by Tabatha Kiss
“So… you’re trying to get to know me as a person rather than a chunk of man-meat.”
“No, I’m not.”
I smirk. “You like me, Lilah Hart.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m making progress.”
“No, you’re not.”
I laugh. “It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone you’ve gone soft.”
“I have not—” She shuts her mouth and glares.
I reach out to her, resting my hands on her shoulders. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. I like you, too. A good deal more than I enjoy Elvis… or jazz… or the occasional butt stuff.”
Anger fills her eyes as she looks through the wall. “That little shit,” she spits.
I laugh as I glide my hands behind her and pull her against me. “I would love to go on a romantic getaway, Lilah. I’ll go anywhere in the world with you.”
“You will?” she squeaks.
I answer with a kiss, tilting her chin up to take her. “Damn right I will,” I mutter, parting my lips.
She kisses me back, pushing up onto the tips of her toes.
“And for the record…” I say, grinning. “My favorite color is red.”
“Ooo,” she says, playfully moaning. “Tell me more.”
“I don’t actually like Rocky Road ice cream.”
She gasps. “Didn’t seem to have an issue with it the other night.”
“Oh, I’ll lick anything off of you, love.”
I attack her neck with kisses and she laughs harder.
A fist slams twice against the door.
“Lilah.”
I cringe at Dante’s voice.
“Whoops,” she says.
I drop my hands to my sides and turn around, instantly sliding the door open on his stiff face. “It’s not what you think, mate,” I say. “We were talking about jazz.”
Dante brushes it off. “Come on, we gotta memorize this map,” he says as he walks away toward the back of the plane again.
Lilah shifts forward, squeezing out of the washroom ahead of me. As she passes, I feel her hand graze my bulge, giving it a firm squeeze before she follows him.
I chuckle. I suppose I’m still a chunk of meat.
But I am making progress.
Fifty-Three
Luka
Antony Zappia hasn’t been seen for weeks.
No public appearances. No lunch trips to one of Enzo’s many front restaurants. Even his famous casino lies dormant and cold.
After my father was killed, I worked with Stefan Petrovin to keep an eye on the Zappia family. I wanted to make sure Antony was staying out of contact with Gio and, as far as we knew, he had honored our new truce.
Until now. The footage of Gio’s putrid smile lounging around the Zappia estate more than confirms these suspicions.
But where is Antony?
The only clue is his wife, Beatrix.
Stefan’s eyes in the city have long tracked her from place-to-place. She leaves the estate twice a week for various errands and grocery shopping and she rarely strays from the habitual paths she takes. Then, a few weeks ago, she added another stop to her errands around the same time Antony disappeared; an old apartment building downtown.
I read the message from Yuri on my phone, confirming the address before walking inside. The apartment sits on the first floor, the last door after a long line of scratches and carpet stains.
I knock twice.
“Come in.”
The voice is faint but familiar. I push the door open and walk inside, sensing little-to-no movement throughout the whole place. The television is on, playing a cop drama at a timid volume and flashing a dim light throughout the dark space.
I eye the back of his head from behind the large recliner sitting in the center of the room. He reaches an old hand toward the drinking glass on the table beside him as I take a few steps forward to confirm it’s him.
“Hello, Antony,” I say.
He glances up at me and laughs. “I knew it’d be you someday,” he says, his words slurring. “Welcome, Lutrova. How do you like the new digs?”
I look around the dismal room. “It suits you,” I say.
He chuckles into his glass before emptying it down his throat. “I suppose it does.”
Antony sits forward, struggling to gain momentum before hoisting himself out of the chair. I study him as he walks, feeling a pang of sympathy for the old man. Is this what became of the great Antony Zappia? An old, frail shadow of what he once was? The pillar of strength, now a poster boy for weakness.
“What happened?” I ask.
Antony wanders to the drink cart in the corner. He grabs a whiskey bottle off the back and twists the cap off. “Gio,” he answers. “Gio happened.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
He nods and shuffles back to his chair. “I lost Marty,” he mutters. “Enzo went missing.” He plops down, spilling a bit of whiskey onto his pants. “Then, that crazy son-of-a-bitch showed up.”
“You didn’t invite him?” I ask.
Antony takes a swig from his bottle. “I told him to stay away,” he says. “He wasn’t welcome anymore, not if we wanted to survive, but he just walked in one day, talking about how he was going to bring the family back. He had a plan. He had women. He told me everything he wanted to do but I looked into my son’s eyes and I saw a madman staring back at me. He forced me out and my wife… Beatrix sided with him. Stops in every now and then to fill the fridge and leave.
I smirk. “What did you expect to happen, Antony? You brainwashed them. Gio speaks Zappia way better than you ever did.”
He drops his head and takes another drink.
“He does have a plan,” I say, stepping forward. “He does have women. But I will do everything in my power to keep your family from coming back.”
“Good.” He breathes harder. “Burn it down, Lutrova. Burn it all down.”
He leans back and pours another healthy dose of whiskey into his mouth.
“The girl,” he says. “Sofia.”
“What about her?”
“Is she all right?” he asks, turning up to look at me.
I nod. “Yes, she is.”
His lips twitch. “She certainly got what she wanted, didn’t she?”
“She usually does.”
Antony laughs, cold and dry, before falling into a dead silence again.
“Kill him.”
I furrow my brow. “What?”
“Gio.” He takes another drink and winces. “Kill him—”
The bottle slips from his hand to the floor. He slinks backward against the chair and his eyes roll until I can see nothing but white.
“Antony?”
I step forward and he convulses.
“Antony!”
I grab his shoulders, trying to hold him still but the seizure takes him fast. He spits up onto his shirt, his body jerking with the last inch of life he has before he settles and goes limp in my hands.
I snatch the bottle off the floor and bring it to my nose, instantly detecting the bitter scent along the open rim.
Cyanide.
I shake my head at him. “Coward,” I say.
I wipe the bottle for fingerprints and set it back down on the floor.
Fifty-Four
Lilah
As far as plans go, Plan B is on the simpler side.
Fox, Dante, Archer, and I will enter the tunnels via the warehouse on Montrose Beach, just like my brothers and I did when we came here to plug Marty a few weeks ago. Luka and Sofia will wait at the tunnel’s exit in the Zappia casino for the girls. Boxcar will be in our ears the whole time, watching the security and opening doors when needed.
And, my personal favorite bit: kill anything that moves.
Simple.
The green warehouse comes into view. The four of us stay out of sight, easily tapping into our stealth training. Archer’s is a little clunkier than ours but he’s not exactly Snake Eyes trained. I bite my smirking lip anyway.
Guy’s adorable.
I look down the beach, spotting the dark casino about a half mile away. Soon, it’ll be as ravaged by the elements as this place has become. That’s for the best, to be honest. I can’t imagine the great people of Chicago will miss the Zappias.
Fox slides open the side door and holds it for the rest of us. We slink inside, sticking to the shadows as Dante leads us to the basement door. I let my hand hover along the banister as we descend the pitch-black stairs. Dante reaches the bottom first and finds the light switch, illuminating the old storage area with a dusty yellow flicker.
I step forward, zeroing in on the bookshelf planted in front of the false wall. Archer takes the other side and he helps me shove it out of the way. Dante pushes against the wall and it gives, sliding open to reveal a dark tunnel.
“Okay, this is just really cool,” Fox says.
I nod in agreement. “After you.”
He goes first, turning his thick shoulders to avoid the old, decaying shelves lined with bottles. Dante follows and Archer smiles, giving me a ladies first motion with his arm.
“Hey — who’s down there?!”
We all spin around, startled by the shouting voice up the stairs.
“Shit,” Dante mutters.
If they find us, we’re done. If they’re paid off by the Zappia family, then they’ll alert Gio that we’re slinking around. They might even see our tattoos, which would make us double-fucked in basically every hole.
I don’t usually like to kill innocent people just doing their jobs but we don’t have time for this.
I reach down my leg toward the knife in my ankle holster, ready to kill the officers where they stand.
Archer grabs my elbow and turns me to face him.
“I love you, Lilah,” he whispers.
I open my mouth in shock as he cups my face and kisses me hard, deep and true. “I…”
Before I can say anything, he stands up and grabs an old, dirty bottle off the shelf.
“Archer,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
He breaks the bottle and spills the ancient booze down his shirt. “You keep going,” he says to both of us. “Find the girls.”
A rock settles in my gut. “Wait—”
Archer slides the wall closed, blocking us out.
“Wait, Archer—”
I rush forward to try and pry it back open but it doesn’t move more than an inch.
Archer hobbles drunkenly through the storage room, bumping into boxes and drawing the attention of the two police officers as they descend the stairwell.
“Hello!” he shouts, slurring his voice.
The officers’ lights shine on him and Dante tries to pull me back from the wall’s narrow opening.
“I’m an immigrant!” Archer says, feigning laughter. “I am here illegally. I have a criminal record and I’ve never paid taxes.”
My jaw drops.
The officers drift closer, their hands hovering over their sidepieces.
“Get down on your knees, sir,” one of them barks. “Hands on your head. No sudden moves.”
No.
No, no, no.
Dante tugs on my arm. “Lilah…”
“We can’t leave him,” I whisper, my heart crushing in my chest.
“He’ll be okay.”
I shake my head. Archer Allen. He doesn’t kill, especially innocents. He didn’t want me to, either.
I ease up, ready to slam through this fucking wall and tackle the officers as they tighten the cuffs on Archer’s wrists, but Dante grabs my arm.
He’d rather it be him than me.
It should have been me.
“Lilah, come on.”
I give up, swallowing my tears as I let Dante pull me through the tunnel.
My hunter.
They caught him.
Fifty-Five
Dante
I glance back at Lilah in the tunnel. Her head is turned down with heavy eyelids blocking all the color in her eyes. I’ve seen this look of grief on her face so many times before and each time I tell myself that I never want to see it again.
I slow my stride, letting Fox get a bit of distance ahead of us. “He’ll be okay,” I tell her again.
Lilah looks up and nods without saying a word.
Goddammit, Archer. I told you to do one thing. One thing.
Take care of my baby sister.
This look on her face right now is because of you. Because you decided to be a hero… and let us continue on… and save Lucy. And Dani and Caleb, too. And take Gio and the Boss by surprise, ending this stupid fucking war once and for all.
Dammit.
I think I like him now.
Well, he’s all right.
“This should be it,” Fox says, resting his hand on the door.
I nod. The tunnel split off about halfway down, the south way leading to the casino and the north leading here. Distance-wise, there’s nowhere it could go except right underneath the Zappia estate.
A keypad sits next to the door. Armed and red.
Fox adjusts the mic on his ear. “Boxcar, you read us?”
“Loud and clear,” I hear Boxcar in my own headset.
“Disable the door.”
“Can you see a number along the bottom of the panel?”
Fox bends down and grabs a small flashlight from his belt. “Yeah,” he says. “CX-1342,” he reads.
“Okie dokie.”
A moment later, the panel turns green and the door lock clicks open.
“Thanks, Box,” Fox says.
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a bogey down the hall to the left.”
Lilah slides the combat knife from her ankle holster before brushing past me.
“Lilah—” I sigh, letting her go.
She yanks open the door and walks on through.
Fox looks back at me and raises a brow.
“Yeah, she’s… got some stuff to work through right now,” I say.
“Should let her take point then, you think?”
I nod. “Oh, yeah.”
We follow her inside, walking lightly on our toes into an old wine cellar. Lilah pauses by the corner to discreetly peek over her shoulder before rushing out, her knife ready to strike.
“Yep. That was violent.”
I smile at the discomfort in Boxcar’s voice.
We turn the corner and step over the blood-covered body as we move a little faster to catch up with Lilah.
“Lilah, wait up,” I say as she reaches the stairwell.
Fox nods. “How are we looking up there, Box?”
“The landing is clear,” he answers. “But…”
We inch up the stairs behind Lilah, hanging back as she checks out Boxcar’s blind spots.
“But what?” I ask.
“It’s weird. The entire west wing is nearly empty. Gio’s study; empty. The kitchen; empty. Dining room; nada.”
“Where did they go?” Fox asks.
“I’m looking— okay. Marilyn and Caleb are in the eastern hallway, heading toward… Oh.”
I bite down. “Boxcar…”
“The chapel,” he says. “They’re heading toward the chapel.”
I glance at Fox as he looks at me. “Why?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“I’d say it but I can tell by your voice that you already know.”
I exhale hard.
“Box,” Fox says, “are the girls still in their rooms?”
“Uh… yeah.” He groans softly. “And they’re wearing white.”
“We don’t have much time,” I say.
Lilah looks the other way. “Sparky, how many men are in the chapel?” she asks.
“I don’t know. There are no cameras in there.”
She nods. “Which way is it?”
“Hold on.”
I shake my head. “Lilah, we should stick together.”
“It’s okay,” she says, wiping her knife on her black pants. “You guys go get Dani and Lucy. I’ll head to the c
hapel for a little recon, find out what we’re dealing with.”
“The last time you went ahead for a little recon, you—”
“Straight ahead, Lilah,” Boxcar says. “I’ll guide you.”
“Relax, big brother,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.”
“No,” I say. “Lilah—”
She takes off, ignoring me.
“The halls are still clear for now,” Boxcar says for us. “Move now or forever hold your peace.”
Fox nudges my arm. “Come on.”
I take a final look down the hall as my baby sister’s shadow disappears around the corner.
Fifty-Six
Caleb
“I have such a wonderful surprise for you tonight, Ms. Fawn,” Marilyn says as we walk down the hall. She moves so slowly, taking her sweet ass time on each long stride, I feel a growing urge to shove her forward.
“Oh, yeah?” I mutter, humoring her.
“I can tell you’ve been melancholy,” she says, glancing at me, her eyes quickly falling to my handcuffs. “I understand you’re torn over whether you’d like to accept my offer or not.”
Actually, no. You can shove your offer straight up your—
“But I wanted to take the opportunity to show you all the good that Snake Eyes can do,” she says.
I halt in my tracks. “The what?”
She stops and turns to face me. “It’s not all guns and bloodshed, you know. Our organization is really about…” Her lips curl into a sly smile. “Well, it’s about family.”
“Is that right?”
Marilyn continues on, fully expecting me to keep up with her tortoise-like pace. “I’d like nothing more than to open my family to you and Mr. Carson,” she says. “In fact, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the two of you would fit right in here.”
I don’t say a word. If I tried, it might come out like some maniacal banshee cry.
Snake Eyes is about family? Are you fucking kidding me, lady?
Destroying families; more like.
Marilyn pauses in front of a large pair of double doors and places her hand on my shoulder. I look at it, trying to hide my disgust as I see Dani’s ring still nestled on her old, worn-down finger.