Blood Script

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Are you crazy?” Nicholas hissed into his ear. “Stay there. I’ll meet you. We’ll go together.”

  James shook his head. “Someone needs to man the ship, and I need you to watch over Cora. Bishop won’t kill me.”

  It was a lie. James had no idea where his fate rested after the meeting. Odds were, Bishop would kill him and dump his body into the lake. That was what James would do to someone who double crossed him and ruined his plans, and could possibly ruin them even more.

  “Is that James?” Cora’s frantic voice flittered through from the background. It swept into his ear and rolled down to noose around his gut. “I want to talk to him.”

  He half wanted to tell Nicholas not to, that he needed a clear head for what he needed to face, but he couldn’t. If it was his last hour on earth, he needed to hear her voice.

  “James?”

  He forced a grin into his voice. “Hey sweetheart.”

  “Where are you? What’s going on?”

  Lying and telling her everything would be all right sprung to his lips, but he’d made her a promise the night before and Captain James Crow never welched on a promise.

  “I’m meeting someone,” he told her, careful to keep his tone level. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be home soon.”

  “No, come home now.”

  He shut his eyes against the shaky plea. “Not yet, but I’ll make it up to you.”

  “James...”

  “Hey, what did I say? I’ll be home and I fully intend to finish what we started last night, and this time, your mother’s not going to save you.”

  He heard her unstable inhale. “Just come home, okay?”

  “Be a good girl, yeah?”

  He hung up before she could say anything else. He pushed the phone into his pocket and stalked the remaining twenty feet.

  He spotted Bishop almost immediately. The Brit hadn’t changed in the four years since their last visit. He still radiated with authority. It exuded off him in thick tendrils of heat that chased away the nipping winds coming off the water.

  He stood at the railings, hands braced on the cold iron, back to James. The breeze toyed with his gray suit, making the fabric wave around his long legs. But he seemed somehow immune to its bite.

  Unlike James who had to grit his teeth against the chill.

  “Hello James.” He motioned to the spot next to him. “Please.”

  James stepped into the spot, but gazed around them for signs of an ambush. At first glance, it appeared as though they were completely alone.

  James knew better.

  “Odd place.”

  “Calming,” Bishop corrected. “I like to watch the boats.”

  It was also completely open, James noted. It would take a well-trained sniper to be far enough away to seek cover, and still hit his target.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, I told you what I wanted.” He bunched up his nose. “I thought you wanted it too, but you betrayed me.”

  “You wanted Cora,” James reminded him with a steely edge. “I wasn’t going to give her to you.”

  “See, that’s where I get confused.” He turned his chin to James. “We had an arrangement. We had a plan. You agreed to the plan. But then you had an uncharacteristic change of heart. I suppose a pretty face will do that.” He faced forward once more. “Stronger men have faltered to beauty.”

  “You’re not getting Cora.”

  Bishop chuckled. “If I truly wanted her, there would be nothing you could do to stop me.” He turned away from the view and lean back into the railings instead. “But I don’t want her. I’ve moved past that stage.”

  “Then why set her apartment on fire?”

  Cool eyes met his with a fine sprinkling of amusement. “Did I? Well, that was sloppy of me, wasn’t it?”

  James narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying it wasn’t you?”

  Bishop shrugged. “It’s not beneath me, but I tend to make sure the people I want dead are actually dead, yet you and Cora escaped inexplicably. Tell me, is that how you would clean up a job?”

  James said nothing, but the man had a point. Setting a fire was the easiest way to ensure death, but he would have had the place surrounded to make sure no one escaped. Plus, all the exits would have been blocked, not just the front.

  “Now who would do that, mm?” Bishop pressed on with feigned frustration. “Perhaps someone who didn’t exactly want you dead, but had their own agenda.”

  There was only one person James knew who would benefit from Cora losing her apartment, one person who wanted desperately for her to move closer. But James had a hard time believing De Marco would put her life at risk to get what he wanted, yet it explained why he wasn’t overly concerned about finding the person who set the fire.

  He decided that was a contemplation better served at a later time. He had bigger matters to deal with.

  “So, what do you want?”

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted, a foothold into De Marco’s enterprises. I’ve gone ahead and already made room for you, all you have to do is accept.”

  Just like that, the pieces dropped into place, creating the full picture.

  “Roman Endrizzi. I knew that whole thing smelled rotten.”

  Bishop shrugged. “We’ve been working on him for years, systematically syphoning clan money into his account when he wasn’t looking. It took one whispered word into the right ear to get Giovanni De Marco’s right hand man dethroned, leaving De Marco vulnerable.”

  “He had kids, and a wife,” James bit out.

  Bishop sighed. “Every war has casualties, Crow. You can’t get soft about it. Besides, I thought you’d like that I got rid of him. Who do you think hired those men who murdered your sister?”

  James chose to ignore the goad.

  “So, what’s the plan here, exactly? I take Endrizzi’s place as De Marco’s handler?”

  “Exactly, and once the time’s right, you can replace De Marco as head of the clan. Everyone wins.”

  “Until you kidnap my daughter and replace me, right?”

  Bishop sighed. “De Marco could have had a long and fruitful life. He could have died in his sleep at the age of a hundred, but he got too big for his panties. He forgot who was loyal to him. He got arrogant and sloppy.”

  James squinted at the man. “He had you on his payroll.” It wasn’t a question, because it made the most sense. “What? Did he not pay you enough?”

  Bishop looked away. “Are you in or not, Captain?”

  “Not.” James rose. “I’m not helping you kill my wife’s father.”

  A slow chuckle escaped the other man. “That’s right. I nearly forgot. Congratulations are in order, aren’t they? You married the daughter of your worst enemy. How does that feel? I bet fucking her every night is the greatest payback known to man.”

  James grabbed the man by the collar and hoisted him up. “Careful, Bishop. There is nothing stopping me from killing you right here.”

  The man merely smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  James followed the man’s gaze to the dozen or so red dots spotting the front of James’s sweater.

  “You see? I never come unprepared.” He jerked out of James’s hold. “Now, are you sure I can’t convince you to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  Bishop hissed through his teeth. “That’s too bad. Well, have a lovely day, Captain.”

  James frowned. “That’s it?”

  Bishop blinked. “Were you expecting me to shoot you in the head and toss your body over? I had considered it, but what would be the point? My plan isn’t over and there are other ways to get what I want.”

  Cora spotted him the moment James strode down the corridor in the direction of the parlor. His feet had barely passed over the threshold when she had already launched herself at him. Her arms bound themselves with strangling force around his throat, eliminating his air supply.

  But he gathered her up, hoisting her so her legs had prope
r leverage around his hips. His arms coiled around her middle, keeping her to him as she breathed into his shoulder like she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice rasped against the fabric of his sweater.

  He nodded, hold tightening.

  Her back lifted and dropped rapidly beneath his crushing palms. He set her down once her grip on him loosened a fraction. His hands went to her face. He pushed back locks of hair to search her face.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah.” She swallowed. “I might have lost my cool a little, but I’m okay now.”

  James bit back his smile with a nod of his head. “I told you I’d be home, didn’t I?” when she nodded, he leaned down and pressed a kiss between her eyes where the skin was still crinkled with distress. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised. “But I need to talk to your father.”

  It took one glance over the room to realize they had company, three pairs of interested eyes watching the intimate exchange with varying degrees of contemplation. James ignored the prickle of annoyance as he led Cora to the sofa opposite her parents and nudged her to sit. Nicholas remained where he was by the window, a dark silhouette against the light.

  “I met with Bishop.” James lowered himself down in the spot next to Cora. “He says he doesn’t want Cora. I don’t believe him. Whatever his game plan is, I don’t know it.”

  “Who’s Bishop?” Cora asked, glancing from him to her father. “Is he the one who set my building on fire?”

  James fought not to glance at De Marco like he wanted to.

  “He’s the guy who hired me to take you,” he said instead. “He was going to use you to get to your father.”

  There were many reactions he expected from her upon hearing the news. Her slow, understanding nod wasn’t one of them.

  His surprise must have shown on his face, because Cora grinned a little. “He’s not the first person to use me to get to my father. He probably won’t be the last.”

  Something about the blasé remark irked him. The thought of her being used made his nerves prickle. But he pushed it aside. After all, using her to get to her father was exactly what he was doing.

  “He framed Roman Endrizzi,” James pressed on. “Bishop’s plan has apparently been going on long before I came along. Six years before. He made it look like Endrizzi was stealing money when in fact Bishop was planting it there.”

  “Oh!” Elise covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh, poor Roman.”

  De Marco didn’t move. He stared at his knees with an unreadable expression James understood perfectly; he was tricked into killing a close friend and loyal supporter. If word of that ever got out, he would be ruined. His clan would never trust him. His entire empire would fall apart.

  “You have a mole,” he told the man quietly. “Someone in Bishop’s pocket setting you up to fall. You need to do a cleanup of your entire organization.”

  Dark, brown eyes lifted, a sweep of cool indifference that fitted the man like a perfectly tailored suit. One hand brushed at the knee he’d been studying, an absent skim of pianist fingers. He drew in a breath, released it, and in that same motion, pushed to his feet.

  “Elise, love, can you get my phone from my office, please?”

  Elise, tears glistening on her cheeks, blinked. She wiped at them hurriedly and rose.

  “Mom?” Cora scrambled to her own feet and ran after her mom as the older woman stalked from the room.

  De Marco moved to the empty fireplace and peered down at the grates. “In the future, Captain, I would appreciate you keeping such intimate details of my business away from my wife.” He turned cold eyes on James. “This is a matter that should have been handled privately.”

  James sat back, using the time to decide if the man was being serious or not.

  “Did you hear me?” James said instead. “Someone in your clan wants you dead.”

  De Marco pulled his brows together in annoyance. “Someone always wants me dead. That isn’t news. But my wife doesn’t need to know.”

  “How does she not know?” James cried, exasperated. “Elise isn’t stupid. She’s been in the business a damn long time. Death for people like you and me are as common as the cold.”

  “She doesn’t need to be reminded of it!” De Marco roared, whirling on his heels. “There are many things in life that we play ignorant to, Captain. The death of the person you love is one of them.”

  James drew in a breath, a slow, steady inhale to keep his voice even. “That doesn’t change the fact. We need to find this person before they go after Elise or Cora. So, stop arguing with me and think.”

  De Marco paused to squint at something just over James’s shoulder. The deliberation had his brow creasing in confusion.

  “Why didn’t you accept the deal?”

  James frowned. “What deal?”

  The man returned to his seat. One ankle rested on a bent knee.

  “The deal Bishop offered you. The one that gives you the seat Roman left behind.”

  James shifted. His gaze darted to where Nicholas stood. The Romanian looked as bemused as James felt.

  “How did you—?”

  “I bugged your conversation,” De Marco answered without missing a beat. “When you were leaving. I heard everything.”

  James patted his own chest, then his pockets, searching for a device small enough to go undetected.

  “Your sleeve.” De Marco pointed.

  Sure enough, clinging to the soft wool of his sweat was a piece of tape that could have come from anywhere. No one would have noticed it if it hadn’t been pointed out.

  “You bugged me?”

  He tore the sticky microchip off his arm and flicked it down on the coffee table, where it sat, fuzzy with fibers and looking deceivingly innocent.

  De Marco smirked. “You don’t get to where I am without being underhanded.”

  “So, why make me go through this monkey dance if you already knew everything?”

  “To see how much of it you would actually tell me.” He picked a piece of lint off his own arm and brushed it aside. “I wanted to make sure I could trust you.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “That would be exceedingly stupid of you.”

  De Marco laughed. “It would be.” He sobered slightly, his eyes becoming more focused, shrewd as he took in James. “Tell me about your sister.”

  A spark hissed as rage crawled up his spine. It oozed into his gut. It coursed through his veins. Even Nicholas shifted.

  “She’s none of your business.”

  The man seemed unaffected by the cold splinters of warning vibrating between them.

  “Bishop seems to think I killed her, or rather Roman did, which is why Bishop had him killed.

  A series of pops erupted around them. It took James a second to realize it was his knuckles cracking as his fingers balled into fists between his knees.

  “My sister is a topic you and I are going to discuss once Bishop’s dead. It’ll be a very short conversation that will end with only one of us walking away.” James pushed to his feet. “Remember that the next time you decide to trust me.”

  He started for the door, needing to leave before he forgot his own promise and shot the man in the head. But Elise and Cora took that moment to return. Elise hurried to De Marco’s side with his phone in hand. Cora stopped next to James.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to check on my ship,” James said without missing a beat.

  “While I understand the importance of your ... endeavors, Captain. This has to take precedence,” Elise cut in. “This person is threatening to kill my entire family.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t care. He’d keep Cora safe. He’d take her somewhere far enough away that Bishop could never find her, somewhere with beaches and clear, blue waters. The only person left for Bishop to kill was De Marco and that wasn’t James’s concern.

  Only, it was, he thought with reluctance. If Bishop took De Marco
out, there went James’s revenge for Annie, and his parents. He couldn’t allow that. The bastard had to die under James’s hands, and James’s hands only.

  He drew in a breath and turned.

  “I will handle it.” De Marco rose fluidly and faced his wife. “If someone in my circle truly is to blame, then I will put a stop to it.”

  Elise shook her head. “How—?”

  “By doing what the Captain suggested.” Flat, brown eyes found James’s. “I’m going to clean house. In the meantime,” his attention returned to the woman. “You and Cora are to remain in the house. I will double security and make a few calls to insure your safety should anything happen.”

  “Clean house how?” Elise pressed. “What are you doing, Gio?”

  Without batting an eye, Gio bore into James, merciless, cold. “I’m going to kill all of them.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CORA

  In all the years Cora had seen her mother handle stress, it was never with a single-minded vengeance of a woman hell bent on numbing the world through distraction. The new, possessed woman planning the gala of the century terrified her.

  “I want Calla Lilies in slender, water vases with tea lights. Night life. Not whatever these are.” The bushel of crystal blush was shoved into the event planner’s hands. “I want fresh, radiant. Stick to our burgundy and gold pallet, Monique.”

  Cora watched from the opposite end of the ballroom as the rejected flowers were pushed into Monique’s assistant’s clutches and the group moved away from the centerpiece display to china.

  Elise circled the round table, one hand bunched loosely beneath her chin as she took in each set.

  “Is this all of it?”

  Monique, flustered and on the verge of unraveling, slanted a panicked glance in the direction of the mousy girl following at their heels. She had yet to speak and she kept just enough out of sight as to not draw Elise’s attention.

  It hadn’t been a good three weeks.

  Not for Monique.

  Not for her assistant.

  Not for Elise.

  Each new day that passed and news arrived that a new member of the De Marco clan was slaughtered, Elise became a little more tattered around the edges, a little more intent on closing herself off from everything, except throwing the biggest engagement party the city had ever seen.