Beautiful Assassin

by Skyla Madi

I follow the same route I did this morning, hurrying as quickly as I can toward the heavy, white drapes that are now open, exposing the extravagant backyard and monstrous swimming pool. I squint as the morning sun kisses my skin, warming me. I reach for the sliding door and push it to the side. Stepping out onto the stone porch, I freeze at the sight before me. Lush, green trees as far as the eye can see. The air is cool, much cooler than I was expecting for a hot summer’s day. Where the hell am I? Am I even in Sydney anymore?

  Grrrrrrrrr…I snap my head to the left and my stomach sinks into my shoes. Dogs—large dogs—and there’s two of them. They stand, tense and ready to attack, their black and gold coats shining in the sun. Sweat bubbles up the back of my neck and across my top lip as my jaw trembles.

  I hunch low, my hands outstretched in front of me.

  “It’s okay…” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m not—”

  Bark! I flinch and they jolt forward, both of them, and bare their teeth. I’m not scared of mob bosses or gangsters, but put a dog in the same room with me and I’ll cry like a little girl. I back away, toward the door.

  They can smell fear. Don’t show them fear.

  “It’s okay,” I say, a little louder this time, but I can’t shake the tremble in my tone. “I’m not a bad guy.”

  Bark!

  Tears well in my eyes and the gigantic Rottweilers become unfocused, black blots in my vision. They slowly advance and I can’t run. I’m not quick enough. I all but curl up into a ball when a third black dot adds to my vision—a taller one. I blink rapidly until I can see him clearly. Stefan. He stands behind the dogs, his face pinched into a frown. They’re his? He owns them?

  “Going somewhere?”

  I shake my head and a tear drops onto my cheek. “I was just…” I glance at the dogs. They maintain their tense stares, waiting for Stefan to give the signal to attack. “Just getting fresh air.”

  “Fresh air, huh?”

  I nod.

  “You didn’t think to open a window?”

  Swiping at the tear on my cheek, I shake my head again. He steps forward, so do his dogs, and air is forced from my lungs in panic.

  “Stefan…” I squeeze out in a harsh whisper. “I can’t…I don’t…” I swallow hard. “I’m scared of dogs.”

  My heel hits the edge of the door and I gasp as I back into the house. They follow. They force me through the house until I’m back in my room. I lower myself onto the bed and Stefan clicks his long fingers. My heart slams into my ribs as his dogs relax and sit at his feet, panting all friendly-like.

  “Dogs are great companions, Cammie.” He smiles at me. “This is Romeo, and that’s Juliet. They’ll keep you company while I’m gone.”

  Steely fear straightens my spine. “While you’re gone? Where are you going?”

  He plucks a white rose from the vase by the door. “Work.”

  Romeo, the bigger dog, jumps onto my bed and drops into the space next to me. Stefan watches, amused, as I lean away. “Please don’t leave me here.”

  He turns away. “Don’t go outside and you’ll be fine.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but my words become stuck in my throat as Juliet drops her heavy body onto my feet.

  I close my eyes and focus on the beat of my heart. It’s quick. It’s irregular. I breathe deeply through my nose and hold it in my chest before letting it slip out between my lips.

  Stuck. Alone. With two dogs?

  This is my worst nightmare.

  ∞ Stefan Valentino ∞

  I pull up outside Moretti’s front door and sit back and sigh. The drive here was a fucking nightmare. When I got in, I realised my car still had Cammie’s blood all over it, so I took it as deep as I could into the forest and I burned it. I had to cover my beautiful baby in gasoline so it would burn faster. Fucking devastating…then I had to go buy a new one real quick.

  And now I’m late. I spot Christiano’s white SLR across the way. Moretti is going to kick my ass and I hate that I’m going to have to take it like a little bitch in front of a Russo. Most of the time, I’m a solo contractor, but Moretti hires me regularly, and since I haven’t completed his contract, I’m technically still his employee.

  I exit the car and lock it behind me. As I climb the stairs, I stuff the key into my pocket. Bryan and Joss wait at the door, standing tall in their all black suits, like the dickheads they are.

  “You’re late, Valentino,” Joss drums out in his deep, rough voice. “Boss isn’t going to be happy.”

  I yank off my black sunglasses and fold them up. “Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

  I grab the handle of the front door and tug it open. More men line the hall inside the manor and they all stare at me like I’m an idiot.

  Screw them. Screw Moretti. He knows I live out of town.

  I ignore them as I walk. In fact, I ignore everyone as I stalk through the manor—even the pretty house maid I normally exchange glances with. She’s nothing special, a short brunette with thin, black frame glasses, but her tattoos are incredible. I wanted to see them in their entirety when I first got here, but once I laid eyes on Cammie all I wanted was a caramel blonde with clean skin.

  Eventually, I make it to Franco’s office. I want to barge in. I want to kick the damn door down. Instead, I knock gently and the door opens. I step inside the poorly lit office and meet the impatient glares of five men. Torres, who’s the door guy; Tony; Christiano Russo; their muscle guy—whatever the fuck his name is—and Franco Moretti. Cups of coffee sit in front of them. All untouched.

  “How good of you to finally show up, Valentino.”

  I hate it when Franco calls me by my last name. It’s cold…and I don’t like it when powerful people I have contracts with are cold toward me. It sets me on edge.

  “I live out of town.” I step inside and Torres closes the heavy, wooden door behind me.

  “We were just talking about you,” Christiano says, watching me carefully.

  I make my way toward Franco. “All good things, I hope.”

  He spits on the carpet, like the animal he is. “So you’re a funny guy?”

  I shrug, sitting on the edge of Moretti’s low set bar. “Not really.”

  Christiano cuts his black eyes at me and I can already see it in his glare. He thinks I have his queen. He smooths his palms down the front of his expensive, white silk shirt. God, he looks like shit. I guess he hasn’t been sleeping well without her.

  Good.

  “I find it convenient that my fiancée goes missing once you come to town.”

  Is that an accusation? Maybe he isn’t as stupid as I thought.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were engaged.” Oh, it takes a lot to fight off my smile when I think about the engagement ring he gave her. It’s in my pocket, taunting me. “Congratulations.”

  Christiano’s jaw ticks. Over and over and over and over. I stare back, waiting for him to crack under the pressure. He’s not like his father. Marco is a monster, sure, but he’s patient. Christiano, however, is the opposite. He’s rarely patient…like his brother and his uncles. They were irrational right up until I gassed them in their homes. Moretti’s orders. Speaking of which, it must kill Marco to have the man who murdered his wife sitting just on the other side of his desk. I clench the edge of the bar. I’d kill them all right now and I’d do it for free. I did mention that it was immoral to kill a man without payment and I stick by that. I’d take Cammie in return for their lives.

  “I hope you’re not stupid enough to pay this guy to kidnap my woman, Moretti,” Christiano states, flicking his attention to Franco.

  “For the moment,” Franco begins, “we live in peace. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “As a show of good faith, I will have a handful of my men keep an eye out for your beloved fiancée.”

  I roll my eyes. Beloved? Bullshit.

  “No, thank you,” Christiano grumbles, shifting in his seat. “My men are more than capable.”


  He turns his glare to me and I stare back. I don’t know what Cammie ever saw in this guy. A pang of jealousy punches me in the stomach and I clench my jaw. The fact she still might see something in him doesn’t sit well. Though, I do have to hand it to him for keeping her out of the business for her safety. I’d do the same.

  “Suit yourself,” Franco says, amusement lacing his gruff tone. “The offer stands, if you ever change your mind.”

  “Noted.” Christiano looks at Tony and flicks his head toward the door.

  I push off of the bar and straighten my posture, ready to go if any of them try anything on their way out. Stuffing one hand into the pocket of his black jeans, Christiano presses the tips of his fingers against Moretti’s heavy oak desk.

  “If I find out you are responsible for Cammie’s disappearance in any way, I will burn your budding empire to the ground and snub your entire family line from this earth. Capito?”

  Franco simpers, relaxing into the soft leather of his chair. “You think you’re invincible. You’re not.”

  Christiano slides his teeth together. “We’ll see.”

  He cuts his eyes at me before turning toward the door with Tony and the brute in tow. Torres lets them out of the room and they take most of the tension in the air with them. Most. The rest lingers with Franco and his obvious frustration.

  “Vaffanculo!” he growls, slamming his hands against the table.

  I tug at my tie, loosening it. “Relax. They don’t know anything.”

  Franco launches from his seat with a shout, pushing all of the things off his desk. “We aren’t ready for a war.” Papers fly through the air. “You have to kill the girl and get rid of the body. I don’t want it linking back to me.”

  I watch, silent, as he shrugs out of his heavy, black sports jacket and tosses it to the floor. He rounds his chair, stomping as he goes to the bar where I stand. Franco grabs a crystal decanter of whiskey from the square rack and tosses the lid. Forgoing a glass, he takes a swig directly from the bottle. Good. He’s going to need the whiskey to take the edge off what I’m about to say.

  “I’m not killing the girl, Franco.”

  His chubby fingers tighten around the bottle and he sets his beady stare on me. My BPM monitor wrapped around my wrist vibrates against my skin, letting me know my heart rate is increasing. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little nervous. With unnatural calmness, Moretti lowers the bottle and gently places it on the bar.

  “We have a contract, Valentino. I’ve already paid you half of the full amount.”

  “I’m aware.”

  Franco reaches for a glass and a fresh bottle of whiskey. He quirks a busy eyebrow, offering me a drink. I’d sooner sip from the same bottle he did. To accept a drink in my line of work is like playing Russian roulette with five bullets in a six-shooter. I shake my head.

  He pushes them to the side. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “And yet, you expect me to trust you?”

  I grit my teeth. Touché.

  “You believe the girl to be innocent?”

  “Innocent?” I shrug. None of us are innocent. “All I know is she has no idea about the Russos going international or the supposed heroin shipment they’re bringing in. She can’t give you the information you want.”

  Franco takes a swig of his whiskey. “And I’m supposed to just let her go? The first thing she’ll do is run to Christiano Russo and then we’re all fucked.”

  The cogwheels in my head turn. “Not necessarily.”

  He curses in Italian. “You’re not thinking straight, Valentino. You’ve completed plenty of contracts with me in the past, no problem, but the first time I give you a target with tits, your cock gets in the way.”

  I laugh at the absurdity of his accusation. There’s more to Cammie Connors than her tits and ass. Her physical appearance is outstanding, sure, but in no way determines whether or not I can bring myself to kill her. It boils down to one simple thing.

  Her guiltiness.

  She hasn’t done anything besides getting herself involved with the psychotic Christiano Russo, and I don’t think that’s something she should be killed for.

  “Do you think so low of me?” I tilt my head. “I haven’t let you down. Not ever. Give me the deed to Cammie’s life and I’ll bring you someone who knows exactly what the Russos are up to.”

  “Who?”

  “Tony.”

  “You’ve gone mad, Valentino,” he snaps. “Absolutely not.”

  “Listen.” I plant my palms on the cool bar surface. “Recently Tony has had a few problems with the South Sydney Scorpions.”

  Franco spits. “Those fuckers.”

  “Oh, you’ve heard of them?”

  “Heard of them? They’re fucking with my rackets south of the bridge.”

  “Well, word on the street is they’ve threatened Tony’s life. We take him, get the information, and then we kill him. The Russos will wipe out the Scorpions and you get what you want. Simple.”

  Chewing the inside of his lip, he contemplates what I said. “And the girl? How do we stop her from talking?”

  “I’ll deal with that.” He laughs, turning away from me, dismissing my suggestion. “She’s loyal to a fault, Moretti. I think I can even convince her to come back to the U.S. with me.”

  I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m being impulsive, thinking off the top of my head which, I’ll admit, has never been my strongpoint. Earlier I wanted her out of my house and now I want to keep her there? Where is the logic?

  He laughs again, pinning me with an ugly sneer. “You’re delusional, boy. What do you have that Christiano doesn’t, hm?”

  I grind my teeth. I am twice the man Christiano will ever be. I might not have a gigantic criminal empire, but I have solitude. I have peace and quiet in the days I’m not working. Not to mention that, unlike Christiano, I’ve never raised my hand to a woman, I’ve never forced myself onto a woman, and I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied. I bet all of the money in my account that Cammie would love that.

  “Are you happy to change the terms of our contract or not?” I ask. “I guarantee I’ll have her throwing away her engagement ring by the end of the week.”

  He licks his teeth, watching me in thought. “Let’s make it interesting. I’ll give you an additional million if you can get her to toss her ring. If not, you get nothing and everything I’ve already paid you is returned to me.”

  Fun fact. I have a personality flaw…and it’s gambling. I nod. “If she tosses her engagement ring, you give me the money and her contract, and I bring you Tony.”

  With a final mouthful of his whiskey, he sets the bottle on the bar and slaps his hands together. “Fine, but if you fuck it up, Stefan, Cammie Connors is as good as dead.”

  If I fuck it up, we’re all as good as dead.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I say, turning away from him. “At the usual spot.”

  “Don’t fuck it up.”

  Torres opens the door and closes it behind me as I step out into the spacious hall. I storm down the corridor, moving in the direction of the exit.

  “Unh!” I grunt as I’m shoved into the wall by—fuck—Christiano Russo. I push back against his slim build only to be pinned by a second set of hands. Tony.

  My new target.

  “Where is she?” Christiano demands, breathing in my face.

  He has some mighty big balls, attacking me in Moretti’s house like this. He must be desperate. I could provoke him…I could tell him that she kissed me, that she pressed her fine, feminine frame against me and I liked it. I could confess I washed her long hair in the bath this morning. Would he kill me out of rage? Would he string me up by my wrists and torture me until I told him where she was? I guarantee he won’t be able to find her without me.

  “How would I know?”

  “You fucking know!” Tony growls, clenching my collar in his fists.

  I hold myself still, even though anger stirs in my
stomach. I could kill them. They’ve made it easy. Christiano stands with his feet shoulder width apart. The perfect stance for a kick to his nuts. It wouldn’t take long for him to drop after I connect, freeing my arm enough to deliver a pretty devastating punch to Tony’s mouth. Then I’d pull my handgun on them.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  No more cockroaches.

  “If I find out you so much as looked at her wrong, I will gut you where you stand.”

  I cut my eyes at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

  With a rough shove, Christiano and Tony turn away from me. I push off of the wall, stuffing my hands into the pocket of my slacks. The tips of my fingers brush against the ring. The engagement ring I took off of Cammie’s hand the night I broke into her apartment. I remember the subtle exhale of relief she expelled when I slipped it over her last knuckle. She doesn’t want to marry him. No female in their right mind would want to marry him.

  “Maybe Cammie ran away from you,” I call out before I can stop myself. “Ever considered that?”

  Christiano freezes, broadening his shoulders. I struck a nerve. I bet he’s considered it every night he’s had to sleep without her. Meanwhile, I’ve been sleeping on the floor beside her bed, making sure her vitals are up. I stare at their backs, waiting for them to turn around and come after me. They don’t. They don’t even look over their shoulders before storming down the lengthy hall.

  I wait for them to completely disappear before I head back to my vehicle. Outside, Christiano’s car is gone, thankfully, but he did leave a little gift behind for me. Chuckling, I approach my car and swipe my finger along the thick carving that runs up the driver’s side. He keyed my new fucking car. It’s so deep no amount of buffing will get it out.

  I turn to Joss, who’s still standing by the door. He’s about as useless as a flat chested stripper.

  “You didn’t stop him?” I snap, swiping my arm over my damp forehead.

  He shrugs. What’d I tell you? Fucking useless.

  Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I pull open my door and drop into the seat. The sooner I bring Tony to Moretti and kill him, the sooner I can get the hell out of Sydney. First, I need to go to my storage unit and gather the few things that I’m going to need for tonight. Funnily enough, killing Tony is the least of my worries. Once I’m done, I have to go home and spend the next—God knows how long—convincing a woman I barely know to trust me more than her fiancé…