Destroyer (The Santini Assassins #3)

Chapter 1 Man Down

MAN DOWN

SYDNEY

Sydney Austin loved spending time in Italy, but she wasn’t there to take in its rich history or appreciate an authentic Italian meal.

She was there on business, so she stayed focused on her mark as he drove out of Bergamo.

To her surprise, he was alone. No security team, no chauffeur driving him to his next—and final—destination.

Just after midnight, and the city was bustling with people. That worked in her favor. She’d spent the evening blending into the crowded bars and outdoor cafes but, as her target drove north, the traffic thinned, the noise quieted.

He turned off the main road, wove his way around the peaceful street, then motored into an upscale neighborhood. Though the chilly October air kept her cool, her fingers were overheating inside her black, leather gloves. If that was her biggest problem, she had nothing to complain about.

The lone male parked on the street, made his way toward a stunning villa. After disappearing inside, he didn’t flip on any outside lights.

Nice.

For the next several minutes, darkness was her closest ally.

Sydney drove two blocks past the home, parking in front of another upscale villa she knew stood vacant. This wasn’t an ideal spot for a hit, but she didn’t get to choose the target or the location. She had to work with what she had.

In order to insure a smooth operation, she’d been in the city for three days watching and waiting for the right time to strike.

That time was now.

And she was ready.

Days earlier, she replaced the license plate of her rental car with a counterfeit. Since then, she hadn’t driven a single kilometer over the speed limit, and she behaved like a model citizen in a foreign land. She needed to go unnoticed, and she’d achieved that flawlessly.

After pulling a ski mask over her short, dark blond wig, she grabbed the silencer from the overnight bag on the passenger floor and slipped silently out of the car.

While there were security cams on a lot of the homes, she wasn’t concerned.

She was fast, she was exact, and she was used to working in the shadows.

As she walked down the dark street—using the trees and bushes to keep her well hidden—she reached under her jacket and stroked her Glock 19, then pulled out her SIG Sauer P226 and screwed on the suppressor.

Her third weapon, a compact SIG Sauer P365-380, was strapped to her calf, concealed by her pants.

Guns made most people nervous. Not Sydney. For her, they had the opposite effect. Like a baby with a soothing binky, gripping the hard metal in her gloved hand calmed her.

A few of the upscale homes were lit up, but most stood dark against the night sky.

The crescent moon shone like a beacon directing her toward her destination while the mountains loomed like boogeymen in the distance.

After cutting between two villas, she ducked into the backyard of one and made her way toward the house.

And that’s when she heard him. He was sitting on the second-floor balcony staring at his phone.

“Oh, yeah,” he groaned. “So good, baby.”

A shudder flitted through her. She didn’t want to take him out while he was yanking his junk, but she wasn’t about to wait until he’d finished. She had mere minutes to get in, eliminate him, then vanish like smoke into the night.

As he moaned through his orgasm, she slipped inside through the unlocked back door. In seconds, her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she bolted toward the stairs. Up she flew, two at a time, the adrenaline pumping through her at a quickening pace.

She both hated and loved that she was going to end this monster’s life. The conflicting emotions haunted her dreams, but she shoved out the feelings as she hurried toward the back bedroom. The French doors stood wide open, her mark sitting in a chair on the balcony, his back to her.

Here we go.

Though she wanted to tell him what she thought of him, she wasn’t there for a late-night chat. Her opinion of this monster was irrelevant. She gripped her SIG Sauer with both hands.

He pushed out of the chair, his bare white ass a stark contrast to his jet-black sweater. After pulling up his pants, he made his way into the darkened bedroom. She aimed her weapon, placing the laser’s red dot on the small space between his eyes, and she squeezed the trigger.

POP!

The bullet pierced him between the eyes and he dropped to the floor. She strode over, opened fire thrice more— POP! POP! POP! —piercing his heart. Then, she pulled out her phone and snapped three pics.

One down, two to go.

She tucked the suppressor into her pocket and fitted the firearm into its holster.

Then, she hurried downstairs and out the back door, closing it behind her.

Out front, she made her way toward her vehicle, ducking behind trees as she went.

At the corner, she spotted a man and a woman with their small dog, so she crouched behind a hedgerow and waited.

Only the couple didn’t move.

They stood there on the damn street corner, talking.

She needed to leave. Lingering at the scene of a crime she’d just committed, especially in a foreign country, was bad. Really bad.

C’mon. Keep walking.

When the couple came together in a kiss, Sydney glanced around for an escape route.

And that’s when she spotted the security car patrolling the neighborhood.

She hurried behind a tree trunk, but her ass had to be sticking out.

It’s not that it was that large, but it was round, and it had been shoved into tight, black pants.

The heat of the mask suffocated her face, while perspiration trickled down her back.

The car rolled slowly by. To her horror, the patrolman shone a spotlight around.

Did someone hear the gunshots?

Though she’d used her silencer, the neighborhood was pin-drop silent. The car halted at the corner, the security guard spoke with the couple.

Go, now!

The house next to her target’s home lit up, the front door opened, and a man came rushing outside. He stood in his bathrobe, glancing up and down the street. When he saw the security guard, he whistled loudly, and started waving.

“Ecco! Sono qui!” He shouted. “Here! I’m here!”

Sydney glanced from him to the security guard, who hurried to his car and drove down the street.

Though she could have started panicking, she didn’t. This wasn’t the first time a hit hadn’t gone according to plan. As the car drove past her, she peered up the street. The couple had disappeared. If she was going to bolt, it was now.

She eyed another large tree a few houses up, and—avoiding the sidewalk—she strode toward it.

Once there, she peeked out. The patrol car’s security light was flashing and he was talking in earnest to the man.

A woman had joined him and a few neighbors had stepped outside to view the situation firsthand.

Still masked, Sydney hurried toward the corner but, when she got there, the couple was headed in her direction. They both saw her.

Fuck.

The man took off running toward her while the woman shouted something in Italian. Sydney bolted across the street, then charged forward as fast as she could toward her vehicle. As the shouting continued, she rounded the corner and flew toward her parked car.

Like a dream she couldn’t wake from, the lights from the security car illuminated the road ahead of her. She was trapped, but she wouldn’t give herself up. There would be no one who would come forward to save her. She had to save herself.

She raced past her rental car—wishing she could flee the scene—and flew down a quiet side street. As soon as she hid behind an overgrown bush, she pulled out her phone and dialed.

Pick up.

Seconds passed while the phone rang.

Dammit, he’s not answering.

“Sydney, che sorpresa,” the man answered. “What a surprise. Are you coming to Italy?”

“I’m in Bergamo, and I’m about to get arrested,” she whispered into the phone.

“I’m in Milan.”

That was almost an hour away.

“Give me your address,” he said.

She whispered the location of the hit, adding, “I’m two blocks north.”

“I got you.” The line went dead.

After several long seconds, she snuck a peek onto the street. It was dark. If her contact didn’t come though, she needed to get herself the hell out.

Okay, Sydney, think.

Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen, answered. “Tell me something good.”

“A woman driving a black four-door sedan is three minutes out. She’s going to park near your car, get out, and walk her German Shepherd. Share your GPS location with me.”

Sydney did.

“Got it,” he said. “Stay on the phone with me.”

“A car is coming,” she whispered. The security patrol car drove slowly by, the floodlight shining into the bushes. “It’s security.”

The car stopped, then backed up. He shone the light on the other side of the street, then shone it in the yard where she was hiding. Like a child playing hide-n-seek, Sydney, lowered her masked head and held her breath.

Keep moving.

Then, the car continued slowly up the street, and she breathed.

“What’s your rental car?” asked the man on the phone.

“A white two-door coupe,” Sydney replied.

“She parked near you. She’s got the dog on a leash.”

Sydney peeked out from behind the bush. “Tell her to walk toward the patrol car. He’s driving toward the corner. I’m crouched behind the second house.”

“As soon as she’s there, tell me,” he said. “I’ll have her stop. Walk over to her and take her hand.”

“I’m in a ski mask.”

“Yeah, so do something about that. She’s fifteen seconds out.”

Sydney removed the mask, shoved it inside her jacket, and ran her fingers through the blonde wig to fluff it up. A tall woman with long, dark hair, sauntered by, then stopped, a large dog by her side.

“You trust her?”

“Absolutely. It’s my cousin Monroe.”

Relief coursed through her as she sauntered toward the sidewalk. Once there, she smiled. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded, then clasped her hand. “I’m Monroe. Good to finally meet you.”

“Same.” Sydney eyed the quiet street.