by LP Lovell
I reach a point where the road ends, and my headlights sweep over the expanse of scrubby, dried-out land ahead of me. I pull over and cut the engine before climbing out of the car. For a moment, there’s nothing to see or hear but endless darkness. Then I spot a tiny flicker, maybe half a mile or so away. Using a small flashlight of my own, I extricate the driver from his undignified position and heave him over my shoulder once more. Luckily he’s not a big man. I pick my way over rough, uneven land until I finally reach the source of the light. I hear the distinct click of a safety being flicked off. Then the blinding illumination hits my face before dropping again. Black spots scatter over my vision for a moment.
“Jesus, don’t creep up on me like that,” Una hisses.
“You’re losing your touch. I was making enough noise to wake the dead, walking across there,” I pant, dropping the body to the ground.
Gio snorts. “Sasha, you’re like a ghost, a creepy ghost.”
Whatever. I ignore them both and stare down into a hole in the ground. A body lays at the bottom with a second half hanging out the back of an SUV.
“Grab that one, will you?” Una says.
I go to the car and grab the large man under his arms. Gio gets the legs, and we lift.
“One,” Gio says, swinging the weight back. “Two, three.” We both let go, and the corpse lands on top of the other. Fianlly we put my guy in there. When he’s at the bottom of the hole, Una hands Gio and me a shovel each. She then takes a seat on the back of the SUV and folds her arms over her chest.
“You could help,” I say.
She wiggles the flashlight around, making the little spot flicker from side to side. “I’m holding the light.”
Gio snorts and drives his shovel into a mound of dirt.
“How did you even dig this up?” I ask. That hole must be five feet deep, and the ground is like concrete.
“Grenade,” Una says casually.
“I think it was actually three grenades,” Gio adds.
Of course they did. “Subtle.”
Una waves a hand in the direction of the grave. “Yes, well, I don’t like manual labor, and I sure as hell wasn’t taking a pickaxe to the ground just to bury them.”
Over an hour later, a patch of fresh earth is all that’s left. Una’s phone rings, and she answers it, speaking only a few terse words before hanging up. “The guns are on their way to Egypt,” she says, and then hangs up.
Nero arranged a deal with his long-time friend and brother-in-law, Rafael D’Cruze. Rafael runs the Juarez cartel. It was a good move. The weapons are off to a holding facility on the border of Egypt. The intention is that Rafael will make contact to sell the same product to the very men who intended to buy them from Bianchi in the first place. Rafael and Nero split the money, and Rafael persuades them to trade with him in the future instead of Bianchi. Rafael gains new business, Bianchi loses, everyone wins. It’s one brick in a giant wall, but it’s the beginning of the end for Bianchi. He just doesn’t know it yet.
The shipment will never touch either Sicily or New York, meaning no one is obviously culpable. And well, even Bianchi won’t want to tangle with the cartel. Gabriella and her men will know nothing of where the weapons go beyond tonight because we don’t know who we can trust. Everyone has a price. Despite appearances, Nero doesn’t actually want a war. Or not yet at least. He wants Bianchi dead and for him to walk away clean. If we pick apart Bianchi’s empire and allow the Ricci’s to go in for the kill, no fingers can point to Nero for getting involved in Sicilian affairs. Nero can be ruthless to the point of cruel; he’s nothing if not intelligent.
Enrique Bianchi will fall, one way or another.
10
Adelina
It’s been two weeks since the engagement party. Fourteen days of staring at the four walls of this room, and every night I’m on edge, waiting for another visit from Enrique. The burn on my neck is now an ugly scab, a horrible reminder of exactly what I let myself in for here.
I no longer drag myself out of bed and get dressed every morning. There’s no point. Days blend into nights and days again. I swear I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away and madness creeping in on the periphery of my being. At eight thirty on the dot, the door opens the same way it does every morning. I wait for the breakfast tray to appear on the side table, but this time, the door is thrown wide. An older man stands there, and I’ve never seen him before. He doesn’t wear a suit, just a T-shirt and jeans that sit below his beer gut. He offers me a cheery smile that creases the corners of his eyes before placing the tray down. Then he wordlessly turns and walks away. The door just remains open. He must have left it open by mistake. He’s new, so maybe no one told him that I’m supposed to be locked in. I push to my feet and tentatively creep forward. I could run. Make it to the fence and try to climb it. That must be how Sasha got in and out before, so it’s not impossible. As I stare through the open gap, I feel like a captive animal, unsure if I want freedom because out there is unknown. I’m torn between my impending madness and the very reason I came here—to get close to him. But I’m not getting close from here. My delusions of his ever treating me like his fiancé are now very clear; I’m nothing but a prisoner.
I decide not to risk it and drag myself out of bed and into the shower. Then, I resume my usual place on the balcony. Lunch comes and goes. One tray disappears, and another appears in its place. Still, the door remains open. Then again in the evening. Enrique may just be taunting me, but these four walls are driving me stir crazy.
I creep toward the door, and with each footstep, I feel like it’ll slam closed in my face any minute. By the time I’m out in the hallway, my heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings. I decide to make a break for it. I hurry along the clinical, white corridor and down the stairs, my bare feet making no sound over the thick carpet. Whenever I hear anyone coming down a hall, I duck and hide. Finally, I spot a door that leads outside, and I stumble into the night air. It’s only then that I realize what I’ve just done. I hid like a scared child. In a few weeks, Enrique has broken me down so that merely leaving my room feels terrifying.
I inhale the humid air, which, even though I’ve spent most of the last weeks on the balcony, feels fresher and cleaner without the confines of my shiny prison. I round the corner of the house and find the pool. The back wall of the house spills light through its glass panes over the turquoise water. It’s so inviting, and I want to jump in. Though part of me wants to retreat away from the light, where I can’t be so easily seen. And that’s the very reason that I approach and drop to the ground, dipping my feet in the cool water. I will not fear Enrique. The second I allow him to dictate my actions, I’ve already lost. This is now a battle of wills. I have no doubt my imprisonment is all part of his twisted manipulation.
My feet swirl back and forth through the cool water, and I slowly relax, listening to the cicadas chirping in the long grass beyond the boundary of the lawns. Fireflies buzz around lazily, and the scent of fresh honeysuckle and cut grass surround me. The moon hangs high in the sky, painting the gardens beyond the pool in tones of silver. I sit there for minutes, hours; I don’t know. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I feel as though someone’s watching me. My gaze darts around, scanning the windows until I finally see him. Enrique leans over one of the balconies above me. My balcony. A feeling of unease twists my stomach, but my eyes lock with his regardless. The last time we saw each other, he showed his true colors. I now know he thrives on fear. He wants me powerless, but power is more than just a visceral thing. It’s a state of mind. And so, I stare at him for long moments before finally diverting my attention to the water. When I next glance up at the balcony, Enrique is gone. I release a tense breath, and my shoulders relax slightly.
On a sigh, I push to my feet. If I don’t go back inside, I have no doubt, someone will come looking for me. As soon as I step back into the house, my heart sinks. The air instantly feels thicker, stifling. My footsteps are silent as I hurry
along the hall and head for the stairs. There’s a sudden outburst from somewhere in the house, and I freeze.
“Fucking fix it!” Enrique. His voice roars through the walls.
I should go back to my room, but curiosity drives me to find out what could possibly make him so mad. I creep along the corridor until I’m only a few feet away from his office. My heart thuds hard in my chest, and my flight instinct takes hold. I’m annoyed by my own fear and irritated that I’ve allowed him to affect me. As I approach the door to his office, I press my back to the wall, my gaze sweeping the hallway up and down in case I’m caught.
Someone else is speaking, their voice a low-pitched murmur that I strain to hear. “The drivers are missing, the trucks abandoned, and the shipment is gone.”
A feral growl not unlike a wild animal reverberates from beyond the walls. “Find who did it, and bring them to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
I back away from the door and jog along the hall. I don’t really know what they’re talking about, but I know Enrique’s mad. And I don’t need to stick around for another one of his psychopathic mood swings.
I’m torn from sleep as I fly down the bed with force. My body collides with something hard and unforgiving. All the air leaves my lungs in a rush, and it takes my mind a second to catch up and realize that I’m on the floor, though I’m not sure how. Pain radiates through my knees and hip from the fall.
“Get up.”
I blink and make out the figure looming over me. A hand fists my hair, and I’m hauled to my feet, a yelp slipping past my lips. “I said get the fuck up,” Enrique growls in my face, so close that spittle hits my cheek.
Confusion blankets my mind as he drags me to the door, making me stumble awkwardly. The second the door opens, light from the hallway cuts through the darkness, temporarily blinding me. He tugs me forward, and I trip over his foot, sending searing pain over my scalp. Something in me rises up like a long-dormant beast, and I snap. I drive my elbow into his side and bring my knee to his balls, but he ducks away. He does, however, release me. We stand a few feet apart, the only sound between us my rapid breaths. His rage and mine meet, colliding like a storm until the tension is thick and electric. There’s something feral about him, where he’s usually so controlled. His normal jacket and tie are missing. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. His hair is messy like he’s been dragging his hands through it. I’ve never seen him look anything other than perfectly put together.
“I am not your doll to be dragged around!” I snap, false confidence driven purely by anger.
“You are whatever I say you are.” Stepping forward, he reaches out and trails his knuckles over my cheek, his eyes dropping to my lips. He leans in so close, I think he’s going to kiss me. “And right now, you are the enemy.” His hand suddenly clasps my throat, and he tugs me close until my lips brush his. “So pretty. So unsuspecting.”
“I’m your fiancé,” I say through gritted teeth.
A small laugh escapes him. “That can be changed,” he breathes over my mouth.
The threat lingers between us, and I know something drastic must have happened. He didn’t chase me halfway around the world to simply discard me now.
His fingers wind around the top of my arm, squeezing tightly before he hauls me forward. “Walk.”
“Why? Where are we going?” I fight his hold, but it never softens.
I’m led through the house and into the kitchen. At the back, there’s a door to the pantry. He takes me inside, and I’m so confused. The lights come on, and he presses his hand against the back wall. It swings open, revealing a hidden panel. Overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating a stairway that descends beneath the storage room. Chilled air greets me, making my skin flush with goose bumps. Nervousness flutters in my stomach, and my legs stiffen. I don’t want to go down there, but he gives me no choice, shoving me forward so hard that I teeter on the top stair, nearly falling. I take the first step, my legs trembling beneath my weight. My pulse rises the farther I descend below the house. The walls are rough, old brick, and I figure the basement must be considerably older than the eyesore of a house above. The stone steps are freezing on my bare feet, and my body temperature drops instantly.
Before I’ve reached the bottom, I can hear voices intermingled with a low whimper. Nothing prepares me for the moment I step into the wine cellar. In the center of the stone floor is a chair, and tied to it, is Gabriella. She’s gagged, and a plethora of bruises cover her face. She looks up at me through swollen eyes. Blood trickles over her chin in a fine line, streaming from a split lip. I rush to her but only make it halfway before I’m snatched backward and pulled clean off my feet.
“Ah, ah, ah. No, principessa.” Enrique breathes over the side of my neck.
I thrash and struggle. “You…asshole,” I spit. I try to jab him with my elbow and stomp on his foot and even throw back my head to smash him in the face. It just makes him angry. He grabs me around the throat and tugs me back against his chest. Firm fingers twitch over my artery, threatening to cut off the blood supply to my brain. I suck in frantic breaths as my vision spots. The sight of my sister like this is terrifying, and fear is driving me toward blind anger. My worst fears are realized all at once. I came here, to him, to save her from something like this.
“Did you know?” he growls against my ear.
“Know what?” I hiss.
He huffs a humorless laugh. “Your dear sister here has taken something of mine.”
My mind stumbles over this newly imparted information, and my eyes meet Gabriella’s. With one look, I know it’s true. She went up against him. How could she be so stupid? I’m handling it.
Enrique’s grip shifts until he grips my jaw, squeezing and twisting my head to the side. “Are you working with her, huh? Are you here as part of a plot, principessa?”
“What? No. I don’t know anything about this.”
He trails his nose up the side of my cheek and inhales a deep breath. “Such pretty lies on your lips.”
I want to scream. Weeks I’ve been here, all in a bid to stop this exact chain of events from happening. Now Gabriella is in his grasp, and whatever sliver of trust I ever hoped to gain from him will be blown to dust.
“I don’t know anything. I’ve been locked in my room until two days ago. I’ve had no contact with anyone.”
“She was at the engagement party. I saw you speak with her…and Matteo Santori, a known ally of your family.” He sounds positively unhinged, and I know I need to tread carefully.
“He was passing on his congratulations, and Gabi is my sister. Of course, I spoke to her.”
Enrique drags in a breath, and his anger and agitation is a palpable thing in the room, but all I see is Gabi, bleeding, beaten.
“Please let her go,” I beg.
“I’m not feeling terribly obliging in that regard. You see, your sister here won’t tell me where my fucking guns are!” He yells the last few words, and his fingers tighten on my neck automatically. “It seems she needs a little incentive.” He presses his cheek to mine, making me want to recoil, and I swallow heavily. “Where are my fucking guns?” He snarls through gritted teeth.
The gag from Gabriella’s mouth is pulled out by one of Enrique’s men. “I told you, I don’t know,” she gasps before sucking in panting breaths. She winces each time, and I’m sure her ribs are in a bad way.
Tears prickle my eyes, and I force them back. They won’t help her here.
Enrique lets out an exasperated sigh, and then I feel something sharp scratch over my cheek, leaving a burning trail. Warm liquid trickles down my skin. It’s not until I flinch that I see the knife. Fear warps all sense of calm, and I panic to get away from him.
“Where are my guns?” he asks again.
“I. Don’t. Know,” Gabriella says through clenched teeth.
“I’m going to marry Adelina,” he says. “But she really doesn’t need ears or eyes. I d
on’t have to look at her face to fuck her.”
My heart beats so fast I start shaking. I meet Gabriella’s eyes, begging her to tell him. Surely, she’ll tell him. She won’t let him mutilate me for business. Her lips remain firmly pressed together, and my heart breaks a little.
“Very well.” He grabs my hair and wrenches my head to the side, and I struggle and thrash. “I wouldn’t move; otherwise, I may accidentally sever an artery,” he says.
I don’t still though. I can’t. Instinct drives me to fight him tooth and nail. Then there are two sets of hands. One of his men grabs my skull in a vise-like hold, angling my head. Enrique brings the blade to the top of my ear, and I can’t breathe. Blind panic consumes me. He presses the tip into my skin and slices over my flesh, tearing a scream from my throat.
“Stop!” Gabriella’s voice is my saving grace. There’s a pause, and warm blood fills my ear. “I don’t have your guns. I can’t tell you where they are.”
Enrique shoves me away, but my freedom is fleeting before the same man cuffs my arms in his thick hands. His man stands behind me, imprisoning me. Enrique walks over to Gabriella, that knife sitting precariously clutched in his hand.
“When your men stole my trucks, they didn’t account for traffic cameras or street CCTV. I know it was you, Gabriella. And now, I have you. There’s only one way you leave here alive.”
“Sir?”
Enrique turns at the presence of a new figure somewhere behind me near the stairs.
“A call for you. I think you need to take it.”
Enrique glances between Gabriella and me. “Fine.” He approaches and grabs my jaw, tilting my head back at an uncomfortable angle. “I’m going to leave for a while. I suggest you talk to your sister and persuade her to be more truthful. Otherwise, I really can’t guarantee either of your safety.” He releases me and walks away, his shoes clicking against the cobbled floor.
One of his men lingers at the back of the room. He’s so still that I almost didn’t notice his presence. The rest of them leave.