Leave Me (Touch of Death Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  I can hear the soft intakes of her breaths as I move closer…and closer. The sweet scent of her skin hits me, and I breathe her in like an addict. She stirs when I’m close enough to touch her, and I know I should move, but I don’t. I can’t.

  Then, she murmurs the one word that could make my resolve waver. My name. What feels like a fist grips my stomach, and I grit my jaw. This was a mistake. Everything in me vacillates violently as emotions battle through walls that crumble in her presence. I have the urge to take Adelina forcibly and leave Gabriella to her fate. I turn away, closing my eyes and driving my mind to a place of indifference—a safe place with rational rules.

  “Sasha,” she breathes again. “Sasha?” More clearly this time.

  I glance over my shoulder and make out her sitting form. “Malyshka.”

  “You’re here,” she whispers, her voice catching in her throat.

  Cold. Rational. I grip the two qualities with everything in me. “I need to know where Gabriella is. Is she alive?”

  “Gabriella?” She says her sisters name as though it confuses her.

  I move closer, keeping my voice low. “Bianchi took her. Do you know if he brought her here?”

  “Um, yeah.” She drags a hand through her hair. “Yes. She’s here.”

  “Focus, Adelina.” I instinctively place my hand to her cheek without ever really giving myself permission to do so.

  She flinches away on a hiss. Before I can think about the stupidity of the action, I switch on the bedside lamp. She winces against the light. An array of bruises, some purple, others turning to shades of yellow and green cover her neck and face. When I sweep her hair away from her cheek, I see her ear, scabbed and crusted with blood.

  She keeps her eyes on the bed linen, refusing to look at me. “He threatened to cut off my ear if Gabi didn’t tell him where his guns are.”

  I push to my feet and turn off the light before I walk away. We stand in the darkness, two entities, separated by what feels like an entire universe. Blind rage threatens to break out of the cage I have it locked in. The bars rattle furiously, vibrating my whole body. But it’s the same story. Round and round we go. Adelina chose this. I tried, many times, and still she chose this. Her fate is not my concern anymore. I throw the cage in another cage and padlock it tight. I then force it down into a deep, dark place where it can’t rise. Inhaling a steadying breath, I turn to face her. I feel my calm, rational self fall into place, and I almost sigh at the sensation. Control. Rational thinking. Strategy.

  “Where is Gabriella?”

  There’s a pause. “In the wine cellar last I saw. There’s a door in the back of the pantry.”

  “Thank you.” I move around the bed and head for the door.

  “Sasha.” I pause. “I’m so sorry.” Meaningless words in the face of her actions.

  “So am I.” For more than she can possibly know.

  I open the door silently and slip through into the dark corridor beyond. When I close that door, it feels like more than a physical action. I close the door on Adelina as well, on the man that she makes me. I can’t lose myself in her plight. I can’t pity someone who won’t help themselves.

  Getting through the house is easy enough, despite the transparent nature of the glass structure. His men move through the property, talking amongst themselves. I duck into doorways and empty rooms, going unnoticed. If one of them were to see me, he’d be dead before he could open his mouth. But then there would be a body, and that always complicates things. It’s much easier if I just get by unseen. Finally, I make it to the kitchen and peer around the doorframe before ducking behind the wall. An older man moves around the large room, stirring a pan that simmers on the stove. He hums to himself. Taking another look, I see a door off to the left, right by the units. There are huge patio doors at the back, and I quickly decide that’s probably my best escape route.

  My senses are stretched to capacity as I watch the man while listening to any possible approach from behind. Finally, he moves over to the fridge and swings the door wide, peering inside. I have maybe three seconds, so I dart across the kitchen on silent steps and open the pantry door. The hinges squeal slightly, and I wince as I slip through and pull it shut behind me. I wait for several moments, holding my breath, listening to the steady thump of my heart. My fingers wrap around the knife hilt sheathed at my thigh, prepared for the door to open at any second. I count to ten. Nothing. Releasing the breath I’d been holding, I relax my hand and take out my torch. The spotlight moves over the shelves of food, looking for the door. There isn’t one. I gently tap on the walls until I find one that sounds different. I search, looking for a mechanism, and as I push on the wall, it gives, swinging inward. Cool air drifts up a dark stairwell to greet me, and silence reigns beyond. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Gabriella may not be alive even if she is down here. I cut off the light in case any of Bianchi’s men are with her.

  The darkness engulfs me on the descent. My feet finally meet level ground, and I pause when I hear something as I listen more intently. Rattling breaths drag in and out of tired lungs. My ears strain further, trying to sense anyone else in proximity. I don’t, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone. I move forward silently, braced, ready for anything. When I sense those rattling breaths only a couple of feet away, I reach for the torch in my pocket. I clasp it in my left hand while the fingers of my right grip my gun. I point it in the direction of whoever lingers in front of me in the darkness. When I click it on, the spot of light hits a sole figure bound to a chair, slumped against restraints. I lift the light to Gabriella’s face. Bruises decorate her skin, and both eyes are swollen shut. Those rattling breaths continue to slip through her lips, and I know she’s likely endured some broken ribs.

  I check the room quickly, looking for anyone else, then any escape routes. There are none, only floor-to-ceiling wine racks, brimming with bottles. Focusing on Gabriella once more, I slide my gun into the holster and remove a knife. The ropes sever easily, exposing her raw and bruised wrists beneath. She starts to tip forward, and I grab her shoulder to keep her in the chair. She doesn’t wake or stir, and that’s more concerning than the visible injuries. Grabbing her arm, I lift and heave her weight over my shoulder. This is where it gets tricky. I can’t get her out of here subtly. Someone will see. The door at the back of the kitchen would be the fastest and most direct exit; however, it’s not a blind spot for the security lights. As soon as I get out there, I’m going to have to shoot my way the safety. Shrugging Gabriella’s weight higher, I climb the steps and push open the door into the pantry. From here, I can hear the old man humming away on the other side of the door.

  There was a time when I would have walked out there, shot him, and thought nothing of it. In recent months though, a strange morality seems to have come over me. For the first time in my life, I find myself considering whether he deserves to die or whether it could be avoided. I grit my teeth, palm my gun, and step out of the pantry. When the old man turns around, I shoot him on pure principle because weakness is destruction, and I will not bow to it. He hits the ground, and I keep moving. The small pop of the silencer won’t draw any attention.

  I slide open the patio door and step outside, whirling around just as the security light blinks on, like a small sun, nearly blinding me. Lifting the gun, I pull the trigger, eliciting a muted pop through the silencer. Glass showers both Gabriella and myself before darkness engulfs us. I wait, listening intently. I hear nothing and no one. With a shift in position, I start moving again, hurrying past the pool and across dark gardens until I meet the fence line. I’m out of sync. I don’t know when the next patrol is. Glancing up, I see the thick wooden spikes at the top of the fence silhouetted in the moonlight. I can’t get over it with Gabriella’s dead weight. Turning, I assess my surroundings, looking for an attack.

  When I glance back at the house, my eyes instantly seek out that one balcony. A lamp is on inside the room, casting a soft glow that frames the sole figure
leaning against the balcony railing. I can feel Adelina’s eyes on me, and guilt niggles from somewhere deep within me. I clamp it down and close my eyes. Think. Think. There’s no quiet way to get out of here. I drop Gabriella on the ground, cupping her head, so she doesn’t hit the dirt. She’s still breathing, though her prolonged lack of consciousness is growing more concerning. About twenty meters down the fence line, I pause and remove my backpack. The two grenades I packed clink together in my hand. This is the backup plan, and one I hoped not to have to use.

  Pulling the pins, I toss the grenades at the base of the fence, hearing the metal meet the wood with a small thunk. I jog the distance back to Gabriella and drop to my knees. I only just cover her body in time for the explosive bang followed by a wall of heat that hits my back. A huge section of the fence is on fire, but more importantly, a good couple of meters are missing. Once I’ve resituated Gabriella on my shoulder, I’m moving, slipping through the destroyed wire and into the scrubby land beyond. My legs pump, trying to put as much space between us and that property as possible. The far off barking of dogs breaks through the night air over the crackling fire. They get louder and louder. Closer. I can see the road when I hear the quick footsteps behind me, too light to be human. I don’t even look, just pull a gun, point, and shoot. I finally make it to the road and find the waiting vehicle, sitting in the darkness. As soon as I near it, the driver’s door swings open, and Una gets out to open the back door for me.

  “Is she dead?” she asks.

  “No.” I dump Gabriella in the back seat, and her body slumps over. “They’re right behind me.”

  She gets in, and I take a seat up front. “No shit. Not like they could have missed your presence.” She slams her foot on the gas pedal, and the car lurches forward, the entire frame trembling violently as she speeds down the rough track.

  I release a long breath. “Really? I couldn’t exactly scale the fence with her.”

  She glances over her shoulder at the unconscious mafia queen, and I really wish she’d focus on the road. “Bianchi evidently doesn’t like her as much as the sister.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I mumble. “Adelina doesn’t look much better.” There’s a long beat of silence, and I kick myself for saying it.

  “You saw Adelina?” The accusation in her tone is as loud as her words.

  “I didn’t know where Gabriella was being kept. I couldn’t exactly search the whole house. I thought Adelina would know if her sister was there. She did.”

  In my periphery, I see Una turn her head and stare at me. She really should look at the road; nevertheless, my gaze remains fixed forward, refusing to acknowledge her. “And that’s the only reason?”

  “Yes. I assure you. I am indifferent to Adelina Ricci.”

  The car shudders and jolts over the dusty track until we finally hit smooth asphalt. We turn onto the main road, but the pace only picks up. We can’t relax yet. Bianchi’s control will be far-reaching.

  “You know, I never wanted you to be indifferent to her, Sasha,” Una says, seemingly out of the blue.

  “No, you were right. I let her affect me, and I shouldn’t have.”

  She sighs heavily. “We aren’t soldiers anymore. We’re more than just a kill list.”

  Are we? I’m not sure I will ever be more than an Elite, or ex-Elite. Una is a mother, a partner, a soldier, an assassin. She can wear different faces and master each one—that was always her gift. I have never been able to adapt in the same way. Ever since we left the Elite, I often feel like a soldier without a commander, looking to Una to fill that void. But she’s moved on; she’s adapted.

  “I don’t know how not to be a soldier.”

  “You were for her. She was good for you.”

  “You hate her.”

  “No, I hate that she endangered our family. I hate that you chose her over us.” Her head tips back against the headrest, and her arms straighten as she grips the steering wheel. “I hate that you were shown a glimmer of normal, of…emotion, only to have it torn away. And I hate that she made that choice willingly.”

  “So, you hate her,” I say on a smile.

  “No, brother. I just love you.” She clears her throat. “Don’t be indifferent. Love is supposed to hurt. How else do you know it’s real?” Her words come too late.

  I don’t want any part of love or the weakness it brings. I don’t wish to be at the whims of another person’s choices, forced to suffer in the aftermath. Adelina has taught me that you cannot control another’s actions, and so to leave your fate in the hands of someone else is nothing short of stupidity. My mind knows it’s foolish, and yet, as I close my eyes, all I see is the shadowy silhouette of a princess in a tower, wishing she could be saved.

  The sun is high in the sky before Gabriella finally wakes up, and when she does, I struggle to look at her. Gone is the fiery daughter of a mafia lord, and in her place is a broken little girl who has never truly seen violence. And if Enrique did this to her in only forty-eight hours… My mind concocts nightmares about Adelina’s fate. I close the lid on that train of thought, locking it up once more.

  Her eyes are still black with bruises though less swollen now. She sits in the huge chair that adorns her father’s former desk with Lorenzo lingering behind her as though he’s ready to jump to her every need.

  Una glances at me, then back to Gabriella. The girl’s distant gaze remains fixed on the scarred wooden surface of the desk, and a single tear breaks free, tracking down her cheeks.

  “Gabriella?” I ask, and she blinks, her dazed eyes drifting to me. “You need to tell us anything you know. Anything that could help us…”

  “I…” She blinks several times. “I walked right into it. He set a trap, and I…I’m so stupid,” she chokes.

  “What trap?” Una asks cautiously.

  “I was fed information. He wanted me to take his shipment, so he had cause to kill me.” Her horrified gaze meets mine, and she shakes her head. “Without me, the mantle will fall to Adelina. He’ll marry her and control everything.”

  “Adelina wouldn’t marry him if he killed you,” I say.

  “I wish I believed that.” Her eyes meet mine, brimming with pain and sadness. “Adelina has changed. He’s…tamed her.”

  “No,” I grate.

  “She’s his now.” And that’s when I see it. Gabriella has lost her reason. She no longer has something to fight for without Adelina.

  “No,” I argue. “Until that ring is on her finger, she is not his.”

  “Not even then,” Una interjects, her eyes meeting mine. For the first time, I feel as though she may actually fight for Adelina.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  “We can’t beat him. He’s won,” Gabriella says. “He won the moment he killed my father.” That little lancing stab of guilt surfaces. “Enrique knew I couldn’t do this alone.”

  On a sigh, Una rolls her eyes and takes an ominous step toward Gabriella. Lorenzo moves too but quickly stills as Una aims what I have no doubt is a withering look at him. She slams her hand on the desk, and Gabriella jumps in her seat.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

  Gabriella lifts her gaze and glares at Una.

  “You aren’t alone.”

  “It seems I am. I know you deliberately moved those guns without my knowledge. Who is Rafael D’Cruze?”

  “A contact.”

  Gabriella snorts before a high-pitched laugh breaks past her lips. “Great. So, you all manage to get out of this squeaky clean while I get a death sentence.” She laughs again, the edge of hysteria creeping in.

  I barely register Una’s movement just the sharp clap of her palm meeting Gabriella’s face. Lorenzo storms the short distance, grabbing Una’s arm. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. In less than a second, he’s on his knees in front of her, clutching his throat and balls.

  “You…” She points at Gabriella. “Need to pull it together. Nero tells me your father was a great man. Don’t dish
onor him with this…weakness.” She sneers. “And you…” She looks at Lorenzo still sucking in choked gulps of air. “Stop treating her like a little girl. She’s the head of the Ricci family. You are her right hand, not her babysitter.”

  Lorenzo grits his jaw and pushes to his feet. I half expect him to square up to Una, though she’s half his size. Evidently, he thinks better of it. Wise. Neither Lorenzo or Gabriella say anything more.

  “We can’t possibly know how this will play out now. You go back to New York,” I tell Una. “I’ll stay.”

  “I can stay with you.”

  “No, it could be weeks of waiting. Go back to Dante. I’ll call when I need you.” I have nothing to keep me in New York, whereas she does.

  This way, I can keep an eye on Gabriella and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. I’ve seen that look before—grief and desperation. It was the look Adelina wore in the weeks before she went off on a revenge mission. But that hasn’t got her anywhere, and it won’t get her sister anywhere, either. If keeping Gabriella safe is the only thing I can offer Adelina now, then I owe both sisters that much.

  12

  Adelina

  I watch as the fence surrounding Enrique’s home burns, the only remaining evidence that Sasha was ever here. My heart sank as I watched him disappear through that fence line, my sister’s white knight. But not mine. I’ve never wanted anything more than I wanted to take his hand in that moment and let him save me from this place. But that isn’t my path.

  My chest feels less tight, the air a little easier to breathe because Gabriella is safe. Sasha came to her rescue just as he’s come to mine so many times before. Enrique has lost his leverage. I have no doubt, I’ll pay for that in some way, but there’s nothing he can do to me that would be worse than killing my sister.

  My bedroom door crashes open, and I close my eyes without turning around. He grabs me from behind by my hair and wrenches me clean off my feet. My spine collides with the granite floor of the balcony before Enrique’s hand slams around my throat. His knees land on either side of my hips as he looms over me.