No Fury

by Tabatha Kiss

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Trust me. Gio is well-aware at how good you are at handling yourself,” he says. “You’ll be sedated and locked up the second you’re on the property.”

  “What property?” I ask.

  He pauses, hesitating one last time. “The Zappia estate in Chicago,” he says. “That’s where the other girls were taken, too. There’s a good chance you’ll find the Boss there as well — along with your wife, if what you say is true.”

  Lilah smirks with satisfaction. “Why do you know this but Myra didn’t?” she asks.

  My brow piques.

  Casey’s lips twitch. “Myra’s involvement in the mission was need-to-know only.”

  “Why would the Boss’ voice be need-to-know only?” Lilah asks.

  “Because she was demoted,” I say, drawing Casey’s eye. “Right?”

  “Myra had become unpredictable,” he says. “After a string of bad decisions on her part, the Boss decided that she needed to start trimming the fat if she wanted the organization to survive another day.” He looks at Lilah. “Once we had you, my orders were pretty clear.”

  “Kill Myra,” I say.

  He nods. “But then, you showed up. So, I took off, stopped here to get my bearings, and that’s when I found the tracker.” He breathes a laugh. “Figured you’d show up eventually, so I waited.”

  “Didn’t happen to alert your friends, did you?” Lilah asks.

  “You mean the ones you had already murdered?” he quips. “No, I did not.”

  “Could have called in a back-up squad.”

  “If I had, you’d be dead by now,” he says. “Or had, at least, worked up a sweat.”

  Lilah shrugs a shoulder in agreement.

  “Why didn’t you call them?” I ask.

  “Because I didn’t feel like it.”

  “Because you care about Caleb.”

  He laughs. “Kid…”

  “Why else would you want to keep me alive?”

  “Snake Eyes is finished,” he says. “There’s no way the Boss can keep it afloat no matter how much fat she trims off. The smart ones among us are abandoning ship while we can and seeking employment elsewhere. Your little assault on the Boss’ compound just allowed me to slip out undetected sooner than I had planned.”

  “Elsewhere?” I ask.

  “You think Snake Eyes is all that’s out there for men like me?” he asks. “You think those of us who have dedicated our lives to the job will be able to just… go back to Oklahoma?”

  I look at the table between us.

  “This work is all I have and I’ve got another job all lined up. So, no. I won’t be escorting you anywhere,” he says. “I’ve answered your questions. I’ve told you what I know and where you need to go but don’t think for a second I do it for any other reason than Fitzpatrick lying prone on the rooftop across the street and I’ve got more shit to do before I die. I stopped being a father a long time ago and I’m not going to start again, so don’t expect it of me. You’ll be disappointed.”

  “Oh, believe me,” I say. “I’m already very disappointed.”

  He glares back at me.

  “The way Caleb talks about you,” I say. “How much she loved you and looked up to you. She grew up in your image and if she finds out how much of a pathetic lie you really are…” I shake my head. “On second thought, why bother? You don’t care, right?” I pick up the GPS chip off the table and push the revolver toward him. “You can keep that, by the way. Caleb won’t be needing her good luck charm anymore.”

  I stand up and march past Lilah toward the broken door. If I were in a sentimental mood, I’d keep an ear open for him. He’d say my name and I’d look back and he’d drop some kind of platitude on me that makes him look a little less like an asshole.

  But he stays quiet.

  Lilah follows me out, taking wide strides to catch up. “So, Plan B, then?” she asks.

  I nod. “Plan B.”

  “Rock on,” she says as we reach the stairwell. “What’s Plan B?”

  Fifty-One

  Lucy

  What in the actual fuck is happening here?

  First, I got kidnapped in Russia. Not my finest hour.

  Then, I wake up here, chained to a bed. Again.

  Seriously. How many guys are going to keep chaining me to beds? That’s not how you hold Lucy Vaughn down. Just ask Dante.

  I thought I was through getting surprised but this — this — is some next-level, dystopian shit.

  Gio’s mother came in here this morning and dropped off the gown. She laid it down at the foot of my bed with such care and grace you’d think the thing would rip apart but as I squeeze into it now, it’s strong and thick.

  And black. Pure black from top to bottom with a long veil that covers my head and practically drags the carpet as I walk.

  I thought brides were supposed to wear white.

  The door opens suddenly and I roll my eyes with annoyance as Gio himself walks in. At least he can’t see it behind the veil. Bonus.

  “Good day, Lucy,” he says as he folds his hands behind his back. He looks me up and down and smiles. “My God, you look lovely.”

  I turn away from him and he laughs.

  “Oh, come on, Lucy Vaughn,” he says as he crosses the room toward me. “Where’s that crack of a wit?”

  He’s baiting me. Trying to get me to talk. Don’t get me wrong, I gave him quite the earful when I first got here. Called him every name I could recall from growing up on the streets of Chicago. The first time, he took it. The second time, too.

  The third time, he smiled, turned around, and walked across the hallway into another room.

  A few seconds later, I heard another girl scream.

  I stopped talking after that. I don’t know who that girl was but I don’t want to risk him hurting her because of me.

  “Lucy…” he says, chuckling. “I must say, I’m proud of you. I didn’t think you’d take the vow of silence seriously. You’ll make an extraordinary Zappia bride.”

  Yeah, sure. Whatever that means.

  I ain’t being anybody’s bride.

  Except maybe Dante’s.

  Hurry the fuck up, Dante.

  Gio sighs behind me and I cringe as his hands caress my shoulders. “Lucy, turn around…”

  I do it and he flashes that disgusting smile.

  “I can’t wait to see those beautiful eyes again tomorrow,” he whispers. “Tonight is your final night alone here. Tomorrow, we’ll be married… and you’ll spend the night with me.”

  I flinch in disgust but I bite my tongue to not say a word.

  Seriously. What in the actual fuck?

  “Tell me there isn’t a part of you…” he says, drawing close, “that wants to feel me inside of you.”

  Nope.

  I head butt him in the nose, firing a flurry of pain throughout my forehead, but goddammit, it was worth it.

  Gio stumbles backward but quickly rights himself. He touches his nose, feeling for blood as he grits his teeth in anger.

  “Lucy…” he seethes.

  He steps forward with rolled fists, purposefully stopping to tower over me but I don’t cower. I stand tall, tightening myself to take any punches this piss-ant wants to throw at me.

  Instead, he drops to one knee and grabs the chain around my ankle. He quickly unlocks the cuff and stands to take me by the neck.

  “Come with me,” he says.

  He drags me out into the hallway, moving so fast I can hardly keep up with this black tarp weighing me down. We pass by several armed guards, not a one of them rising more than an eye to my situation. They don’t even seem surprised.

  Gio throws open a door and shoves me inside first.

  I tumble to the floor, unable to keep my dress from bunching underneath my feet.

  “A Zappia woman is brave,” Gio says, crushing every word, “never tortured or fearful.”

  I push up onto my knees, raising my head to look around the
room. It’s an old study, the shelves lining the walls with books and trinkets. An elegant sofa sits in front of an unlit fireplace.

  “A Zappia woman is focused, never careless or rash,” he says as he calmly walks across the room.

  There’s another girl on the sofa, dressed in the same black gown as I am.

  Gio grabs my arm and forces me to stand. “A Zappia woman is wise, never arrogant or cold,” he says as he thrusts me toward the couch.

  I sit down beside the other girl and Gio stands over us with his hands on his hips.

  “You are Zappia women now,” he says, looking back and forth at us. “From this day forward, I will not tolerate anything less. There is no shame in what you’ve been chosen for. I do think that someday, very soon, you’ll both be thankful for what I have given you.” He straightens up and smooths his crinkled jacket down. “Now, do you have any questions?” he asks, expecting silence.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Who told you that tie was a good idea?”

  The other girl snorts quietly beneath her veil.

  Gio rushes toward me, his palm flat to strike me with.

  “Giovani…”

  He stops with his hand raised and we all turn to look at the woman standing in the doorway.

  “May I speak to you for a moment?” she asks.

  Gio lowers his arm and gives the two of us a few biting glances before stomping off toward the door. He and the woman go out into the hallway and she slowly closes the door behind them.

  I exhale hard as I bunch up my veil and pull it over my head. “I’m Lucy,” I say to the girl. “Who are you?”

  She does the same, quickly raising her veil. “It’s me,” she says.

  I gasp. “Roxie Roberts?”

  Her head tilts. “Dani,” she corrects.

  “Holy shit.”

  I take a breath. I was kidnapped with a movie star.

  Whoa.

  “How did you get here?” I ask quickly, glancing at the door.

  “That woman brought me in,” she says.

  “Who is she?”

  “The Boss of Snake Eyes.”

  I deflate. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Have you seen Caleb?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure she was brought here with me but I haven’t seen her.”

  “No.”

  Dani’s face falls.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I say. “Dante will come for us. Fox, too.”

  She looks up. “You were with him, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How was he?”

  I smile. “Oh, you know. Tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome. You’re a lucky girl.”

  She laughs, a bit of sadness in her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “He spoke Russian to me,” I add. “It was pretty hot.”

  “I love when he does that.”

  The door opens and we drop our veils.

  Gio’s mother pauses by the sofa and raises her arm, gesturing for us to follow her.

  We rise and walk to the door.

  “They’re coming,” I whisper, low enough for only Dani to hear. “Hang in there.”

  Dani nods. “You, too.”

  Fifty-Two

  Archer

  Well, when you can’t get back into the United State legally, there’s always a Russian mobster’s private plane.

  Luka used every connection he had to make sure our departure from Europe was airtight. Our plan to get the girls back could not be compromised and we need everyone on their game.

  I’ll worry about getting my papers in order after this is all over.

  The six of us sit around the plane, hovering somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Our seats are turned to face each other as we pour over everything we know. Admittedly, it’s not much, but it’s enough to start forming a plan.

  Dante leans back in his seat and rubs his tired eyes. “The tunnels are the safest bet,” he says. “We can enter them through a warehouse just off the casino.”

  Lilah grunts from her chair beside me. “Oh, great. The dusty, bootlegger tunnels again. How fun.”

  “It’s better than busting down the front door,” he argues.

  “Not nearly as fun,” she says with a shrug. “But I’m still in.”

  “And you’re sure they reach the house?” Fox asks.

  Dante nods. “The estate sits about a mile from the casino on the shoreline. The family used to smuggle booze from the house to the casino back in the 20s. Assuming they haven’t sealed them off, that’s how we get in undetected.”

  Luka squints. “They’d have some sort of alarm, yes?” he asks.

  Boxcar glances up from his laptop. “Already on it,” he says. “According to last year’s financial records, the Zappias purchased a gold package from Brickton Enterprises. Looks like a full upgrade on their estate.”

  “What’s in that?” Fox asks.

  “Whole lot of cheap-ass cameras and a few CX-22Cs marked-up to about twenty-five grand,” he answers with rolling eyes. “Pure theft.”

  I glance around at the confused faces along the cabin and smile. Old Sparky at it again.

  “Can you override it?” Lilah asks him.

  Boxcar turns back to his laptop again. “Yes,” he says. “I can.”

  Dante nods. “Then, we’ll make that top priority as soon as we land. What do you need to make that happen, Box?”

  “Oh…” His fingers fly across the keys. “About fifteen more seconds.”

  Dante stands up out of his chair. “Wait, really?”

  Boxcar grins and turns his laptop around to show the rest of us.

  We all lean forward to get a closer look at the full-color video of the Zappia estate’s front lawn.

  “Moral of the story, kids,” he says. “Never use a cloud-based security firm like Brickton Enterprises.”

  Sofia pokes me. “How does he do that?” she whispers.

  I smirk. “That’s Sparky.”

  “Can you see the inside of the house?” Dante asks.

  Boxcar takes control and clicks around, shuffling through angles of the kitchen and the dining room and—

  “There.” Fox points at the screen. “Bedroom 4.”

  Boxcar goes full-screen and we see her. A girl pacing back and forth in a bare-bones bedroom. A chain latched around her ankle.

  “Dani,” Fox says.

  “Are you sure?” Lilah asks. “She’s wearing a hood.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He leans back and nods at Sofia, who quickly gets closer to take a look herself.

  “Damn,” she whispers, her skin turning white.

  Luka shakes his head. “I’d almost forgotten about those.”

  “I didn’t,” Sofia says.

  “What are they?” Lilah asks.

  “They’re ceremonial robes for Zappia brides,” Sofia answers. “I had to wear them for two weeks before my wedding day.”

  Lilah screws up her face. “Why?”

  “Purification.”

  “Okay…” Lilah shifts backward and falls into the seat beside me again. “I’m just not gonna think about what that means.”

  She reaches for my hand, her touch smooth and delicate.

  “Any sign of Caleb?” Fox asks.

  Boxcar continues clicking through the cameras, tapping quickly until he suddenly stops and exhales.

  “Yeah,” he says. “No robes, but…”

  “Is that Marilyn?” Fox asks.

  “That’s Marilyn,” Boxcar confirms.

  Lilah scratches at my hand, drawing my attention away from the monitor. Her eyes silently flick toward the back, hinting at a tryst.

  I gawk at her and shake my head before turning back to the screen.

  “There’s Lucy,” Dante says, pointing. There’s a girl in a room just like Dani’s wearing black robes stretched out in a yoga pose. “Doing her morning routine,” he adds with a smile.

  Lilah jabs me again and I exhale, giving in. I nod reluctantly and Lilah slides out of her seat and makes her way toward the washrooms
at the front of the plane.

  “Looks like I have access to door locks, too,” Boxcar says, shaking his head in disgust. “Oh, Brickton. You never change.”

  “Let’s start mapping it out,” Dante says, fully-alert now. “We need to know exactly where we are and where we’re going once we’re on the inside.”

  A phone rings and Luka reaches into his pocket. “Yuri,” he answers. He pauses, listening hard over the soft rumble of the engines. “Send me the address. I’ll check it out. You—” He gets cut off and he smiles as Sofia moves closer to him. “Yes, brother. I did know about Ma and Markov.”

  Sofia covers her mouth, holding in a laugh as Luka caresses her shoulder.

  “Yes, I’m okay with it and you should be, too. … Yes, I’m serious, Yuri.”

  I search the cabin for spying eyes but they’re all too locked in on the Lutrova family gossip to notice me rising from my chair. I walk slowly to the front of the plane, peeking back one more time to make sure it’s safe before I slide the washroom door open and step inside.

  I brace myself for the impact of her lips but Lilah just stands there in the cramped space, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Do you like Elvis?” she asks.

  I hold in a smile. “What now?”

  “The King,” she repeats. “You a fan?”

  “No opinion one way or the other, I’m afraid.” I squint with suspicion. “Wh—”

  “How about jazz?”

  “You mean like… saxophones and shrieking flutes?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Not really,” I answer. “I prefer music with more structure.”

  She snorts. “You really are British.”

  “Last I checked.” I lean forward. “What’s this about, love?”

  “What’s what about?”

  “You dragged me into an airplane washroom to talk about Elvis and jazz. I can’t say that’s normal.”

  Lilah hesitates, biting her cheek. “I’m just… making conversation.”

  I study the flush in her cheeks and my jaw drops. “My God.”

  She looks up. “What?”

  “You’re inquiring about my likes and dislikes.”

  Her shoulders bounce. “So?”