by Anna Lowe
Thanks to the message he’d sent earlier, Marco knew where to find them, but his news chilled Sergio to the bone. Vicente and his men were on the move, which meant the safe house might not be safe any more.
“Just wake her up already,” Marco barked.
Strange, that — the Marco he knew from the Foreign Legion never let anything annoy him, not even mortal danger. But now, he was cranky as hell.
“Lena. They’re coming.” Sergio gently shook her shoulder.
Those words must have cut into her groggy mind, because she raised her head. “Vicente?”
He nodded grimly. “And his men. We have to go.”
Lena rolled to a seated position, then gasped and clutched the sheet.
“That’s just Marco.” Sergio stepped between them to give Lena some privacy.
“What do you mean, just?” Marco muttered.
Lena leaned out for a peek, then looked away, turning pink. Sergio winced. Marco was naked, but no — Sergio hadn’t invited him over for some kind of kinky threesome.
“Marco has been keeping an eye on Vicente since we left the yacht,” Sergio explained. “He came to warn us.”
Lena wrapped the sheet around her body like a toga and grabbed for her clothes.
Sergio, meanwhile, hustled his friend toward the door, explaining as he went. “There’s been a new development.”
Marco glanced at Lena in disapproval. “No kidding.”
Lena blushed harder, and Sergio shoved Marco toward the door. “I mean the diamond. Lena is the one setting it off, not Amber.”
“It looks like Vicente figured that out too,” Marco warned.
Sergio cursed. “Where is he?”
“Closing in quickly. I flew as fast as I could.”
“Flew?” Lena blurted.
Sergio and Marco whipped around. They’d been speaking in their usual pidgin French — a holdover from their Legion days — with a little English and Italian mixed in. Enough for Lena to follow along, obviously.
“Dragon shifter,” Marco called, thumping his chest.
Lena’s eyes went wide.
Sergio shuffled Marco through the door while Lena shook out her pants and pulled them on. Then she looked down, uncertainly patting the gem in her pocket.
“Listen.” Marco jabbed a finger against Sergio’s chest. “You need to keep your head on. She’s not worth it.”
“Hey!” Lena shouted from inside.
“Nothing personal,” Marco called, then turned back to Sergio. “Love is a lie. An illusion.”
“What is your problem?” Lena muttered.
Sergio yanked Marco closer, growling. “Love is hope. Love is light. Love is everything.”
Marco stared, surprised. Sergio was a little caught off guard himself. Since when did he believe those things?
Since Lena, his wolf hummed.
“Spoken like a true wolf.” Marco pursed his lips. “Can’t you see? Love blinds. And when your hopes go up in flames, all you’ll have left are ashes. Ashes, Sergio. That’s all that will remain of your heart.”
Sergio stared. The first rule of the Foreign Legion was not to pry into anyone’s past, but wow. What was up with that?
“For goodness’ sake.” Lena appeared in the doorway, half dressed. “One woman burns you, and that makes love a disaster for everyone?”
Marco glowered until Sergio gripped his shoulder in warning. No one gave his mate the evil eye.
“Watch your heart. I warn you,” Marco grunted, turning away.
“Too late,” Sergio whispered.
He didn’t mean to spend the next ten seconds admiring his mate, but when Lena’s eyes locked on his, anger and urgency faded, and light filled his soul. Outside, the sun had yet to rise, but it felt like dawn was breaking over his world.
Marco made an exasperated sound. “Let’s go already. Andiamo.”
Lena darted inside for her sandals. For a moment, she contemplated her camera bag, but Sergio shook his head.
“It will be safe here. Andiamo.”
When she stepped outside, he took her hand and rushed down the stairs after Marco. Within three steps of reaching the ground, Marco shifted into dragon form and — whoosh! — took to the air.
“Oh my God,” Lena whispered, screeching to a stop. “He really is a dragon.”
Like you, Sergio nearly said. Though he supposed her shock was understandable. Other than her own half shift and his wolf, Lena had never seen a shifter in action.
“Come on.” He jogged over to the motorcycle and leaped on, kicking the engine to life. The moment Lena slid on the back, he shot down the dirt path in the field between the two aqueducts.
“What do you see?” he yelled, motioning over his shoulder.
The motorcycle lurched slightly as Lena twisted to look. “Marco is flying back toward the coast. There are lights too, but I can’t tell if those are cars on the road or something else.”
Something else, instinct told him as he kicked the bike into a higher gear.
“He really is a dragon,” Lena muttered. “Amazing.”
You’ll be as amazing when you shift, Sergio wanted to say. You just have to believe.
As they raced along, his mind spun. Where could he go? How to keep Lena safe?
“Watch out!” Lena pointed left.
A Land Rover roared out from under one of the archways of the westernmost aqueduct, coming right for them. At the same time, a huge shadow swooped in from the east — a dragon aiming its claws for the motorcycle. But a second shadow appeared in the still-dark sky. That was Marco, just in time to force the enemy dragon aside.
Sergio glanced into the side mirror, where three separate points of light wobbled and jerked. More motorcycles?
“Shit,” Lena muttered.
Shit was right. Sergio looked around for some way out, his hopes for outrunning Vicente fading. Now what?
We make our stand, his wolf growled. The way we did with Salvatore ten years ago.
It was eerily similar, in a way. His uncle had been a ruthless mob boss, and now, Vicente was aspiring for the same kind of power. But Sergio had only risked his own hide in challenging Salvatore. Now, Lena’s life was on the line too.
I hate calling for backup as much as you, but it’s time to notify the Guardians, Marco grunted into his mind.
Sergio had to agree. He had no choice with Vicente closing in with so many men — enough to show he was intent on grabbing a Fire Maiden at all costs.
Lena, Sergio’s wolf mourned.
He might revere her as a fascinating, intelligent woman. But all Vicente saw was a route to power he could exploit.
Sergio clenched his jaw and put all his effort into alerting Ariana through his mind. Words wouldn’t come through at this distance, but he could still raise the alarm. He stared at the aqueducts and the sky, hoping those images would be clear enough to guide the Guardians to his location. Marco did the same, and before long, Sergio could sense the Guardians waking in alarm.
Hurry, dammit, he wanted to yell.
“What are you doing?” Lena yelped as he made a sharp turn to the right.
“Plan B.”
He pointed to the aqueduct a few hundred meters away to the east. The structure rose to a height of four stories, but one section had collapsed, leaving a pile of rubble.
“Over there. When I stop, scramble up and hide.”
“Hide?”
“There’s no other way.”
“What about you?”
He swung his jaw from side to side. That was the iffy part. “I’ll delay Vicente. Hopefully the Guardians will be here soon.”
There was so much more he wanted to say, but an enemy dragon swooped in for another attack. Marco drove it away, but everything broke into chaos. Dragon fire blazed through the sky, and Sergio jerked the handlebars to avoid a stray strand of flame. It missed, but the motorcycle spun into a sliding turn that ended with him and Lena tumbling into the bushes.
“Are you all right?” He
hurried to help Lena.
Her legs were shaky, but her voice was firm. “Fine.”
She sounded mad as hell, and he would have loved to see her shift into dragon form and give Vicente the surprise of his life. Alas, Lena didn’t have enough experience to shift fully, let alone take to the air and fight.
“That way. Go. Go!” He pushed her toward the rubble.
Her eyes flashed as the Land Rover screeched to a stop before them, and for one terrifying minute, Sergio was sure she would stay.
“Please. I can fight better with more space,” he insisted.
Lena hesitated, then ran for the ruins. The rubble created a ramp that led to the intact, top level of the aqueduct, where she could find a place to hide.
Sergio rose to his full height and glared as the Land Rover and several motorcycles formed a semicircle, their headlights blinding him from every side. He threw up a hand as doors creaked open and thumped closed. Footsteps crunched over dry brush, and Vicente stepped into the cone of light cast by the vehicles.
“You have my property,” Vicente growled. “I want it back.”
Sergio huffed. “You can find your jet ski on the beach.”
Vicente’s eyes shot daggers. “I mean her, you fool.” He pointed toward the rubble, where Lena’s hurried footsteps scraped over rock.
Sergio crossed his arms. “She’s no more your property than mine.”
“And yet you’ve left your mark all over her.” Vicente snorted. “Never mind. Soon, she will be mine to play with.”
Sergio’s blood boiled. He and Lena hadn’t been playing. Did Vicente even know the difference?
Sergio’s stomach turned, and his mind filled with horrifying images of Lena struggling…screaming…
“She will never be yours,” he roared.
Tolino and the other bodyguards spread out, ready to shift at a word from their boss.
Vicente tsked. “My, my. Didn’t anyone teach you to separate emotion from business?”
Sergio’s arm hair thickened as his wolf struggled to break free. “This isn’t business.”
“Ah, but it is. My business.” Vicente looked him over from head to toe in a creepily fascinated way, then muttered to himself. “Hard to believe.”
Sergio frowned. What did that mean?
Still, any delay was good, now that the Guardians had been roused. The question was, how soon would they arrive? Old Dante took ages to creak from one chair to another, and Ernesto, the bear shifter, was probably still half asleep. Gaius was no longer the spry chicken — er, eagle — he used to be, and Remo… Sergio frowned. Of all the Guardians, Remo was the one he least wanted to see. The grizzled old wolf shifter despised him.
Meanwhile, Vicente’s eyes bored into Sergio’s.
What? Sergio wanted to yell. What?
Tolino watched too, with those dark, impossible-to-read eyes of his.
A desperate roar broke out, and everyone whipped around to look south. Marco was just finishing off Vicente’s mercenary. With a yelp, the enemy dragon spun out of control and crashed to the ground with a bone-jarring thump.
“Useless,” Vicente muttered.
Marco hovered over the body, then roared in triumph and glided back to support Sergio. Sergio’s hopes rose then fell as five more shadows raced out of the night. More dragons?
Marco spun around, baring his teeth at the new arrivals.
“Ah, my guest has finally arrived,” Vicente announced.
Sergio held his arms away from his sides, ready to shift. Marco roared and circled the newcomers, who landed on the top level of the aqueduct — across the gap from where Lena had hidden, thank goodness, but still too close for comfort.
“Guest?” Sergio wrinkled his nose.
Filho da puta, Marco cursed in his native tongue. Son of a bitch.
Sergio stared into the darkness. Who was it?
Of the five dragons, three were clearly bodyguards, younger and bulkier than the two in the middle. The middle dragon with the piercing red eyes was clearly the oldest and highest ranking. To his right sat a female, daintily folding her wings.
Sergio’s attention bounced back to the ranking male, and once he picked enough details out of the night, he recognized the enemy.
Enzo Lombardi, he hissed into Marco’s mind.
Marco exhaled slowly. Not good.
“This is your VIP guest?” Sergio spat.
Vicente grinned the way only a cold-blooded killer could. “Allow me to introduce my business associate, Signore Enzo Lombardi.”
Sergio could all too easily picture the dirty deals those two might cooperate on. And this was a worst-case scenario, because their business involved a Fire Maiden.
He studied Vicente. What exactly did the wolf shifter have in mind?
The Lombardis had been prowling Europe for months, searching for a place to grab power. Power they intended to extend to other cities — a master plan in which a Fire Maiden would afford a huge advantage.
But Vicente lusted after power too, and Sergio couldn’t picture him cooperating with the Lombardis. If so, then just long enough to set up his own bid for power. Eventually, Vicente was sure to double-cross the Lombardis and crown himself Rome’s top dog.
Sergio grimaced. The Lombardis were just as crooked as Vicente. It would be a case of one murderer stabbing the other, and the only question was, who would triumph in the end?
Enzo, the mastermind of the Lombardi clan, waved a wing casually. He spoke in guttural dragon coughs any shifter could decode.
“Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch. You know — a little sport.”
The female at Enzo’s side chuckled. “Like gladiators. Too bad you couldn’t book the Colosseum, Vicente.”
Vicente forced a smile at her implicit dig at his limited powers. “My dear Jacqueline, when I control the city, I promise you the greatest games Rome has ever witnessed.”
Sergio locked eyes with Marco. Jacqueline — that Jacqueline?
Marco’s glowing eyes flared. Judging by the accent, yes. The two-timing she-dragon Tristan and Liam fought off in Paris. Looks like she’s joined forces with old Enzo. He growled. Tristan should never have let her live.
Sergio let out a slow breath. Regrets wouldn’t help now, only action. But what could he and Marco do against five dragons and as many wolves?
“You mean, when Enzo controls the city,” Jacqueline snipped.
Vicente balled his hands into fists, but he managed to grind out a measured, “Of course. In any case, I promise to entertain you now.” He turned to Sergio and opened the buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, his men shifted into wolf form and trotted a few steps away, squaring off an area around Vicente and Sergio.
“You see? Our own little arena.” Vicente motioned.
Sergio wasn’t impressed. Neither was Jacqueline, who gave a bored wave that said, Go ahead, then. Entertain me.
Vicente started pacing around Sergio. “You and me in a fair wolf fight.”
Sergio snorted. Fair and Vicente went together as well as Amber and chastity.
“My associates will simply watch,” Vicente lied. “Your dragon friend, meanwhile, might want to leave. That is, if he doesn’t want to see you die.”
Marco grumbled under his breath, but Vicente went on.
“You’ve been snooping enough. You and your dear Guardians. Well, that ends tonight.” He stripped off his shirt with a flourish. “It’s time for destiny to run its course.”
“Destiny?” Sergio scoffed. “What might that be?”
Vicente’s lips curled. “To avenge my father. To be the next great leader in an illustrious dynasty.”
“Great dynasty? You?” Sergio couldn’t help cackling.
The Guardians had run extensive background checks. Vicente came from a poor wolf clan that had never risen above petty theft and poverty. He’d been raised by a single mother, the third of five children fathered by as many different men.
Vicente’s smile didn’t waver. “You find that
hard to believe? Ironic, considering our shared blood.”
Marco whispered into Sergio’s mind. He’s just baiting you.
Sergio would have agreed, but the gleam in his foe’s eyes suggested Vicente wasn’t lying, for a change. Meanwhile, that niggling feeling Sergio always got around Vicente had turned into a scream of warning from the back of his mind.
“I come from the scum of the earth,” Sergio shot back. “Which means the only common denominator between my family and yours is the scum part.”
Vicente’s eyes glowed in glee, as if he’d been awaiting this moment for years. “You’ve been so blind, like everyone else.” Then he paused, darkening. “Admit it. You killed my father. Of course, you did me a favor in the end. Who knows if the old goat would have handed over power as promised? Still, it’s time to avenge him. Make me look better in the history books.” Vicente chuckled.
Sergio stared. Had Vicente lost his mind?
Vicente paced closer and waved at himself, then Sergio. “Don’t you recognize it? Not even a glimmer?”
Sergio wanted to shout, All I see is a madman greedy for power. But something about Vicente had always struck him as familiar. Unsettlingly so, though he’d never been able to put a finger on why.
Out of nowhere, Vicente reached out and nicked Sergio’s forearm with his fingernail. Then he nicked his own and held it out, declaring, “The same blood that runs through you runs through me.”
Sergio nearly blew up. “Are you suggesting my father—”
Vicente roared in laughter. “Your father was the weak link, the lesser half. Think again, dear brother.”
Brother? Sergio nearly shoved Vicente back. He was used to despising members of his own family, but being related to Vicente was inconceivable. The man had to be lying.
Then it hit him. Revenge…shared blood…single mothers…missing fathers…
Vicente roared with laughter as he watched realization dawn over Sergio’s face. “Your uncle — Salvatore — was my father. And since your father was his identical twin — that makes us blood brothers, in a way.”
“Cazzate,” Sergio barked. Bullshit.