Chapter 21
LUCA
As we fell asleep together, I thought about how amazing it felt to have her in my arms. I hadn’t realized how low my energy was getting. It’s been a nonstop crazy train since I was first sent to Liverpool—meeting her, the clusterfuck in Chicago, being on the run. Negotiating with Vincenzo.
Getting home and getting her to the safest place I could think of for the time being must have switched off at least some of my instincts, because I drifted off with her in my arms like a lovelorn sap.
The sex blew my mind, but the way I feel about her is much more than sex.
I love her. I will kill for her, and I will die for her.
We’re unlikely to get much peace in the near future, and on some basic level I knew that and let myself rest. All of which makes it especially jarring to be woken up by the sound of Moonface howling downstairs and Matteo hammering on my door.
I leap from the bed, still naked, and pull the door open. My friend looks me up and down and says, “There’s someone at the front, Boss.”
“Have we been breached?” I ask as Rosa stirs behind me. She’s naked in that bed, and the covers have slipped down to expose her breasts. Matteo seeing me nude is one thing, seeing her is entirely different.
“Look away, you dirty motherfucker!” I snarl, fully prepared to tear his head from his shoulders.
He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender as he turns and faces the opposite direction. “No breach, Boss,” he says, amusement in his voice. “Whoever it is, they rang the doorbell. Real polite-like.”
“What is it?” Rosa asks drowsily. “Is there a problem?”
She climbs out of bed, and I stare at her as she wanders the room, looking for her underwear.
She doesn’t seem to care that Matteo is standing right here.
“Fuck,” she says after stubbing her toe on the side of the bed.
“What is wrong with me this morning? I feel like I’ve been hit by a pickup truck. ”
Matteo sniggers, obviously assuming that the pickup truck in question is me, and I shove him hard in the back.
I follow him downstairs and into the control room, which is off the main living area. Pietro is shouting from one of the bedrooms, and we ignore him. There’ll be time to deal with him later.
I stand behind Matteo, looking over his shoulder at the screen that shows the front door.
As I stare at it, Moonface comes along and licks my hands, obviously unsettled.
Doorbells and people knocking trigger a part of her doggy brain that is still traumatized by being raised to fight.
She can cope with gunfire fine, but many other sounds agitate her.
I pat her huge head and try to figure out who the hell is standing outside my top-secret safe house. It happens, of course—salespeople, delivery guys looking to leave a parcel for a neighbor, Girl Scouts selling cookies—but at the moment, I am hypervigilant.
The male standing on my stoop is obviously unhappy, wearing some kind of weird hat but no shirt and trying to hide in the scrap of shadow cast by the building. The attractive blond woman next to him waves her fingers up at the camera she shouldn’t have noticed.
I sense Rosa coming up behind me before I feel her hand on my ass, and she winks at me as she leans in between the two of us to get a better look. “Oh. That’s Donatella,” she announces breezily. “Don’t know who the guy is, though. Vamp from the way he’s sizzling.”
She’s right. There is a faint shimmer of heat coming from the bare skin of his chest.
“You told her where we were?” I ask. “You gave the fucking Agostini Seer my address?”
“Not technically,” she answers with a shrug. “I just left my phone on so she could track me. And chill the fuck out, will you? I trust her. She’s one of the good guys. Now are we going to let her in, or are you happy for her friend to fry?”
“I don’t think they’re friends,” Matteo chimes in. “She just grabbed his arm and held it in direct sunlight. Now it looks like she’s laughing.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I’m surrounded by idiots.
“Let them in,” I snap. “But keep them in the kill room. And will someone please go and shut Pietro the fuck up before I end him?”
I move quickly down the stairs, Moonface at my heels, her claws skittering on the wood floors. She snarls and growls at the door as the bell rings again, one long continuous note as the damn Seer on my step keeps her finger on it.
“Stop ringing the fucking bell!” I shout, dragging Moonface back by her collar.
Matteo engages the defenses, and metal bars slam down at every doorway. At the bottom of the steps, Moonface and I stand on the other side of them.
The lock on the front door disengages and it opens. First through is the vamp, half thrown, half falling, and he lands on the parquet with a clatter and an agonized scream. I can smell his burning flesh from here, and as he crashes down, his weird hat falls off and rolls along the floor.
Next is the Seer—tall and elegant, with blond hair hanging straight down her back, she’s dressed head to toe in designer bullshit and wearing five-inch leopard-print heels. Subtle, she is not.
“Hi, is Rosa home?” she says, her hands on her slender hips, head cocked to one side. She presses one viciously pointed heel down on the vamp’s chest, and I grimace as it pierces his wounded flesh. “I’ve brought her a present.”
She looks around and takes in the defenses, and her expression turns pouty. “Well, that’s really very rude.” Her eyebrows lift as she studies me. “And do you greet all your guests with your dick out, or am I special?”
Oh shit. I completely forgot the whole clothes thing.
“Not that I’m complaining,” she continues, strolling closer and staring at my junk. “I mean, it is an impressive dick.” She doesn’t seem at all fazed by any of this—the howling pit bull, the metal bars, the naked vampire growling at her. She must have balls of steel.
I’m about to reply when Rosa gallops down the steps behind me, yelling at Matteo to “stop fucking around and let me in.” Matteo won’t do shit until he knows it’s all right by me, so I give the camera directly above the front door a thumbs-up. The bars click back up, and Rosa runs toward her friend.
She never mentioned that they were close, and maybe they’re not—maybe it’s the relief of seeing someone she knows, someone who isn’t a vampire—but they fall into each other’s arms like sorority sisters after summer break.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” I say, letting go of Moonface’s collar.
Now that the bell has stopped ringing, she’s back to her usual sweet self.
She runs over to the two women and shoves her giant head between them until she gets some attention.
Donatella sinks into a graceful crouch, the curve of her ass threatening to bust out of her pencil skirt, and accepts a thorough doggy tongue bath.
Matteo comes up behind me and looks on with a goofy smile on his crooked face. “Who knew Seers were such hotties?” he whispers. “And they like Moonface. I think I might be in love.”
I fix him with a warning glare. “I’ll be back in five. Keep an eye on the vamp—he’s healing, and he might be dangerous.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Matteo goes over to the now-crawling figure and kicks him once in the face so hard he goes straight back down.
Leaving them to it, I take the stairs three at a time back up to my room, where I sling on some clothes.
On my way back down, I find Pietro on the landing, scooting himself along with his hands.
With a sigh, I scoop him up and carry him down with me.
I’ve changed my mind—I wish to fuck that his legs would hurry up and heal.
I dump him on the floor and wonder what disasters I’ve managed to miss in a matter of seconds. The crispy vamp is cowering in a corner of the room. Moonface tries to lick his nose, and he waves his arms at her in protest.
“She’s only being friendly,” says Donatella. “Go on, give her a pat.”
“Get it the fuck away from me,” he retorts, his Southern accent as deep-fried as his singed flesh. “It’s a monster. It’s going to kill me!”
“She’s not a monster.” Matteo whistles her back to his side and glowers. “And she’s not a weapon. She’s my little baby girl, and if you don’t watch your mouth, you cocksucker, I’ll stick a stake in your heart via your asshole.”
Donatella looks on, interest clear on her face, then uses a stage whisper to talk to Rosa. “Ooh, I like this one. Can I keep him?”
I walk over to the bleating vamp and knock him out with once quick punch to the head.
It’s beginning to feel a bit like I’m living in an episode of The Three Stooges, and I need to gain control before things get any more out of hand.
Who the fuck is this guy, and why did Donatella bring him here?
More importantly, is Rosa right—can we trust this woman?
“Pietro!” Donatella says, noticing his crumpled form at the base of the stairs. “What happened to you?”
“Long story, for another time,” he answers.
Good luck with telling that one, pal. It doesn’t exactly leave him covered in glory.
Rosa’s smile falters, and I know she’s thinking the same thing.
Her fingers tremble a little as I take her hand in mine, and I drop a kiss on her forehead.
She turns those green eyes up to me, so full of hope, so full of trust. She feels safe with me, and that makes my knees weak.
I hide the emotion but keep hold of her hand as I tell Matteo to go reset the security. If Rosa was wrong—if the Agostini Seer has led Tomasso right to us—we need to be prepared.
“How’s Paola?” Rosa asks in a higher-than-normal tone. I sometimes forget how much humans, even quasi-humans like her, care about each other.
If something bad happened to Matteo, I’d burn down the world to avenge him, but that’s all. I wouldn’t feel it in my heart the way Rosa does.
“She’s good,” Donatella replies, a little smile on her lipstick-red lips. “She’s regained consciousness. Only spoken a few words, but she’s awake—and you know how tough she is. She’ll come back fighting.”
“That’s wonderful news, and I’m so glad to see you, Donna. But I have questions, and I’m sure you do too. For starters, who’s the loser in the corner? And what’s with the hat?”
“That’s a fez. Picked it up in Cairo and thought it looked cute. The loser in the corner is Kurt,” she announces smugly, and a surge of anger rises in my chest. I’m glad I punched him out, and I look forward to doing it again.
This is the fucker who’s behind the constant Calls Rosa has been dealing with.
The asshole who was trying to exhaust her, wear her out, weaken her so they could pick her off.
So far it’s all been rumor, supposition.
Now we have the man himself and we might get some answers. Or he’ll die while I’m trying.
“After you called, I went to the hospital where Paola had been until that morning,” Donatella continues.
“I lay in her bed, pretending to be her, and when he came close enough, I took him down. You should have seen it, Rosa,” she says, laughing.
“He jumped out of his skin when this girl he thought was in a coma suddenly leapt up and kicked the shit out of him. It was so funny. And then, well, I chartered a flight and got the hell out of Cairo. I opened all the windows on the plane so poor Kurt had to sit in the toilet cubicle for twelve hours straight. That was also pretty hilarious. In fact, I’ve really enjoyed having him around.
” Again, her laugh rings out, but then she turns serious.
“Now, your turn—what the fuck is going on?”
“Could I get away with ‘long story for another time’?”
“Nah. I’ve flown halfway around the world and lied to my parents to come here. You know I hate lying to my parents.”
Rosa nods and squeezes my hand. I notice that she’s deliberately avoiding Pietro, not looking at him, not speaking to him, not going anywhere near him. He notices it too, his chin against his chest, his face contorted from pain. It’s a good look on him.
“So, Donna, short version then. Tomasso—”
“The Grand Ball Sack,” I correct, grinning at her. She returns the smile, and I see how much it lifts her, having me here. Me having her back.
“Yeah, that’s his new name, okay? Anyway. The Grand Ball Sack is having some kind of late-life crisis and has decided he’s launching a takeover of all the Vecchissime, and possibly of the Coscas.”
“The Coscas?” Donatella frowns at me. She’s seen my ink. She knows what I am. “What the fuck is Tomasso doing messing with the vamp Mafia?”
“We don’t really know yet,” Rosa replies. “We’re still piecing things together. But Don Vincenzo, that’s Luca here’s boss, has more information. He thinks the Grand Ball Sack is making moves, and Pietro agrees. And Donna … He was the one who got Anna Lombardi killed.”
Donatella’s eyes cloud at this news, but she stays silent, her lips pursed together. “You’re sure?” she eventually says.
“As I can be. And I think he’s been orchestrating all the Calls. That he’s the one behind the attack on Paola, and I suspect you were next. Me … Well, he had other plans for me. And that really is a long story and will most definitely have to wait for another day.”
Donna nods, her silky blond hair swaying with the movement. “And this guy? Kurt? Is he any use to you or should I throw him back on the street?”
“He’ll be of use,” I growl. “He’ll tell us what we need to know, I promise you that.”
“Maybe.” Her pert nose wrinkles as she looks from me to him. “But I did my best to soften him up on the way here, and he gave me nothing. Perhaps you’ll be more persuasive.”
“He will,” Rosa pipes up, sounding excited. “He has a non-sex dungeon in the basement.”
“Ha! It’s only a non-sex dungeon until someone has sex in it, you know?” her friend says, looking at me suggestively. “Personally, I enjoy a bit of blood with my coitus.”
I don’t react to her provocation, but I see Donna for exactly what she is. Rosa told me this Seer was a gossip, a socialite, a gadfly. That she was a hive of information because everybody liked her, because everyone relaxed around her, because she made them all laugh.
Rosa might see all of that, but I see a grade A predator standing in my living room.
I look away from her probing eyes. After hefting Kurt over my shoulder like the sack of shit he is, I head down the stone staircase into the basement.
Time to have some fun.