Leave Me (Touch of Death Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  I turn and head for the door. “I’m leaving.”

  “There’s nowhere to go, Sasha,” Gio says. “Just sit down and have a drink.” I would rather take on the entire Elite on my own than remain in this club right now.

  “I did not agree to this.”

  Gio rolls his eyes. “You’re a professional, Sasha. I’m sure you can sit here for half an hour and make sure no one dies.”

  “Give me the keys. I will wait in the car.”

  “What if something happens? We’re too drunk to defend ourselves,” Tommy says with a stupid smile on his face.

  “Then, you die.” I hold out my hand to Gio, waiting for the keys.

  On a hard sigh, he finally plucks the keys from his pocket and drops them in my hand. “Don’t leave us here.”

  “I will remain on the street.”

  I leave the room, and with each step, my chest eases a little. The main club has descended into chaos. Drunk men shove money in the underwear of smiling girls, too inebriated to realize that they’re wasting their hard-earned cash on a woman who won’t even tell them her real name. There’s something sad and tragic about it with all parties involved.

  When I get outside, I inhale the crisp city air. The sidewalk is wet, and I always like that distinctive scent of rain in the city. There’s something liberating about it, as though the filth of the everyday is washed clean.

  There’s a side door off to the left, and a few girls huddle around, smoking cigarettes, their bare legs on display beneath their coats. I understand that for some women stripping may just be an easy way to make money, but it troubles me, and I’m not sure why. I’ve been to business dealings in such places before, and it’s never bothered me. I’ve always been unaware of anything beyond my weapon and the person I’m being paid to kill.

  I was raised to rise above such base instincts as sexual urges. Such mundane desires are a weakness, allowing the wants of the body to overtake the mind. The only person who has ever changed that is Adelina. And therein lies the source of all my problems. She makes me want things that have never registered in my mind, and in doing so, she’s opened a floodgate that I’m still battling to close. I’ve accepted her choice in as much capacity as I have. I’ve let her go, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be “over her,” as Gio said. Maybe that, in there, is the normal thing to do for someone in my situation, but I’m not normal, and nothing about the bond Adelina and I shared was normal. She’s the exception to everything that I am, there in each thought and every moment like a wound that won’t heal.

  I’m forever scarred by Adelina Ricci, and she doesn’t even know it.

  Days blend into weeks, and my injuries heal, but my mind is more complicated. I long for the crystal-clear clarity that has accompanied me my entire life. I miss having a purpose. Una and Nero both watch me like hawks, though they pretend not to. Una took Gio on her last mission, and I can’t pretend I don’t resent her for benching me. Even after Nero’s little errand to “ease me back in,” apparently I’m still not ready. I don’t know what they expected of me, but clearly, I failed. She thinks she’s helping me, but without my job, I have no purpose.

  I’m more determined than ever to return to my former self. I just need to train.

  The training room is silent, and as I tug my shirt over my head, the chilled air has goose bumps rising over my skin. With the press of a button, music blares through the speaker system. I turn it up loud enough to drown out my thoughts until there’s just me, my fists, and the punching bag in front of me. The first blow sends a shock wave up my arm that fills my entire body. On a deep breath, I land another punch and another. The steady thump, thump, thump, settles over me until my mind is blissfully numb. My knuckles split, old scars opening under the familiar force of violence. Blood coats my skin, but I don’t care.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  I keep going until my entire body aches with fatigue. I’m still not at full strength, and I tire more quickly than I would like, but it isn’t the first time I’ve rehabilitated from a severe injury. I can be patient. When I glance at the clock, I see that I’ve been at it for over an hour. I tug my shirt back in place and grit my teeth at the low-level ache that still lingers whenever I exert myself.

  As soon as I step into the kitchen and see Nero and Gio, I feel the tension. Nero’s lips are pressed together in a flat line—something he only does when someone’s annoyed him. Gio is looking at him like he’s about to explode. I don’t even ask what’s wrong. I’m increasingly becoming irrelevant in this house, nothing more than an extra mouth to feed. Information is need-to-know, and being that I’m off missions, I don’t need to know anything.

  “Sasha,” Nero says, and I nod at him and go to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “There’s something you should know.”

  I unscrew the lid and tip back the bottle, gulping down the cool liquid. “What?”

  “Gabriella Ricci is on her way here.”

  I place the bottle down. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His eyes meet mine, and I know it must have to do with Adelina.

  “When does she arrive?”

  “This afternoon.” He drags a hand through his hair in agitation. “She blames us for letting Adelina go.”

  I grit my teeth. “I didn’t let her go.”

  Gio interrupts this time. “We know that, but she’s upset. Just…perhaps make yourself scarce.”

  Us? No. Adelina was mine to protect, and I failed. The reminder is like a knife in the gut being twisted and turned. I swipe my bottle off the counter and walk out of the kitchen without a word. I think that perhaps it isn’t just Gabriella that believes I failed.

  I hear the car pull up outside the house a few hours later. Through my open bedroom window, I hear several sets of footsteps and one pair of heels—Gabriella’s.

  I know I should probably heed Gio’s advice and stay away, but I can’t. I need to know why she’s here, now. It’s been weeks since Adelina went to Bianchi, and Gabriella’s made no move to contact us as far as I know. There has to be a reason, a change that’s brought her here. Pushing to my feet, I leave my room and descend the stairs silently, listening intently as I go.

  The low murmur of voices comes from the living room, and I creep closer on muted steps before I pause outside the door.

  “Gabriella. It’s good to see you. What can we do for you?” Nero says.

  “My sister is marrying Enrique Bianchi.” Gabriella’s voice is like the crack of a whip.

  “I’m aware.”

  “You were supposed to stop her,” she hisses, the accusation clear in her voice.

  “Protecting your sister cost us greatly. Enrique has brought the wrath of the Elite down on us, a war we thought long forgotten.”

  “You promised me—”

  “I offered her protection, and it came at the cost of my family! If it weren’t for Sasha—”

  “You told me he was the best.”

  I inhale a deep breath and steel myself before stepping around the corner. For a moment, I go unnoticed before I rap my knuckles on the open door. Gabriella and Nero both still and turn to face me. Nero’s chest rises and falls on an agitated breath. Gabriella glares at me, but it’s more than that. She looks heartbroken, defeated, and angry.

  “I was supposed to keep Adelina safe, and I failed,” I admit. “I’m sorry.”

  “I trusted you.” Her gaze shifts from me to Nero. “Both of you.”

  I see the exact moment that Nero’s patience fails him. He closes the distance between Gabriella and himself, and for a second, I’m sure he’s going to hurt her. Instead, he presses his body to hers, towering over her small frame. To her credit, she doesn’t back up, meeting his eyes with her own defiance. Her shoulders square, her chin lifts, and I see why Adelina respects her so much. The two sisters are so alike in many ways, but Gabriella wears the confidence of someone who was raised to run a family.

  “Your precious fucking sister knocked out one of m
y guys and shot Sasha while the rest of us fought the small army of Elite that Bianchi brought to my damn gates.” His eyes narrow. “I more than upheld my end of our agreement out of loyalty to your family.”

  Her brows pinch. “Why would she do that?” Her gaze darts frantically between us.

  “Bianchi attacked us…for her, so she went to him. I would have stopped her, so she shot me.”

  “She wanted to go to him. You need to accept that,” Nero cuts in.

  Gabriella squares her shoulders to prepare for an argument. “You don’t truly believe that?”

  Nero cocks a brow, saying nothing.

  She whirls to face me as though seeking an ally, and Nero retreats once more, leaning against the back of the leather couch. “It’s Adelina! She thinks she’s doing the right thing,” Gabriella almost pleads.

  “I know,” I say.

  “She’s just young and naïve.”

  “I know.” My voice is robotic even to my own ears. “But it’s out of our hands.”

  “You mean you have your own issues, and she’s a low priority.”

  “It would start a war,” Nero interjects, though Gabriella never tears her attention from me.

  I stare into the deep brown of her eyes, playing witness to her pain, and I understand it because I feel it keenly. “No, I mean, she’s made her choice, and we can only respect it.” And then I watch as her brow crumples. “She wants to kill him. It’s out. Of our. Hands.”

  “I know what she wants,” she whispers. “But you have to know she won’t be able to just walk away from that.” Her dark eyes lock with mine, and it’s like she can see my emotions clear as day. She’s grabbing threads and pulling, tugging at bits of me I’m trying very hard to bury and dragging them to the surface. “Even if she succeeds, they’ll kill her.”

  The thought of Adelina dying shouldn’t be so debilitating, but it leaves me breathless. “I know.” For weeks, I’ve tortured myself with the thoughts Gabriella now reiterates.

  “We at least have to try to get her out.” Gabriella’s voice rises, and I know the hint of desperation well. “You owe her that much.”

  Any and all patience I have snaps like a cut thread. “Don’t you think I tried!” My voice is loud, too loud, my anger shamefully on display, but I can’t stop it. “I went to his villa, tried to get her to come with me. She wouldn’t.” I release you from your duties.

  Gabriella frowns. “Why—”

  Like a snowball, it just keeps building. “I ran with her for weeks. Kept her safe. I was willing to die for her. She shot me and went to him, so don’t tell me what I owe her. I don’t owe Adelina Ricci a single thing. Let her marry him.” I spit the words through gritted teeth before I finally release a shaky breath, forcing myself to calm down. “I’m done with her.”

  I take one step back, then another, finding a certain relief in the declaration. I need to put it behind me. I can’t dwell on her betrayal and my failures. It’s not productive. Mistakes are to be learned from. That’s all.

  “I can’t imagine you came all the way to New York just to tell us how bad of a job you think we did,” Nero says, and I’m grateful to him for the diversion.

  Gabriella’s eyes linger on me a beat longer, probing, digging beneath my words, before she finally tears them away and looks at Nero. “No, I came to propose an alliance.”

  Nero’s eyes narrow, and he taps his index finger over his bottom lip, a habit of his when he’s deliberating something. “And how would an alliance with you benefit me?”

  “Enrique killed my father and hunted my sister down like a stray dog. He’s hired the Elite to come after Adelina and now your family.” Her shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath. “I know you want him dead, Nero. You aren’t built to let that kind of offense go.” She isn’t wrong.

  I know Nero wants to string Enrique Bianchi up by his ankles, but he hasn’t. Yet. Truthfully, I’m almost proud of his maturity in the matter. He’s placing business and the wellbeing of the mafia over his own personal vendetta. The rational soldier that I am approves of his behavior, though I admit, certain weakened bits of me wish he would return to his former rash self.

  Nero casually crosses his ankles and flicks a piece of lint off his sleeve. “I can’t be seen involved in Sicilian affairs.”

  “He brought an army to your door. He practically declared war,” she snarls. “You’re Nero Verdi.”

  His jaw tics, and his eyes harden to a glacial stare. “That still doesn’t answer my question. How would an alliance with you benefit me?”

  A small smile touches her lips, as though she knows something he doesn’t. “You may think me weak, Nero, but I’m still Gabriella Ricci. That name holds weight.”

  “Does it? Or was it only Eduardo Ricci’s name that had any real meaning?”

  She visibly bristles before taking a slow, measured step toward Nero. “I still have my alliances, Nero. I will destroy Enrique Bianchi with or without you.”

  For a moment, Nero says nothing, and then a slow smile creeps over his lips. “Spoken like a true Ricci.” He pushes to his feet and starts to move past her, pausing when they’re shoulder to shoulder. “Those manicured hands of yours won’t stay clean for long, Gabi. You’re right; you do appear weak. Show them all otherwise.”

  Gabriella’s jaw tenses, and she lifts her chin before giving the smallest of nods.

  He strides past me toward the door. “I will discuss your proposition. Stay tonight, and we’ll speak tomorrow.”

  He leaves the room, and Gabriella releases a long breath. Those dark eyes seek me out, hard, and yet there’s a softness to her that’s reminiscent of her sister.

  “You think I’m weak,” she says quietly.

  I frown, confused as to why she would voice this, as though my opinion would mean anything. “I think that we do what we have to.”

  “Adelina is all I have left.”

  “You’re willing to risk everything for her?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s willing to marry Bianchi to keep you from war; yet, here you are, starting one anyway.”

  He jaw tenses. “She thinks she’s saving the family, but tell me, what is any of that worth when there’s no family left? She and I, we are the Ricci legacy.”

  “And is that why you want a war? For the sake of a legacy?”

  “Power is everything in our world. If Enrique marries her, he’ll take over what’s left of my father’s empire. And that may be worse than killing him. Daddy would be rolling in his grave, but mostly because his daughter is married to that monster.”

  I think of the jagged cuts carved into Adelina’s skin with Bianchi’s initials, and my fists clench instinctively.

  “He died trying to stop this.”

  I know, all too well, what Eduardo Ricci suffered for his mistake; however, I can’t feel sympathy for a man who would barter his child to begin with. Gabriella is just a grieving daughter and a desperate sister trying to pick up the pieces of something he put into motion before either of them were old enough to comprehend any of this.

  “I just want my little sister back. It’s my job to protect her, not the other way around.”

  I pity her, and that doesn’t happen often. “She’s determined to kill him. She won’t be swayed.” Not by me at least.

  “I’m willing to fight for her, but I need Nero. I need you.” She looks at me without a trace of pride, simply need. “Are you really done trying to help Adelina?” she whispers.

  I duck my chin, forcing myself to step back from the situation. “Yes.” I force the word past my lips, almost choking on it.

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  Closing my eyes, I tilt back my head, trying to calm the storm churning around my mind. The clarity I crave so desperately evades me, and I find myself fighting through the chaos in search of it. As always, Adelina is the storm, beating away at me, battering my foundations until I’m shaky.

  “You love her,” Gabriella
whispers, and my eyes flash open, bringing a scowl to my lips. “And she betrayed you.”

  That word—it makes my skin crawl as though it can sense the weakness attached to a single syllable. I say nothing, and a small, irritating smile touches Gabriella’s lips.

  “Your family was under attack. She had the means to stop it. Was it betrayal or loyalty?”

  She takes a slow step forward, tilting her head to the side in a way that reminds me of Una. Calculating, assessing. “I ask you again; are you done trying to help her?”

  I can’t answer that.

  The next morning, I find Una and Margot in the kitchen. The back patio doors are thrown open, and Gabriella sits at the table outside, eating breakfast with the two men she brought with her. Una eyes me as I approach the fridge and pull out a jug of orange juice. When I close the door, she’s right there, waiting. I didn’t even hear her move. Her blond hair lays in a tight braid over her shoulder, and she’s dressed in the fitted black shirt and pants she usually reserves for work. It deprives her of any and all softness.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, stepping around her and taking a glass from the cupboard.

  “She wants an alliance.”

  “I’m aware.”

  I take a seat at the breakfast bar, and almost immediately, Margot slides a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me.

  Una takes the seat next to me. “I don’t think it’s wise.”

  I spear a piece of bacon and put it in my mouth. “Bianchi is a mutual enemy,” I say between chews.

  “We’ll handle Bianchi soon enough, but we don’t need Gabriella Ricci to do it.”

  “What does Nero think?”

  She rolls her eyes. “That the look on Enrique Bianchi’s face will be priceless when Nero destroys him.”

  A smile quirks my lips because I couldn’t agree more. “Bianchi thinks he’s safe behind his politics.”