by Sam Crescent
“He’s here?” She tugged on the t-shirt, scrambling to follow Gavriil across the room.
“Yeah, the perimeter alarms were triggered a couple of minutes ago,” Gavriil said in a voice that sounded remarkably calm. “He’s got Falcone with him. He was one of ours and close to John which means he knows the emergency code to get into the house.”
“They’re in the house?” Abigail scream-whispered.
“Yeah.”
“What should we do?” Abigail felt as if her heart were about to beat right out of her chest. “Do we call the police in a situation like this?” Gavriil gave her a look over his shoulder.
“Angelo comes to my home in the dead of night with a paltry team of four assholes, he’ll deal with me.”
Abigail frowned when Gavriil stepped up to a panel she hadn’t even noticed on the wall and when he placed his thumb against it, an entire section of the wall slid silently to the side. Behind it was what she assumed was the perfect example of a panic room. As soon as the door opened, lights came on, there were a bank of computer monitors that lit up to show various parts of Gavriil’s house and grounds, and there was even a bed. A glance at the wall behind the bed showed a few guns on the wall, too.
“In you go, moy angil,” Gavriil handed her into the room like he was helping her onto a dance floor and she must have still been half asleep because she let him.
“Wait!” she spun to face him. “Why can’t I go with you? Be your, what is it, wingman? Just give me a gun, I’m pretty sure I can work it out.”
Gavriil gave her a look that said he thought she was cute and she would have stamped her foot but figured that would have played directly into that thought.
“Baby, I’m going downstairs to take care of some unwanted pests,” Gavriil made it sound like he was just going to set a couple of mouse traps. “I need to know that you are completely safe in order for me to do that. And you will be, in here.”
Abigail went to step forward, but Gavriil stepped into her, wrapping an arm around her to pull her to him and slamming his mouth to hers, licking into her mouth and driving all intelligent thought from her mind. Her head was actually spinning when he finally let her go.
“Back in a minute,” Gavriil stepped back his arm reaching out to the side. “Ya tyebya lyublu, moy angil.”
Then the wall slid back into place. For a moment Abigail was too shocked to do anything but stand there like a moron staring at the wall.
“Damn you, Gavriil,” Abigail shouted, slamming her hand on the wall. “You had better not have just told me that you love me, you asshole! As soon as I can Google that shit I will, and if that’s what you said, I’m going to kick your ass.” Shocked for a moment, breathing heavily, she stepped back from the wall. “And you’ve got me swearing like a sailor on shore leave.”
Frustrated with herself, angry at him, but most of all scared shitless for both of them, she turned to the wall of monitors. She went to the desk and pulled out the chair. There were six monitors in front of her and she got a pretty good perspective of the entire house from those monitors. She spotted that douchebag Angelo in the living area downstairs. He was talking with two other men, all carrying weapons, indicating with his arm. She got the feeling he was directing them to look through the entire house.
She gasped when she saw Gavriil slide into the frame on another monitor, but the hall he was in was too dark for her to make out exactly where he was. “These screens are getting labels on them so I know where everyone is.”
As she watched, she marveled at how fluidly Gavriil moved. He crept along the wall then stopped just beside a turn in the hallway and waited. She frowned, wondering why he was just standing there, then her heart stopped when she saw another man step out into the hall just ahead of him. She cried out when Gavriil reached out to the man and pulled him closer. He did this crazy move she’d only ever seen in movies where he wrapped both hands around the man’s head, putting one hand on his shoulders and one on his forehead, and then dropped the now dead man to the ground.
Her heart began to beat again and she pressed the palm of her hand against her chest in an effort to keep the thing inside. “Oh, sweet Jesus. It’s hard being in love with a mafia man and isn’t that a sentence I never thought I’d say.” Abigail reached out her other hand and placed it over Gavriil’s image on the monitor, who was now stalking further down the hallway. “I do love you, Gavriil, you big oaf.”
Movement in another monitor, this one just inside the entryway to the house, caught her eye and what she saw had her heart racing once more. Another three men stepped into the house, all of them heavily armed. Two of them were dragging a female who looked to only just be conscious. There was blood dripping from various wounds on her clearly swollen face and the front of her white dress was bright red. She had an awful feeling this was Leona, and an aspect of the attack Gavriil had not anticipated.
“Oh, God, Gavriil,” Abigail whispered before leaping off the chair and running back to the wall.
Apparently, Angelo had fooled them all.
****
“Volkov! I have the woman!”
Gavriil froze, his heart stopping within his chest. Had Angelo found a way into the panic room?
This was what he had feared from the moment he met his woman. She was his Achilles heel. He would do anything for her. He would kill for her, he would die for her, and if that bastard had her, he was prepared to do both in order to keep her safe. He turned back to his bedroom to check for himself.
“You think I didn’t know you and this puttana were playing me!”
Gavriil stopped. It spoke to how panicked he was that he didn’t immediately understand what Angelo was saying, or what that meant. When it did he was struck with a wave of relief and rage. It was the latter that had ice settling in his veins. Moving swiftly, needing to put himself in a better position, he ran on silent feet down the hallway, passed Falcone who he’d dispatched with no mercy or remorse and stopped at a wall panel with a hidden release. Pressing his thumb to it to activate it, he stepped inside when it slid open, and then triggered it to close.
Now, Gavriil was in a small nook he’d had built at the top of the stairs specifically for this reason. He was able to get a full view of the foyer from the mirror on the wall above the stairs, but no one would be able to see him. Three more of Angelo’s crew were standing in the foyer, holding a clearly wounded Leona between them.
“You have until I count to five to come out and face me, Volkov, or I will shoot Leona here.” Angelo reached out and pulled Leona’s head up sharply, and even from that distance Gavriil heard her whimper of fear and pain. “She’s already going to be scarred for life from this because of you. Don’t leave her crippled, too.” He dropped her head and stepped away from her with a look of disgust. “If she survives. Pity. The bitch was beautiful. One!”
Gavriil clenched his hands into fists as he stepped out of the shadows. “Don’t fucking hurt yourself, Angelo. You try to go any higher and your crew will know exactly how thick you truly are.”
Angelo glared up at him from the foyer. “I gotta give you credit. I didn’t think you would come out and make this so easy. Especially not for this bitch.” Angelo’s expression turned calculating. “But for the little bakery bitch? She shows fear so sweetly, doesn’t she? I figured any man would walk over hot coals for that one.”
Gavriil had to fight to keep his face neutral. “You called me out, so tell me how this is going to go. You gonna be the bitch the families all think you are and shoot me from there? Or are you gonna take a more honorable approach to this?”
Angelo grinned as he lifted his weapon and fired a shot into Gavriil’s shoulder. He grunted as white-hot pain slammed through him.
Angelo laughed. “I thought I’d do both.” Gavriil breathed through the pain. He felt the hot wet slide of blood down his back so knew it was a through and through. Which meant he was losing blood faster than if it had lodged in his shoulder.
“Gavriil Volkov
, this is the end of your life,” Angelo said gleefully. “Come on down!”
Gritting his teeth, he made his way down the stairwell. He shot a glance up to the corner of the room where he knew the camera that linked to the monitors in the panic room was. He was about to be killed in front of his woman. Because of him she was about to witness another person she cared about slaughtered in front of her. Why the hell hadn’t he disconnected the monitors?
When he reached the foyer he faced Angelo, head high. “You know there’s a camera up in that corner,” he indicated with his head. “My murder will be recorded on that for all to see.”
Angelo frowned, looking up at the corner. He raised his weapon and fired a couple of shots. “Not anymore, dumbass.”
At least he could save her from seeing what was to come.
“So I’m here, how you want this to go,” Gavriil asked, looking around at the four men in the foyer. When he noticed that two of the men, the ones who were sweeping the grounds outside weren’t there he felt a wave of hope. They should have returned long ago. When the perimeter alarms had his watch vibrating, it would have send a simultaneous alert to his crew. If they were here, then the odds in his favor just increased dramatically.
Angelo stepped right into him, putting his face close to Gavriil’s. “I know John’s grooming you to take over. I figure take you out now and save my family stress in the future. So, I’m just gonna put a bullet in your head and watch you die.”
Movement at the side of the room caught his eye. “Then you should have done it already instead of just talk about it.” Gavriil reared back then slammed his forehead into Angelo’s face, breaking his nose right across the bridge. When Angelo went to drop to the floor, Gavriil pulled him around and in front of him, using him as a shield as his crew came in and dispatched the other four men in a calculated and practiced manner. Tony even managed to catch Leona before she made painful contact with the ground.
“We’ve got you, Lee,” Tony murmured as he lowered her to the ground.
Gavriil relieved Angelo of his weapons then pushed him to his knees. “You think to fucking come to my house, you threaten my woman and my family, you beat one of ours and use her against me? You piece of shit with no honor.”
Gavriil reached down with both hands intent on wrapping them around Angelo’s neck and snapping it when he heard Tony say his name. When he looked over he read the look on the younger man’s face, nodded and stepped out of the way.
Tony immediately stepped behind the now begging Angelo, leaning down to place his arms exactly where Gavriil was going to place his. “This is for my father.”
The snap that accompanied the killing move echoed off the walls and Gavriil felt a sense of justice settle within him. You fuck with the Carlisi family, this is how you end up. It was really quite simple.
Chapter Eight
“You forgive me yet, moy angil?” Gavriil murmured against her neck and he felt Abigail shiver against his lips. “Mostly,” she said in a haughty tone. “But I think it will take a long time for me to get all the way there.”
Gavriil laughed softly, pulling her tighter against him where he lay behind her. He felt the pull of the stitches in his shoulder and back at the move, but he wasn’t going to complain.
“As long as that time is spent here with me and the majority of it in my arms and in my bed, then I can live with that.”
Gavriil was tired, and he heard the fatigue in his own voice, but he caught the contentment there as well. When Abigail sighed and snuggled back against him, he caught that same thread of contentment in the sound. She lifted her hand to rub his bicep where he had it wrapped around her waist and he heard her wince at the pain the move caused.
“Blyat! I am so sorry I did that to you,” Gavriil squeezed her against him, kissing her neck and shoulder. “It’s my fault your hands are hurt.”
Abigail nodded. “Damn straight it is! If you hadn’t locked that stupid sliding wall door thingie to the panic room, I wouldn’t have had to try and claw and beat my way through it when I thought you were in danger. And getting Angelo to shoot the camera so I was blind? Did not help with my state of panic at all!”
Gavriil would never forget the moment when he opened the wall and found her curled up in a ball just inside the room. There were bloody smears all around her on the floor, her hands swollen and bleeding, all of her nails ripped back. His heart had dropped for a few seconds when she didn’t move.
“Angil,” his voice was harsh.
He exhaled sharply when she scuttled back as if scared as soon as he said something. He held out his hand to her to try and calm her, the panic on her face almost dropping him to his knees. When she suddenly jumped to her feet, her face now filled with anger, he was a little taken aback. Then when she stepped into him and kneed him hard in the groin, she literally did drop him to his knees.
She swore and cussed at him in three different languages for a few seconds while he knelt there trying desperately not to vomit. Then she collapsed against him, pressing sweet healing kisses all over his face.
“Promise me you won’t lock me away like that again,” Abigail demanded, and Gavriil sighed.
“Baby, I can’t do that. If we are in a situation like that, where you are in danger of getting hurt, I will lock you away. I can’t be who I am when I think you are in danger.”
Abigail was quiet for a moment, then asked in a quiet voice, “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m the devil,” he answered honestly. “I’ve lived a life that has involved breaking numerous laws, fighting, hurting, killing and not all of it can be attributed to honorable reasons. That’s why I need you so very much. You truly are my angel, and you always will be.”
Abigail turned to look him in the eye and he felt more exposed than ever before. “Everything you do, everything you’ve done, it’s because you are the son of John and Sofia Carlisi. You say that your actions are not always honorable, but there is nothing more honorable then protecting your family and their best interest. I saw you step out of the relative safety at the top of the stairs, get shot, and then walk down to protect one of your own. Those are not the actions of a devil, my love. They are the actions of someone much more honorable. I Googled your name. I know that Gavriil translates to strength from God. That is who I believe you are, Gavriil. If I am to be your angel for life, then you will be my strength from God. For me and the rest of the family.”
Gavriil felt the sting of tears and fought to hold them back. He had no idea what he had done in this life to deserve her, but he was going to hold her to him so tight, no one could ever take her from him. She was his angel, and he would love and protect her for as long as he lived.
“Ya tyebya lyublu, moy angil, ya tyebya lyublu.”
Abigail smiled up at him, lifting her bandaged hand to press it against his cheek. “I know you do, baby. I love you, too.”
The End
www.evernightpublishing.com/maia-dylan
KISS OF DEATH
Dark Heart
Sandra Bunino
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Jace Wyler tugged the rim of his Dodgers cap low on his forehead as he snaked through the wall of costumed tourists on Royal Street. His fingers curled around the handle of his case that, at first glance, appeared to hold a musical instrument, but there was nothing melodic about the sniper rifle tucked inside.
He stepped into the shadowy doorway he’d studied over the past few days. He memorized every aspect of the entrance. Missing a detail, whether a loose brick in the step, a hidden camera, or even an extra lock in the door could send the job spiraling into disaster. Slipping a key into the lock, he quickly scanned the area around him before disappearing inside and turning the deadbolt. The loud voices and cheers from the sidewalk were reduced to the background, muffled by thick draperies covering the windows.
Passing the front parlor filled with dusty dropcloths hung over large pieces of furniture, he soundlessly climbed two
flights of stairs to the master bedroom. A cloud of dust floated to his nose when he dropped the case on the bed. He pulled aside the heavy drapes and assessed his vantage point to the restaurant’s balcony across the street. The angle was perfect. He knew it would be. Everyone had a hidden talent, and Jace’s was the uncanny ability to calculate the exact angle and distance needed to place a bullet between a target’s eyes. No matter where they were—a vehicle, sidewalk, apartment window, or, in this case, the second story balcony of an overpriced New Orleans restaurant on Fat Tuesday—once his target was set, they were as good as dead. Jace’s clients depended on it.
Pulling a frilly chair from its spot under the dressing table, Jace straddled the back and tapped a Marlboro from the soft pack he kept in his jacket pocket. The low flame of his lighter briefly illuminated the corner of the bedroom as he lit the cigarette. He took a first drag, inhaling smoke into his lungs and slowly blowing it into the darkness waiting for his target, Max Chantal, to appear. Max was on the fast track to take over the Giovanni crime family and someone wanted to cut him off the rails before it happened.
He snuffed the cigarette on the sole of his shoe and stared through the slit of light between the drapery panels where the long muzzle of his rifle would soon penetrate. He rolled the tension from his shoulders. There was nothing different about this job. A hit was like fucking. Just like one wrong move during foreplay meant a missed opportunity to score, a misstep during a job meant life over death. He was paid to kill people and Jace never missed. The difference between a kill and sex was he always remembered his targets. His fuck partners? Not so much. They’d become faceless outlets to bang away the reality of his life and temporarily blur the intensity of his razor focus.
Jace lit another cigarette and waited. If this was foreplay, he’d be at the part where her panties had just dropped to the floor and she was reaching for his cock. It was the part of the hit that put him on edge because for a short time, others had control of the situation. There were countless ways his carefully executed plan could unravel between now and the moment his target stepped into range of his rifle. He scanned the crowd funneling through the streets below, pulled the photo of Max Chantal from his back pocket, and flicked the corner with his thumbnail. Physical photos were harder to come by, but Jace refused to use digital devices. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how things worked, the problem was he knew too much. Every online search, every saved photo, every keystroke could be copied and traced to the source and user. It was a mistake he’d made once and he’d live with the fallout of his error for the rest of his life. He quickly learned to fly under the radar using old-school techniques that were easily disposed of with a flick of a match. It also helped that he preferred as little human interaction as possible. His rule for dealing with people was unless the result rewarded him with information for a job, or wet his cock, he wasn’t interested. When he was lucky, both happened at the same time.