by Tabatha Kiss
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I exhale slowly through my nose, fighting that answer.
Dante stands a little taller. “We’ve both been given a second chance, Fox. I never thought I’d ever meet a woman who understood who I was. Lucy may not like the things I’ve done but she understands them. Dani wouldn’t be with you unless she understood you, too.”
“It’s not the same,” I say, staring at a passing car on the street below. “You’ve always known who you are, Dante. You wanted this. I didn’t. I went from a stupid jock to a stupid soldier to a stupid assassin but I never wanted to be any of that. They’re just men I had to be. And for what? What do I have to show for it? A few stacks of money in a safe?” I scoff. “It’s all pointless. I’m not good enough.”
“Jesus…” He gawks at me. “Did her dad really fuck you up this much?”
“Dante—”
“You’re not unworthy of Dani. If you really thought any of that crap you just spewed, you’d be dead already.”
“Maybe I should be.”
“Or maybe... you can stop being such a fucking baby and call your girlfriend.”
I release the rifle’s grip and glare at Dante’s hard smirk. “Fine. I’ll call her tonight.”
“Good.” He glances at his watch again. “Well, that killed two minutes. Thanks, man.”
“Happy to help,” I murmur.
Thirty-Two
Lucy
A shape enters the door frame and I gasp, making Gio laugh at me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Did I scare you?”
“No,” I answer. “I just didn’t see—”
“You’re American?” he asks, his brow rising with interest.
I nod, regaining my composure. “Yes, I’m… just a tourist. I’m not Russian.”
“Neither am I.” He steps to the side. “Come in.”
I stand still in the doorway, watching him as he turns and walks back into the room. Before following him, I do a quick scan of my new surroundings. Leather couches. Bright pink and blue neon lights decorate the walls. It’s classy, but then again, not so much…
“Close the door behind you,” he says to me from the drink cart in the corner, “and then tell me where you learned to dance like that.”
I glance back over my shoulder into the long, dark hallway. I could bolt right now. I could sink back into the pulsing crowd and crawl on my hands and knees to the exit. No one would blame me. I might even feel a little better, to be honest.
I step into the room and close the door behind me. “Just a hobby,” I say.
He laughs as he turns back to me with two old fashioned glasses in his hands. “That was quite the show for a hobbyist,” he says. “You must be a gymnast or a circus performer of some sort.”
I force a chuckle as he extends one glass toward me. I take it from him, feeling some comfort in the condensation chilling my fingertips.
Don’t accept a drink for anyone.
“I, uh…” I take a quick step away, briefly turning my back to him as I raise the glass to my lips to hide the sip I’m not actually taking, and sit down on the single armchair by the heart-shaped coffee table. “Okay, I’m a dancer. You got me.”
He takes a drink from his own glass and grins. “I knew it,” he says as he sits down in the second chair across the table from me. “So, you’re an American dancer and, judging by your accent, I’d guess you’re from the Midwest. Chicago area, specifically. Am I close?”
I think to deny it but the answer is clearly written on my face.
Gio laughs with smug, twisted lips. “My family is from there, too. Well, not from there, but that’s where they are now.”
I set my glass down on the table in front of me. “Small world,” I joke.
He nods slowly, his neck barely moving. “Yes,” he says. “So, I ask you again, where did you learn to dance like that?”
A chill crawls down my spine, taking over my lower back. I hear the clip of gunfire echoing in the back of my head, followed by the horrified screams of my friends before the auditorium ignites in a blaze of fire above Marty’s shrill laughter. My knee throbs once.
“A studio downtown,” I lie. “They do mostly hip-hop and zumba but they had a pole dancing class last summer, so…” I shrug. “Figured it’d come in handy someday.”
“And you were right,” he says, leaning forward in amusement.
“Yes, I was.” I laugh.
Gio plunks his glass down and I flinch at the sudden sound. He studies me for a moment more, the edges of his lips twitching. “You seem nervous.”
I take a slow, soothing breath. “Just not really sure what I’m doing back here, that’s all.”
“You asked for it,” he says simply.
“I what?”
“You came here looking for someone.”
I shake my head. “No, I—”
“Someone, anyone really,” he says over me, flashing a smile. “It can get cold in Moscow, even at this time of year. Tourist usually come to the Obuvi looking to leave to a warm bed.”
“Right,” I say. I look down, showing a bit of feigned girlish embarrassment. “I looked out into the crowd and you were one of the more pleasant faces, so I focused on you.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that,” he says with a chuckle. “The locals are a bit…”
“Brutish?”
“I was going to say ugly as sin, but that applies, too.”
I laugh as he does. If I didn’t know more about who this man is, I might find him charming. On the surface, he’s nothing like his slimy younger brother. I hate to think what would happen to a girl who didn’t know who he was and fell for it.
I lick my lips and tap my nails against my knee. I can’t reach into my boot for the needle in front of him like this. I have to get closer to him.
My eyes linger on the couch beside him for a purposeful second too long. When I flick them back to gaze at Gio, I make sure he noticed.
“Come here,” he says.
I slowly rise, taking my drink with me as I wander over to his couch. He pivots his position as I sit down, his eyes taking a very obvious stroll downward toward my navel and back up over my breasts. Being so close to him feels absolutely disgusting but I feel a chill of hope travel up my leg from my boot.
“I didn’t just bring you back here for a quiet drink,” he says, a smirk on his lips. “Impress me and I’ll make sure you have a warm night.”
Gross.
I rest a hand on his thigh, letting my eyes fall to his crotch. He takes the silent cue and leans back, giving me access to his belt.
Bile rises quickly but I swallow it down, keeping a seductive gaze on him as I slide to my knees in front of him.
Gio smiles and settles back, laying his head along the edge of the couch. I slide his belt free with one hand, using the other one to glide down his leg. I watch him closely, holding my breath as I reach my own boot, feeling the end of the needle with my fingertips just out of reach. I push in further, stretching every possible bit of my fingers to latch onto it before I absolutely have to touch this fucker’s zipper.
A knock taps the door twice. I abandon my boot as Gio raises his head in frustration. He grunts as he stands, absently kicking me as he hops off the couch.
“This better be important,” he mutters as he crosses the room.
I take the opportunity to grab the needle as I rise to sit on the couch. I pop the cap off and lay it parallel along my thigh, folding my skirt over it to conceal it.
Gio opens the door a crack and a man’s voice travels through. I tilt my head to get a better look but I can’t make him out in the shadowed hallway. Gio says something back in Italian. Again, I can’t make it out. Shouldn’t have taken French in high school instead...
I straighten up as Gio turns to look at me.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he says, disappearing out into the hallway.
The door closes and I twitch in my seat.
Something must have happened. Did Dante and Fox get made? Or something unrelated? God, I hope it’s unrelated...
I slide a hand into my other boot to find the phone they gave me. I flip it open, quickly checking the time. Less than ten minutes until the cut-off time. I have to take Gio down fast.
The door opens again and I drop the phone back into my boot as Gio walks in. He closes the door and smiles to hide the annoyance in his eyes.
“I guess the phrase don’t bother me doesn’t mean the same in Russia as it does in Italy,” he quips.
I force a laugh. “It’s all right.”
Gio takes a few steps closer. “Now, where were we?” he asks me, his voice lacking all subtlety.
He stops in front of me and lays a firm hand on my shoulder. I look up, feeling more than a little unnerved by him towering over me but at least we’re close enough for me to stick him easily.
“That’s right...” he says. “You were about to tell me what your father’s last words were, Lucy Vaughn.”
I freeze but I don’t let it last longer than a second. I jerk my wrist, aiming the needle for the fleshy part of his thigh. It sinks in and he grunts in pain as he lashes out and smacks me hard along the jaw. I fall back, trying to right myself and reach to push the plunger to dose him but Gio grabs the needle and pulls it out before I can get to him.
“That...” he glares at me, “was less than impressive.”
I hop backward, raising my legs to kick his knees. He dodges out of the way, giving me room to make a swift move away from him. I grab my glass and throw it at his face. It bounces off his forehead and falls to the ground, prompting a deep, guttural laugh from the bottom of his throat.
“Lucy...” he says. “That’s enough.”
I race for the door but he takes two large strides to block my path and slams his rolled fist into my solar plexus.
I gasp for air, finding none as my throbbing knee gives out beneath me. Gio grabs my arm as I drop, holding me up off the floor with a firm, revolting grip.
“I am impressed that they would send you, though,” he growls. “Not in a good way, mind you. Just… impressed that they’d be so unbelievably stupid.”
He releases his grip, letting me fall to the floor. I curl into a fetal position as his legs pulls back in preparation to kick me. I clench, trying to let my tight core muscles take the most of the hit as his boot bounces off my ribs. It hurts — a lot — but I hold it together.
“Tell me, Lucy Vaughn.” He kneels in front of me. “What exactly did you hope to achieve here? This is what I find so amusing about your 21st century feminism.” He sneers at the word. “No matter how many female action heroes you see in your Hollywood movies, you can never change the truth that man will always be stronger than woman.”
Gio grabs my hair and yanks me upward on my knees. I bite down, trying not to scream as pain fires through my scalp.
He leans in. “Just stop fighting,” he whispers at me. “I promise you and your entire gender will be happier this way.”
I roll my fists. “You’re right, Gio,” I say as a tear spills down my cheek. “Men will always have something we don’t.”
He grins, showing his crooked teeth. “Strength,” he says.
“No,” I say. “Balls.”
I jab forward with my right hand, my fist connecting with his groin and I throw all of my strength into it. Gio shrieks and loses his balance as he falls into me. I shove him away, regretting it for a moment as he rips a lock of my hair out and tumbles backward onto the sofa.
I don’t think. I hop up and shift into a fighting stance with my feet planted and my fists raised, remembering everything Dante taught me about how to defend myself.
If you hesitate, even for a second, they’ll take advantage of you. Action beats reaction every time.
As Gio attempts to stand up, I punch him again, this time right along the bumpy cartilage of his nose. He doubles back, much angrier than before, but I raise my foot to kick him down again, thrusting the point of my heel toward his eyes.
Gio grabs my ankle with both hands and tugs me forward. I curse to myself as my balance betrays me. I fall into his twisted embrace and his hands lock around my throat.
“That wasn’t very lady-like, Lucy,” he growls.
He pushes his fingers into my neck. I claw at his hands, digging my nails in but that just make him squeeze harder.
He’s choking me.
Gio stares down at me, his eyes twitching with hellish amusement as I wheeze for air.
He’s killing me.
Black auras start to take over my vision. Cold blood stalls in my veins as my brain shuts down. Another few seconds of this and I’ll be…
The door swings open and Gio’s grip relaxes.
“Sir,” I hear behind me, “we can take it from here.”
Gio doesn’t move, still holding me up by my throat. He laughs to himself before letting go and dropping me. My senses are too weak to keep myself from slamming hard against the floor and I yelp as the back of my head strikes the concrete.
“Of course,” he says, towering above me. “I almost got ahead of myself there.”
Black, human-like shapes move in around me, reaching out to grab me like phantoms. I slap their hands away as I struggle to take in a full breath through my burning throat.
Again, Gio’s laughter strikes my ears. “Lucy…” He scolds. “Stop fighting.”
They grip my elbows and pull me off the floor. Still, I push off and kick at them. I yank my arms free and jab at anything close. I keep fighting to free myself and Gio laughs louder when they easily overpower me.
“You know, Lucy, you remind me of my wife.” He takes hold of my chin, fingertips digging into the bone. “You can thank her for everything I’m going to put you through.”
He raises his hand and I flinch at the sight of the syringe pointed at me.
“Not quite sure what’s in this, but…” he smirks with glee, “let’s give it a try, shall we?”
He jabs it into my arm and pushes the plunger down. Almost instantly, my knees begin to collapse beneath me and the men in black loosen their grips to let me fall.
Gio smiles at me as his face disappears behind a veil of black secured over my head.
“Goodnight, Lucy Vaughn.”
Thirty-Three
Dante
“Shit.”
I look at Fox, his eye locked through his scope. I lean forward to follow his eye-line, instantly seeing the girl in the red dress getting carried out of the club’s back entrance by three men into the parking lot, her head covered with a black bag.
Lucy.
My heart stops.
“And there’s Gio,” Fox says, calm and steady.
I notice the man standing tall in the doorway. Smug and a little too fucking happy with himself.
A bullet strikes the brick beside my hand. I jolt down to dodge a second bullet but Fox adjusts his angle, focusing in on the new target on the roof down the street. One shot from his rifle and a pink mist fills the air above the bastard’s location.
“They made us,” Fox says.
I peek down from the roof again as Gio races back inside and the three men rush a little faster across the lot with Lucy.
I break into a run toward the stairs. “Can you see where they’re taking her?”
He pulls the trigger again and he ducks to dodge a hail of bullets as they fire past his head.
“White van on the street,” he says as he expertly pulls back the bolt to reload another round. “Go! I’ll cover you where I can.”
I grit my teeth, racing faster and shoving the door open. The noise inside and out sparked a curiosity through the old building and a few residents poke their heads out as I bolt down through the floors. I ignore them, focusing instead on the sound of boots pounding my way up the stairs to meet me. I don’t care how many of them there are. I’ll rip open the throats of every single one of them to get Lucy back.
Lucy. Goddammit, why did I let
you go through with this?
I grab the pistol from my belt as the first batch of them come into view. They pause to raise their rifles, taking a split-second too long. I fire off two rounds and blow past them before their bodies hit the floor. Screams echo above me, concerned cries to call the police.
I stop in my tracks as a spray of bullets hit the wall beside me. I lean backward, gathering my bearings to locate the man camping between the floors. He foolishly empties his clip and I easily take him out as he attempts to reload.
Amateurs.
I charge down the last few floors to the bottom. The door to the alley flies open as I reach it. I lunge back to dodge the shimmering knife plowing through toward my face. It ricochets off my pistol, making me lose my grip on it. I let it drop to the floor as he readies another deadly swipe. I block the blow, grabbing his arm and jolting him off-balance with a swift knee to his stomach. The blade slices along my arm and I retaliate with a hard head butt that sends us both backward away from each other.
I study the man’s eyes through the black mask, noticing more than a few familiar things about him. His stance, his fighting style. Even the clothes on his back. Nothing like the easy pickings on the stairwell behind me. Not that it matters where he got his training, of course.
I reach into my jacket pocket and slide out the garrote hidden inside.
His eyes squint at it for a half-second before he turns his wrist and plows ahead for a killing blow.
I twist to the side, moving quickly as I wrap the wire around his wrist. I squeeze tightly, using all of my strength to dig into him as deeply as possible and he cries out in surprised agony. Blood falls to the floor, along with the blade in his hand. Rage drives me to kill as I unwrap the garrote from his hand and knock him down to his knees. Another second passes and I’ve got it locked around his throat. A few more and he’s gasping. Choking. Scratching at my hands.
Then, he’s nothing at all.
I abandon his body and head outside only to find another man in black running toward me. I shift into a fighting stance, ready to take him down as swiftly as I did the others.