Eagle elite volume ii, p.65
Eagle Elite Volume II, page 65
Which wasn’t me at all.
Huh, maybe I had some of Dante’s anger after all. Maybe, somehow, I’d inherited that as well from our dead parents.
Strength.
The thought made me smile to myself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
So quick bright things come to confusion —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
He knew.
That was my first thought.
The second?
Holy shit, he was huge for a nineteen-year-old.
And finally, the third?
A horrifying lump in my throat—because he looked exactly like Luca. Hell, the bastard even stood like him. God help me if I had to kill him, because it was like I was staring into the face of one of my mentors.
Even though my emotions were going into overdrive, I kept the smirk in place, and of course didn’t hesitate to make sure Val escaped unscathed, without knowledge of the dark. I at least owed her that after treating her like complete shit. She didn’t deserve my anger.
And the last thing I wanted was for Andi to be upset with me—she did say she’d haunt me if I was an ass, and I wouldn’t put that past her.
Nobody moved as Val left the room and walked down the hall.
It was quiet, but the air was electric, like someone had just released years worth of tension in that tiny space.
I had to give it to them; the uncles had appeared feeble, until they were forced to quit the little act.
Old and senile, my ass.
They looked powerful.
And angry.
So very angry.
Well, good news, folks! I knew anger well, and I wasn’t beyond kicking some old man’s ass just because I saw him using a cane ten minutes ago. I had to be angry, to be indifferent, to get through the next few days, or, God help me, weeks, in a constant state of dark emotions, because the minute I let in the light…
It hurt.
Damn it.
Everything hurt.
Years of training with the FBI and my own crime Family kicked in, I hit Dante’s forearm with my hand, the knife fell to the floor as I shoved him against the wall and pulled both hands behind his back, rendering him incapable of doing anything except giving me a backward head butt.
“Let’s speak plainly, hmm?” I slammed him against the wall harder. “I will not hesitate to end you. Really, you should take it as a compliment. I have over 40 kills to my name. I am a trained assassin. I will not hesitate. I never hesitate. You’re a damn child, a pawn in a man’s war. Pull a knife on me again in front of your sister, and I’ll use that same knife to cut out your tongue. Piece. By. Piece.”
Dante didn’t flinch, but he did smile.
And I, honest to God, wanted to slit his throat for it.
“Don’t test me.” I grunted releasing him from my grip. “I’ve killed people for less.”
His eyes finally averted as he stepped away from me, briefly touching the spot on his throat where I’d placed the blade.
It wasn’t two seconds before I felt the tip of a gun pressed against my back.
“Nobody comes into our home and threatens our blood!” I wasn’t sure which of the old men it was, but I was sure of one thing.
Frank.
He was watching.
And laughing.
What the ever loving hell?
“I really don’t want to send you into a nursing home, old man.” I shook my head. “Put the gun down.”
Frank crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. Should I offer popcorn? The bastard was enjoying every minute of the show!
The gun pressed harder.
“What do you think, Frank?” I nodded toward him. “Six seconds?”
He grunted. “You losing your touch?”
I shrugged. “I was trying to be humble.”
“Hah.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “You don’t wear humility well, son.”
I grinned. “Don’t I know it.”
“One.” I elbowed the man in the ribs and ducked to my right as I pulled the gun over my shoulder and flipped him over my body, he fell against the ceramic tile just as I slid my foot across the floor taking another one of the men down. Dante surged toward me. With another kick and then a punch to his jaw he was down.
“Four!” Frank called out.
“Kinda busy!” I yelled, as the last man charged me. I used his momentum against him; the minute he hit my body with his, I slammed my hands against his chest then lifted him into the air and threw him to his back on the floor.
“Five.” Frank nodded, approaching on my right. “Impressive. But next time, try harder.”
“Maybe next time you can help,” I snapped.
Frank cracked his knuckles in front of him. “Arthritis is acting up.”
“My ass.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes as the groans of the men filled the room; I had to give them credit, they were already starting to get to their feet, ready to die for their own damn pride.
“Stop this.” Frank held up his hands. “We came to discuss Family matters.”
“The hell you did!” Dante yelled. “You don’t come into our home, attack my Family and—”
Frank held up his hand again. “This was merely a… demonstration of what will happen if you refuse to listen. Listen, and we’ll be on our way. It’s as simple as that.”
The old men helped each other to their feet and shared thunderous looks before one limped forward and nodded. “We agree, but first.” He pointed to me. “Who the hell is that? Because we all know he isn’t your grandson.”
Frank smirked and slapped a hand on my back. “Why, I thought after the last few minutes you’d have simply put two and two together, apologies.” His voice lowered. “This is Sergio…” He paused dramatically, the freak. “Abandonato.”
Cursing followed.
And I could have sworn each of them clenched their fists.
Because if there was anything the Alferos of New York hated more than Frank and the rest of the Chicago crew… it was the Abandonatos, the Family that owned Chicago, that forced them away from their homes.
The Family that took over when they had lacked the ability to do so.
I should duck my head.
Offer my sincerest apologies.
Possibly shake one of their hands and say something nice.
Instead, I responded with, “And if things don’t go well… your future boss. I’d show the respect I’m due. Starting now.”
CHAPTER NINE
A sweet face man a proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
It had been an hour since my uncles had disappeared, I was worried. I was trying not to be paranoid, but they loved parties. The last time we had a party—which was last week, mind you—it had raged until two in the morning. There had been several cases of wine, and somehow, during the party, a goat was brought in while someone offered to slaughter it for more food.
More food.
As if they didn’t already have enough.
I later found out it was owned by one of the party goers who lived in Upstate New York, a gift, he said.
My uncles politely asked for the goat to be dead first.
The man begrudgingly agreed—and after a few glasses of wine, added in a chicken for good measure.
To say our parties were legendary… well, that would be an understatement, but this one, it felt… off. Like everyone was sitting on pins and needles just waiting for something horrible to happen.
Even Nico was in the corner whispering with his parents.
They raised their voices above the music. Nico took one look at me, then stomped over to where I was standing. “We cannot marry.”
Hey, wasn’t that supposed to be my line?
“Um, okay.” I tried to look upset, when really I was elated. But why the sudden change of heart? “Can I ask why?” Not that I wanted him to go back on his proclamation, but he seemed angry for some reason.
“You are bad blood.” He sneered. “We cannot have bad blood in our Family.”
“Bad blood,” I repeated. “I’m one hundred percent Italian.”
Again, why was I arguing with him about this? The amount of cologne that man had on was staggering. I took a step back just so I could breathe.
He finally locked eyes with me. “You are bad blood.”
Yeah, you said that freak show.
“Okay then.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Sorry for being… bad?”
“It is all right.” His shoulders sank. “You cannot change the circumstances of your birth.”
For some reason, his insult made me want to pluck out his eyebrows and feed the hair to the chickens.
“Well,” I said in a shaky voice. “I guess that’s that.”
He backed away. “Abandonato Scum,” he muttered under his breath, and then he joined his parents on the other side of the room. I saw Dante speaking to them. He looked—afraid.
Dante never looked afraid.
I motioned him over.
He looked directly at me. Recognition flared in his eyes. Then he turned to the crowd. Mouth open, I stared. He’d just ignored me.
Another thing he’d never done.
He turned down the music and whistled. “Party’s over, we have…” His eyes locked on mine. “Business.”
The surrounding people nodded their heads and started cursing in Italian as if they knew exactly what type of business he was talking about.
Still confused, I watched as every last person left our house.
“Dante…” I swallowed back the fear in my throat. “What’s going on?”
“War,” he whispered.
“America’s at war!” I screamed. “Oh my gosh, do we even have a bomb shelter?” I started running around in circles, I needed to grab a book or something, or my notes. Crap! I needed my letters!
“Val!” Dante yelled.
“I need”—I was hyperventilating, but I couldn’t stop—“to go to my room and get—”
“Val!” Dante roared, gripping me by the arms so that I was forced to look into his icy blue eyes. “Not that kind of war. It’s… business.”
“Business,” I said dumbstruck. “Is war?” I shook my head. “You’re not making sense. None of this is making sense!”
“Good.” He looked relieved. “That’s… good.”
“Dante?”
“Val,” Gio barked my name as he limped into the room; his lip was bleeding. Sergio wasn’t far behind.
I charged toward Sergio. “You hurt my uncle! You bastard!” Sal and Papi followed, all of them bloody.
They were the least violent men I knew.
And Sergio, well, he screamed violence! It was in the very air he breathed, the way he carried himself.
Dante tried to pull me back, but Sergio lifted up his hand. “It’s okay, let her. It will make her feel better.”
So for the first time in my life.
I hit another human being.
Because I was afraid.
I hit him in the chest, and when he didn’t move or even make a noise, I hit him again and again and again as the confusion of the night washed over me, and when I was done, I realized, he was hugging me.
“Where is her room?” he asked, not seeming to address anyone in particular.
Someone must have pointed because nobody answered, and he picked me up in his arms and carried me up the stairs and into my bedroom where he gently placed me on my bed and sighed. “You’re young.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” I said as tears streamed down my face. “Why did you hurt my uncles?”
“Would you believe me if I said they hit me first?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “They may seem old—they can pack a punch.”
“My uncles would never hit a person.” The idea was almost laughable. I probably would have laughed if I wasn’t so scared.
“Okay.” He sounded like he didn’t believe me. “Val.” He used the name I’d told him to. “Sleep.”
Yeah, right, because sleep was going to come so easily. A snort of disbelief escaped as I glared. “And things will look better in the morning?”
He hesitated, those gorgeous lips pressed into a firm line. “No.”
“That wasn’t very encouraging.”
“Would you rather I lie?”
I swallowed the thickness in my throat; it felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball and was trying to cough it back up. “I’m not sure.”
Sighing, he reached out and touched my cheek, then jerked back as if he couldn’t believe he’d just touched me. Abruptly, he stood and turned his back to me.
It was a nice back.
Muscular in all the right places.
I just bet that shirt had a hard time staying on.
I had a sudden image of him ripping it over his head then mentally scolded myself. He was the enemy, he was the reason something had happened—was happening—tonight. Everything in me screamed danger.
And yet, I was stripping him in my head.
Yeah, I was losing my mind.
“I used to believe it.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The lie, the one that says all you need is a good night’s sleep, and things will look better in the morning, feel better, be better.” He hung his head. “Now I know the truth.”
I swallowed. “And what’s that?”
He turned, just enough for me to see his striking profile, the tick in his jaw as he clenched his teeth into an almost grimace. “Regardless of what surrounds you, the blanket of darkness at night, or the warmth of the sun during the day, circumstances remain. Sadness… remains, anger… remains. Sleep promises rest—I haven’t rested in a very long time.”
I leaned forward. “If the next word out of your mouth is that you’re a five thousand year old vampire, I’m probably going to jump out my window.”
His lips broke into a tense smile. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m human. So very human.” He frowned as if the thought actually upset him. “I bleed just like everyone else.”
“Clearly.” I pointed to his knuckles. “Sergio?”
He crossed his arms and faced me again. “Val?”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about who I am, worry about what I’m not.”
“A vampire?”
“That.” He grabbed the blanket from the foot of my bed and placed it over me. “And… I’m not your friend, Val.”
The comment stung.
The golf ball in the back of my throat swelled, stretched wide and spread down my chest as I fought for a breath that didn’t hurt.
“Okay.” I finally squeezed out, my voice weak. “No false hope and all that?”
“I don’t do hope,” he snapped, and then he whispered under his breath. “Not anymore.”
He walked with a jerking gait over to the door and left, shutting it behind him, leaving me to wonder… if he wasn’t my friend…
Did that make him my foe?
CHAPTER TEN
A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
I’d been fielding texts and calls from the crew back in Chicago all night. Tex was losing his shit. He even went as far as to ask if Frank shot my sorry ass. I replied with a middle finger emoji and moved on.
Nixon was next.
Followed by Chase.
Even Phoenix decided it would be in his best interest to play therapist. God help us all if the darkest mob boss out of all of them, the one with the most secrets, the worst past, started sending me motivational texts about teamwork.
Actually, it was more along the lines of, keep your head out of your ass, you can’t see the sunshine when you’re poking your head where it doesn’t belong.
I didn’t have the energy to respond. Not after dealing with all the Alferos, damn it. A little warning from Frank would have been nice. Then again, that wasn’t really Frank’s style.
He was more of a toss the person into the snake pit and, if he lives, give him a promotion sort of guy.
My neck hurt, my knuckles were scabbed over with a mixture of blood and torn skin.
And the night was young.
We’d left the Alfero house with plans to have a meeting the following day, which was good, all things considered.
They wanted to talk that evening.
But I knew the last thing the innocent girl sleeping upstairs needed was to wake up and truly see her entire existence altered. Granted, you couldn’t run from reality, from your truth—if you could, I’d have done it.
God knows, I’d tried.
The truth would find her soon enough—and the happy girl who offered easy smiles and doted on her uncles like they were senile retirement home members, would be gone.
Replaced by the harsh reality that only the mafia brings.
Death.
Blood.
Destruction.
Repeat.
“Don’t be gone long,” Frank said once the car stopped near Times Square.
“Aw, you gonna miss me, old man?” I tried joking, even though my voice was gravelly, foreign. The night had taken its toll already.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Try to stay alive.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He snorted as I slammed the door to the Mercedes and leisurely walked toward Broadway.
Blood roared in my ears as I hit Broadway and looked at all the signs proclaiming a variety of shows.
With shaking hands I pulled out the honeymoon checklist Andi had given me and looked down at the scribble that said, Go to a Broadway show in New York and sing along even if it sounds horrible.
I didn’t have much to choose from since it was getting so late. I finally decided on Beauty and the Beast, maybe because I felt like the beast, only in the end, I wouldn’t turn into the prince.
Then again, it always boggled my mind. The prince had lived so long as a beast, how was it possible for him to go back to his royal status? And what was the purpose of all of his suffering if he was left with no reminder of the way he looked toward people on the outside? It would fade. And in my mind, it was only a matter of time before the prince became spoiled and discontented, because that was life.
