his chair at the desk while Yuri leans against it, leering at the image of the man who killed our father.

  “So, that’s Gio?” Dante asks.

  “That’s Gio,” I say with a nod.

  “He looks different,” Fox says.

  “That’s what Sofia said.”

  Fox furrows his brow, offering nothing more.

  Gio stands up from his chair and slowly moves through the crowd to the back curtain.

  “He walks in,” I say, “and doesn’t come out again. We believe he’s still there now.”

  Fox nods. “This is your city. You have connections in there, right?” he asks. “I mean, I feel a tad overqualified in this if you could easily just go in and drag him out.”

  I shake my head. “After Hans Petrovin was killed in their bathroom, they cut all ties with us and the Petrovins. Said they didn’t want to be involved in mob business anymore.”

  Markov turns in his chair. “They won’t return my calls. Makes me feel bad.”

  I smile at his joke.

  Dante squints. “If they don’t want mob business, then why house a mobster?”

  “And not just any mobster…” I say. “A Zappia.”

  “They’re in someone’s pocket,” Fox says.

  “And since we currently don’t know who, I’d like to get Gio out of there quickly and quietly to avoid unnecessary conflict.”

  He nods. “Feeling pretty qualified now.”

  I look between him and Dante. “I figure the two of you may have a few tricks we don’t have.”

  They glance at each other in agreement.

  Yuri raises a hand. “Problem.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “The Obuvi checks for tattoos now.”

  “They do?”

  “Yeah.” He pats his chest. “No snakes allowed. Not because they’re bad for business but because they’re worth a lot of money to the cops.”

  “When did they start checking?”

  Yuri shrugs. “Just after the world found out. You didn’t know?”

  “No, brother,” I say with a frown. “I can’t say I’ve had a lot of time to go clubbing since getting married and raising a child.”

  He laughs. “Your loss.”

  “That makes things a little more complicated,” Dante says.

  Fox exhales. “Yes, it does.”

  “Well…”

  I pause, hearing a little voice I don’t recognize.

  Lucy eases forward from her hiding spot behind Dante’s wide shoulders and points at the screen. “What about the dancers?” she asks.

  I look at the video as a drunken woman climbs up onto the platform from the crowd. “Tourists looking for a good time, mostly,” I say.

  “No, I mean… go back a few seconds.”

  Markov clicks and scrubs back in the video.

  “There,” Lucy says. “After her dance, she follows Gio into the back.”

  I watch and she’s right. In fact, Gio waves to the bouncer before he even steps forward to pull the girl off the stage.

  “He chose her,” I say.

  “Does she ever come back out?” Fox asks, saying it as I think it.

  Markov had the same thought, as he’s already scrubbed forward several minutes before Fox finishes the question.

  “Yes,” he says. “Here.”

  We watch the curtain as it moves to the side. The girl reappears, looking as inebriated as she did before she walked in, but the strap of her dress has been ripped off and hangs down her side.

  I flex my jaw. Real classy, Gio.

  “Ten minutes later,” Markov says.

  Yuri exhales. “At least she’s alive.”

  Markov scratches his chin. “We can send in a girl?” he muses.

  I nod. “Get him alone, dope him, and drag him out by his ears.”

  “Where can we find a girl?” Yuri asks.

  “That’s always been a problem for you, hasn’t it?” I joke.

  He sneers at me.

  Lucy shifts a little closer. “I’ll do it.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Dante’s voice booms, making Lucy turn away from the monitor.

  “Dante, they need a dancer,” she says. “That’s kind of my area.”

  “Not you.” He steps forward. “We’ll call Lilah. She can do it.”

  “Lilah’s in France. There’s no time,” she argues. “And she’ll never make it through the front doors with her tattoo. I’m not mafia or Snake Eyes. They won’t know me. I’ll blend in with the other tourists.”

  “I said no.”

  Lucy grows an inch taller. “I can do this,” she says. “I’m not helpless.”

  “It’s not about being helpless,” he says. “He’s dangerous.”

  “I’m from Chicago, Dante. I can handle a handsy Italian guy.”

  He frowns in annoyance. “Lucy, this is serious.”

  “So am I.” She turns to me quickly, prompting me to take a step back. “I’ll go in tonight. If I see Gio, I’ll do a little dance, get him alone, and chloroform his ass or whatever.”

  Yuri laughs. “She’s good. I like it.”

  “I don’t,” Dante says.

  Lucy ignores him. “Does Sofia have dresses?” she asks me. “Something short and skimpy?”

  I smile. “I’m sure the two of you can throw something together.”


  She nods. “Okay. It’s settled, then.”

  “No, it’s not,” Dante says. “Lucy, this isn’t your fight.”

  Lucy doesn’t blink. “Marty Zappia killed my father,” she says. “He took everything from me and you have the nerve to tell me that this isn’t my fight?”

  “Yeah and I killed Marty for that.”

  “We should have taken them all out when we had the chance,” she adds. “If we had, then Elijah would still be here.”

  “Luce.” He shakes his head. “That wasn’t your—”

  “I’ve made my decision. I’m going.”

  She takes off for the door and he takes a wide step to follow her.

  “Lucy...”

  “Mr. Hart,” I say, stopping him. “I believe the young woman has made up her mind.”

  He backs down with a stiff jaw and watches as she leaves the room.

  Fox clears his throat. “Do you have a sniper rifle?” he asks me.

  I nod. “Of course.”

  “I’ll keep watch from a neighboring roof,” he says. “Cover the back exit in case something goes wrong.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “Markov and I will wait nearby until we hear from Lucy.”

  Dante scoffs.

  “Do you have something to add, Mr. Hart?” I ask.

  “And if you don’t hear from her?” he spits. “What then?”

  “Then we go in for her,” Fox answers. “We’ll give Lucy a specific time. If we don’t hear from her by then, Dante and I will take care of it. If things go south, we’ll deny any involvement with the Lutrovas and you’ll be absolved of any unnecessary conflict with the locals.”

  I nod. “Sounds good.”

  Dante shakes his head. “Of course, it does. You risk nothing.”

  “Dante,” Fox warns.

  “Mr. Hart…” I say, staying calm, “shall I have my wife regale you with tales of Gio’s cruelty?” I ask. “If you knew the acts this man committed against my family, then you would understand what I risk losing if Gio slips away from me again — which is surely possible as our plan hinges on a lightweight dancer with a limp.”

  He flexes his jaw but says nothing.

  “I’ll get your rifle,” I say to Fox. “Markov, get everything else in order.”

  Markov nods from his seat. “Yes, sir.”

  I continue out into the hallway, taking a hard left toward the east wing. Perhaps I should have trusted my initial instincts regarding Dante Hart and subdued the snake the moment I saw him. I’ll let Fox straighten him out, but if he can’t...

  Then, I’ll cross another name off my list tonight.

  I nod to my security in the hallway. I called in a few extra the moment I heard Gio was in Russia again and they’re all too happy to oblige. I slip into the armory at the end of the hall, nodding to the men standing by and they disperse, letting me search the boxes alone for a sniper rifle to give to Fox.

  I flick the switch on the wall, illuminating the racks of long guns attached to each wall. Dozens of black ammo boxes sit nestled beneath the cabinets. We were never this armed back when I was head of security. It was never this necessary. Having our home invaded changed our minds.

  I bend over, grabbing a long, black case off the shelf on the far wall and setting it down on the counter beneath the lights. With a quick flick, I release the locks and open it, finding the disassembled rifle inside. Fox will want to inspect this himself, I’m sure.

  After a moment, I sense soft, slow-moving feet drift in behind me like a cool winter’s fog. She walks up behind me and places her palms on my back, instantly making my stiff shoulder blades relax downward. Her touch, warm and comforting. That’s one of my wife’s many talents. She always knows exactly what touch I need and when.

  The door closes behind us, thanks to a well-trained guard.

  “That girl,” Sofia says. “Lucy.”

  “What about her?” I ask.

  Her fingers drift down my spine. “She has the same name as our son,” she says. “As you.”

  “Light?”

  Sofia inches to my side and nods beneath the bright, white bulbs above our heads. “It’s almost like she were meant to be here.”

  I turn back to the case, closing it again. “If you believe in that sort of thing, I suppose.”

  “What’s the matter, lyubov’ moya?” she asks, smiling. “Do you not believe in miracles?”

  “I believe in preparation and strategy,” I answer. “The rest is just luck.”

  Her brow arches. “Is this what happened to the little boy in the garden shed with kindness in his eyes?” She reaches upward and brushes the hair from my forehead.

  I exhale through my nose. “Sofia...”

  “You sound like a Zappia, Luka,” she says, her voice harder.

  I release the case, shoving it aside as I turn to her. “I do this for you,” I say.

  “I know that.”

  “Because of what they did to you and our family.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “For Rosalie,” I say. “And my father and grandfather.”

  Sofia gazes at me for another silent moment before resting her warm palm on my cheek. “Wars are fought in moments,” she says. “It took the two of us a single moment in time to create our son and that moment echoes until now. If one second of that had gone differently...”

  I sigh beneath her touch. “Sofia.”

  “There would be no us. There would be no Lucian.”

  “I know,” I whisper, turning my face to kiss her palm.

  She eases closer to me and I slide one arm around her waist. “Trust in them,” she says. “They were brought to us on this day for a reason.”

  I bow my head, resting it on her shoulder and she brushes her delicate fingers along the back of my neck.

  “I’ll believe that you believe,” I say.

  Sofia chuckles, her breath tickling my ear. “That’s good enough, I suppose,” she says.

  She cups my face, drawing my head up to kiss the edge of my mouth. I kiss her back and pull her closer, wanting so much more of her.

  “I think about that moment,” I say. “Every day.”

  Her head nods. “So do I.”

  “I’ll never forget you...” I bow again to kiss her shoulder. “Your courage. Your beauty.”

  She hums. “I knew you would take care of me,” she says. “You always have.”

  I gaze into her eyes. My perfect Sofia. “Ti amo,” I say in her tongue.

  Our lips brush again, creating a tempting fire between us, but now isn’t the time for celebration.

  Tonight, I will avenge her. And Rosalie. And my father.

  I promise you, lyubov’ moya.

  Gio Zappia won’t make it out of Russia alive.

  Twenty-Seven

  Boxcar

  As soon as the house comes into view, my guts churn. I remember being so happy to see it the first time. I was cold, starving, and tired. The dark blue color on the outside filled my heart with joy and I relished in the opportunity to crack the security wide-open. I wanted nothing more than to get inside and take a nap. Maybe a shower, too.

  Now, I just want to bolt.

  “We’ve got company.”

  I slow down and follow Archer’s gesture ahead of us. A man in black tactical gear walks along the tree line with a rifle slumped over his shoulder, unaware of our presence. I slink back to hide by a tree while Lilah eases forward with silent steps.

  “Wasps,” she says. “Someone’s home…”

  “Marilyn herself, maybe?” I ask, cringing.

  Archer furrows his brow. “If that’s the case, then we need to pull back. Call the others. Make a new plan.”

  “Screw that,” Lilah spits. “If we can end this now, then we should.”

  “Lilah…” he says. “You don’t know for sure she’s in there and there could be a lot more agents.”

  “No one I can’t handle.”

  He flexes his jaw. “Don’t be foolish, love.”

/>   She pushes forward, ignoring his warning.

  “Dammit,” he whispers.

  I reach out and snap my fingers. “Lilah, wait—” She pauses. “There’s a security hub on the east side of the house. If I can crack into it, we’ll be able to access their security cameras and see who’s inside.”

  She nods. “East side?”

  “That’s where it was before.”

  “I’ll clear a path for you.”

  Archer lowers his head as she continues on toward the tree line. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

  “I agree,” I reply. “But if she’s in the mood to kill people, it’s better them than me.”

  He gives a hesitant side-eye but ultimately continues forward along her trail. I stay a few paces behind, telling myself I’m being helpful by keeping an eye on “our six.” Reminds me of being in the desert all over again. The difference is I’m not madly in love with the strong woman leading the pack and I’m fairly sure Lilah wouldn’t give a crap if I dropped dead.

  Lilah holds up a hand, signaling for us to stop. I look ahead at the man rounding the house, walking away from us. As he disappears out of sight, Archer continues forward but Lilah quickly stops him again. We duck down just as a second man appears from the far side of the house and Lilah points forward with an obvious annoyance on our part.

  “Wasps,” she whispers again, as if that’s supposed to mean something to us. She rolls her eyes when we don’t get it. “They patrol in threes. When one exit, the other comes in. Leave no area unmanned for more than a second.”

  Archer nods. “So, we pull back? Call the others? Yes?”

  She tilts her head and smirks at him. “Well, aren’t you precious?”

  He sighs.

  “The security hub should be just beyond the porch,” I say, pointing forward. “Little, gray box.”

  Lilah nods. “Okay… be right back.”

  Archer’s hands twitch as she exits the brush. My gut twinges with sympathy for him. I remember with perfect clarity every time Caleb used to rush into danger headfirst. Front row center. That’s my Caleb.

  I pat his shoulder in a show of support.

  My heart jolts as the bushes shake. A body slams to the ground beside me and I tumble back, biting my tongue to keep from shouting. A moist gurgling sound exhales from his throat before he finally lays down in silent death.