by Lenise Lee
“There’s one more thing, sir,” the analyst said. Hesitation drained his voice. “It’s about the DNA samples we sent to the Federal Crime Lab in Arlington.”
“Tell me,” Marco hastily replied.
The anxious man did not actually need to hear the report, because he had already drawn his own shocking conclusion. Still, Marcello had to know for certain...he had to hear the words spoken aloud.
“They analyzed the DNA from the skin cells found beneath Katerina’s nails and from the strand of hair that was on her dress.”
“And?” Marco was impatient to confirm his worst fear.
“The results are ninety-nine point nine, eight percent conclusive that the DNA is yours, sir.”
The analyst swallowed hard after he spoke the accusing words. He and the rest of the dedicated team were reluctant to believe that their noble commander was both the killer and the allusive smuggler they had been hunting for all along. Marcello, however, knew the full and terrible truth. The reality stinging his ears raced forward into a full collision with his doubting mind like a savage train wreck. If all the evidence had not been so clearly laid out before him to stitch together with shaky reluctance, the seasoned agent would have refused to believe the revelation that was dropped on him. The startling truth had been mocking him at no more than an arm’s distance away this entire time.
Marcello’s fascination with Marissa had blinded the distracted agent to so many obvious clues. But now he had a crystal clear understanding of how each piece fit together to form one incredible discovery…Katerina’s increasingly disturbed behavior over these past few months…The brawl with the strong man – who was nearly his equal – in the alleyway…Marissa’s stolen keycard…the second hotel room…his own face shadowing him from concealed corners on the security footage…Katerina allowing her killer to move in so close without a struggle…the DNA…the initials RAM – when reversed – all pointed to the same rotten conclusion and the same vile person...Mauricio Antonio Rossi, his once beloved, and supposedly deceased, twin brother.
A man who has already been declared dead does not need to conceal his face or cover his identity very much. The world assumed that Mauricio no longer roamed the earth. Being caught on the hotel’s security cameras was never an immediate threat. Mauricio was free to hide in plain sight, because his face was practically identical to Marcello’s, a man who was never under any suspicion.
Terror struck Marcello in the pit of his stomach. He had revealed so much to Marissa in the early AM hours concerning his past, yet he had neglected, by simple misfortune, to tell her that the brother he had spoken of was a man who wore a face that perfectly matched his own. Even the two men’s voices were strikingly similar. The only distinctive difference between their appearances was the very subtle contrast of their eye color. Mauricio’s deep cobalt blue eyes were a few shades darker than Marcello’s ice blue tint. Other than this small variation, there was no way Marissa would immediately perceive any other differences in the identical brothers’ rich Mediterranean features. Even worse, he had left her with a strict instruction not to open the door for anyone other than himself. She would never know that the imposter was lurking nearby until it was tragically too late.
“Send more agents from the embassy to my new hotel suite. Tell the ones already stationed at the hotel not to let anyone…not even anyone who looks like me…enter until I get there. Also, tell them to bring the portable retinal scanner. They are going to need it to confirm who I really am.” Marco barked out the orders as he dashed toward the exit. “I cannot explain everything right now. Please believe me when I say that a vicious imposter is headed that way.”
With his urgent commands given, Marco disappeared from the room and raced toward his parked sedan. The agent’s tires peeled away the cold asphalt street as he sped toward La Grand Roi. During the entire heart-pumping drive, he prayed he was not too late to save his love from the merciless man whom he had once shared a lifetime of laughs, dreams, and even the moment of birth with.
Chapter Fourteen
Illusion
“How was the service?”
Marissa chatted with Jasmine while she finished dressing. She stretched out on the bed to button the jeans her bodyguard had delivered thirty minutes ago. Just as she was about to speak again, a muffled thump caught her attention. Marissa pulled the phone away from her ear and listened for the sound to be repeated. Once a few seconds crept by, and only silence filled the air, she assumed one of the two men standing outside the door had dropped something.
“Okay, that’s good,” she said, returning to her conversation. “I always like when their assistant pastor preaches. He makes his point easy to understand.”
The ding of the chiming doorbell drew her eyes toward the entrance of the penthouse. A heavy veil of dread dropped on her chest. Without realizing it, Marissa’s sight had automatically fixed on the manual deadbolt hanging across the doorway. A sigh of relief slipped from her nostrils when Marissa saw that the safety latch was in place. It was the only real barrier standing between her and any trouble looming in the outside world. Even so, she would not feel completely at ease until Marco returned. Memories of the fiery kisses they had shared a few hours ago vividly flashed through her mind. He had been gone less than an hour, yet she already missed and craved his protective and passionate presence.
“Where are you going now?” The apprehensive woman continued talking to her sister, desperately trying to keep her voice calm and to pull her erratic pulse to a steady pace. “Going to lunch with who?” While she waited for Jasmine to fill her in on the details of her double date with Nivea, Pierce, and Mr. Nice-guy Alex, Marissa moved a few inches closer toward the door. “Hmm…I don’t know about this, Jaz. Nichole has never had a soft spot for Pierce and I don’t want you getting mixed up in their drama. Besides, when did you and Alex become so tight? I thought you just met him yesterday.” Marissa paused and listened to the previously untold details of her sister’s first meeting with the sweet man. “At the park? When was this?”
The bell rang again, and then once more. The sounds were longer and more aggressive this time. After Marissa crept closer toward the eyehole, she peered through and was slightly stunned to see Julius’ distorted image staring blankly at the front of the door. Without saying a word, she stepped away from the entrance. No one should have known where she was staying now, because Marissa never logged herself into the hotel’s registry.
“Jaz, I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” she said, dropping her tone down to a whisper. Another buzz of the doorbell echoed against the walls of the suite. The creek of the knob caused Marissa to almost drop the cell phone. Someone had swiped an access card and was trying to push the door open. Only the deadbolt halted their entry into the penthouse. “No…nothing’s wrong, I just need to check on something. I promise to call you right back. Love you.”
Marissa hastily ended the call. Suddenly, the door pulled completely closed, sealing Marissa alone in the room again. Her mind raced for a decision...Approach the door or silently wait for the man to announce himself? It was odd that Marco’s men had allowed Julius to come this close. The cautious woman turned her ear toward the outside corridor and listened for their voices, but heard nothing. Strange, she thought, taking another step backward. The men were trained to only follow Marco’s commands. They were both built like tanks, so a man as tragically thin as Julius would never have been able to harm either of them. So why aren’t they saying anything…not a word? Another worried thought pierced her mind.
Then Marissa heard it, an intimately familiar voice. The hushed bass was definitely infused with a fluent Italian accent. Even though his voice was muffled, Marco’s angry tone was obvious to the naked ear. Why hadn’t he called to let her know he was on his way?
Marissa approached the door and grabbed the bolt. Her fingers were clenched and ready to turn the lock, and then a stabbing jolt of apprehension froze her movements. There was something unusual about Marco’s
voice. Now that she was closer, although Marissa still could not decipher the muted conversation, she could hear that he did not sound like himself. His usually casual tone sounded furious and vicious. Before this moment, she had never heard him speak to anyone this harshly. There was only one way for Marissa to decide whether she should unlock the bolt or remain cringing behind the door.
“Who is it?” Once Marissa called out the question, she positioned her face near the peephole again.
“Hey, Marissa…It’s me, Julius.” When the man spoke, there was nervousness hidden in his voice.
“Hi…Did you need something?” Marissa and the second supervisor had been cordial to each other, but never friends, so there was no reason to pretend otherwise at a crucial minute such as this one.
“Yeah…I came to check on you. I mean...after last night...I wanted to make sure you were okay. It was stressful for all of us, you know?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”
He didn’t budge. Silence hung outside the door. No one spoke…Not Marco, not his men, and neither did Julius. As Marissa was staring at him, Julius glanced to his right side. Afterward, he looked to his left and glanced downward. The grimace of terror never abandoned his pale face.
“Actually, I do need something from you.” He sputtered out a cough then spoke up again, sounding more edgy this time. “I have to open the vault and you know I need a second keycard to get inside.”
“Why do you need mine? Can’t you call Schaeffer?”
It was at that moment when Marco finally spoke. His request was sharp and directly to the point.
“Marissa, open the door, please.”
“Marco?” She paused, forcing her fingers not to turn the latch. “Where are you? I can hear you, but I don’t see you.”
“I am here,” he answered then stepped in front of the eyehole. “I need to gain access to my jewels. Please open the door.”
A nagging intuition continued to urge Marissa to be cautious. The woman knew she had no reason to fear Marco; nonetheless, her mind would not ease its guard against him. She slipped the old-fashioned hook and chain into place. It was an aging remnant of a long ago era, before digital security; still, it was enough to keep the men on the other side of the door until she could make a closer inspection of them. Marissa unlocked the bolt and eased the door away from its frame. A tiny sliver of the view into the hallway appeared, which was hastily blocked by a slim outline of Marco’s handsome face.
“See,” he smiled, yet there was no sincerity behind his grin, “It is me.”
Perhaps this case was wearing the man’s nerves down to a raw and agitated edge. This was how Marissa reasoned out the harsh change in Marco’s charming features. Maybe her own frazzled nerves were causing the illusion of a cruel transformation in the man who had loved her so tenderly a few hours ago. Marissa nodded and returned a low smile to him.
As she pulled the chain away from the brass latch, a shrill noise – like a cruel whip snapping the air – broke the brief silence. The sound of a damp thud, almost as though a body had crumpled to the carpeted floor, soon followed. A heavy hand forced the door from its frame, nearly breaking it completely off the rigid hinges.
Before Marissa could open her mouth to scream in terror, Marco lunged at her. The barrel of a gun’s silencer was pointed at her head and his menacing hand was reaching for her hoarse throat.
Chapter Fifteen
Reunion
The drive to the hotel was frantic and nearly fatal. Marco had blazed his speeding car through no fewer than half a dozen red lights, burning a trail through the middle of congested midtown traffic, and barely pausing to round sharp corners. He had lost sight of the police cruisers that were tailing him five minutes ago.
Although the station was only a few blocks from La Grande Roi, the alarmed agent’s destination seemed impossibly far away. When he ran into the lobby, the three men from his unit that were stationed on the ground floor were nowhere to be seen. He assumed they must have received the orders to retrieve the portable eye scanner and were headed up to the penthouse apartment by way of the stairs. He had no time to stop and check because too many precious seconds were already slipping out of his frantic grasp. Time was ticking down, and his chances for saving Marissa’s life from a dismal fate were growing slim with every passing minute.
Wide and frightened eyes tagged his frenzied path through the main lobby. Under normal circumstances, standard training would have led him toward the safer route up the hotel’s stairs. However, this was no routine emergency. Marcello needed to retrieve as much time as possible so he opted for the elevator instead. As soon as the metal doors swung open on the thirtieth floor, the black ops soldier exited with stiff arms and his handgun extended toward the first target that moved. A quick survey in both directions along the corridor revealed two important facts. Marcello was the first living person to arrive on the scene. He was also the only living person in the hallway. His brother had left a grim and bloody trail at the end of the corridor. Two members of his tactical team were mortally wounded. Each man was lying in a broken slump on each side of the door. Just above their bodies, dark crimson stains were spattered on the walls. They had probably made the tragic mistake of assuming Mauricio was their team leader. This would have been the only reason why the men would have allowed him to approach without drawing their weapons first.
Marco approached the door to the suite on stealthy feet. As his adrenaline-filled body moved silently into the penthouse, his footsteps barely touched the carpet. There was no need to use his shoulder to hammer the door open. The solid material was already twisted in a crooked position away from its frame. Just inside of the doorway, the agent’s eyes dashed downward and landed on a third body crumpled between the guards...it was another male. Julius’ eyes were wide-open, frozen for all time in mortal terror. Mauricio must have brought him along to gain access to the penthouse. When that plan had failed, probably because of the deadbolt Marco told Marissa to use, the scheming man had become useless to the killer.
A gruff voice exploded into the air, and a fearful whimper quickly followed. Not wanting to waste another moment on those who could not be helped, Marco returned his focus to the rescue of his woman. He sprinted further into the space of the suite. His weapon was aimed and ready to discharge once the enemy was in range. His sweep of the first room revealed no one in sight, but the voices were very close. Marco crossed the vacant foyer then rounded the corner leading into the master bedroom.
Shock…anger…hate…love…confusion, all these emotions raced through his mind and body in one congested and severe rush. The cruel vision he saw standing before him stripped Marco’s sense of reality to its painful limits. The man he was staring at was no illusion. Everything Marco hoped was a mistake was all proved dreadfully true. His twin brother had somehow managed to claw his way from an empty grave, and had brought all the chaos of the pit with him to wreak upon the world.
“Mauricio!” Painful agony drenched Marco’s voice. He yelled out his brother’s name, calling the murderer’s attention to him.
As the villain turned, an inhuman smile clung to the face of the man who, for most of their lives, was once Marco’s best friend and partner. Sharp blue eyes, several shades deeper than Marco’s irises, caught sight of the semi-automatic he was aiming. In a fraction of a heartbeat, Mauricio pulled Marissa in front of him and locked her against his chest. With one hand, he snapped a brutal vice grip around her neck. Mauricio used the other palm to position the long silencer of his gun only a hair’s breadth from the terrified woman’s temple.
“Marcello…fratello,” the villain said while beaming out a maniacal smile.
Sincere glee was painted on his cheeks. Truly, his brother had gone mad. This was not a tender reunion. The two men were now facing each other as enemies to the death, yet Mauricio’s face seemed delighted, even relieved, to lay eyes on his closest flesh and blood once again.
Another soft cry crept into Marco’s ea
rs. The killer gripped Marissa’s throat so tight that she was struggling to drag in precious sips of air. Her hazelnut skin was quickly draining of its rich color. Marco’s pulse pounded beneath his skin. Drops of sweat slithered from the corners of his slick blond hair and coursed down the sides of his face. He stepped forward, desperate to save his lover from Mauricio’s cruel hand, which held her life within its brutal fold.
“Non ti muovere!” Mauricio’s glare mutated from loving to insanely dangerous.
He tightened his grip even more. Marissa’s eyelashes fluttered wildly then the whites of her eyes floated upward. Marco steadied his aim, lining up his finger on the sensitive trigger.
“Move again, and she is dead. I can crush her throat faster than you can pull the trigger, fratello. You remember my speed…I was always faster than you, and I still am today. If I can squeeze the life from my own love, you know I will do so to yours without a thought.”
Realizing the truth of his brother’s words, Marco lifted his index finger and lowered the weapon, but only slightly. His hands remained tingling and ready to react at a second’s notice. It was not his wish to end his twin’s life; nevertheless, to save Marissa, he would do so without hesitation. The other man – once a protector of justice, now a deranged criminal – had made that decision for him.
“Let her breathe.” Marco spoke the words flatly, as though speaking to a stranger, not family.
Mauricio opened his palm slightly and Marissa instantly sucked in a huge gulp of oxygen.
“See, Marco, I can still be a good guy,” his brother said with a mutant grin.
“Perché, Mauricio?” Marco’s voice softened. A tiny wave of sympathy and brotherly love touched his spirit. “Why have you done all these horrible things? What has happened to you, mio fratello?”