Chapter 23 – Ilya
T he underboss of the Rinaldi Mafia would not stop singing my praises. It was flattering or would have been if it came from anyone but him. His sponsorship not only meant training at his gym but also accompanying him to bars and clubs, poker matches, and other small social events. I could do no wrong in his eyes. I was a skilled combatant in the cage, and my prowess had been proven at the attack on their little mafia party. I was Tullio’s prized champion—the king of the forest. The bear! While the endless obligations annoyed me, it meant I was penetrating the Rinaldi organization. Opportunities were opening, and it was only a matter of time before I manipulated them to my advantage.
But I had to be patient and endure the spotlight.
Another unforeseen stroke of luck was that this sponsorship was leading to other ideas as well. Tullio was eager to put me in the field. He wanted to include me in mafia business, promoting me to the rank of associate, and that was why he’d invited me to the don’s house tonight. It was the first time since coming to the East Coast that I didn’t sneak onto the property. I wasn’t hiding in the shadows but walking through the front door at the invitation of Tullio, who was going to propose the idea to Don Aldo that I go out with the candidates for consideration to be trained.
This whole plan was stupid because Tullio knew next to nothing about me. The don told him as much before an argument broke out between the ruling heads of the famiglia. They slammed the door to the don’s private office where their garbled shouts still came through the wood.
That left me free to wander about the house. Avoiding the other mafia punks, I stayed on the main floor. I didn’t dare venture upstairs in case Tullio came looking for me. He might think I was an oaf, but I didn’t need him to wonder why I was prowling near the family bedrooms. For the first ten minutes, I found a dark corner to lurk in where I could watch and yet avoid interaction with the Italian soldiers. I knew this house better than they did. The longer I waited, the more disgust built inside. It was a good thing I wasn’t going out to fight with them. It would be hard not to do a better job than the new recruits. Annoyed, I lost interest watching the swaggering bravado.
As the others made their final preparations to leave, I decided to fix myself a snack. No one could fault me for grabbing a bite of food. With a chuckle, I sauntered to the kitchen. While hunting for a loaf of bread, I caught the wisp of a ghost flitting out into the night.
My heart skipped a beat. I wet my lips in anticipation.
There was no one about, but I moved to the doorway to check the hall. Only the drone of the house sounded. The maids had left for the day as had the mafia soldiers assembled for their orders. I smiled darkly. No one would stop me from following Isabella.
So I did, darting out the sliding back door.
The little siren wanted me to give chase. Well, a bear was a predatorial creature. One that very much enjoyed the hunt.
Since the sun had set behind the house, the shadows were longer and the breeze brisk. I inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of excitement only a chase of this nature could invoke. Did she know I was here? Was that why she was playing games? Either way, no one was about to interrupt us. The mansion was on a couple acres of land, and the backyard was filled with trees and other foliage. The guards stayed on the perimeter and cameras only watched the typical entrance points.
Which left souls like me free to stalk their prey.
The indescribable rush of excitement was cut short when I heard her. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found. I stopped abruptly, and within seconds, my heart began to bleed from my chest.
Isabella wept. Not just soft tears of discomfort. No, these were the sounds of someone whose heart was breaking. Every ragged breath, every sob that stuck in her throat, was an icy shard jabbing straight into my chest.
Did I go to her? Would she want comfort?
I fisted my hands at my side. I was obsessed with her, infatuated to the point of needing to make her mine at all costs. But going to her in such an intimate moment? That felt like an intrusion.
I haven’t earned the right to be there for her.
And that realization sent a surge of wrath through me. It was true. While we had some primal, physical connection, and I had become very well acquainted with her likes and dislikes over the time spent watching her, we were essentially strangers in the deeper, more meaningful ways.
“I will change that,” I promised, my words a whisper through the chilly evening.
Isabella’s lips began to move as if in response. It took a moment to realize that she was praying, so soft were her words that they barely sounded through her sniffles and body-shaking gulps of air. I deduced from her intercessions that Isabella was fearful for her brother’s safety.
That was something I could fix.
But not until my sweet siren was back in the house.
When a text came from Tullio, I had to leave her crying in the dark. Stalking to the front of the house, I glared at the gravel. What I felt could no doubt be read on my face. Burying it was impossible. I didn’t want to draw questions from the underboss, so I refused to look up and meet his gaze as he left the house, deep in conversation with the don.
“And tell Gambino to keep his fucking paws off my son’s fiancé,” Aldo snapped. “I can’t have her virtue called into question.”
“But she was causing a scene, signore. I hardly think Tony’s actions were uncalled for given the circumstances,” Tullio muttered sullenly.
Red—the world descended into a single color.
Luckily, I was already looking at the ground so there was no chance of these bastards seeing the murderous glint in my eyes.
“Deal with it,” the don snapped.
“Si, signore.” The underboss trudged down the steps.
Someone dared touch my girl? Not only was she distraught about the situation with her kid brother, but someone dared physically assault her? Blood would spill for this. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t reveal myself and risk starting a war with the eastern organizations. Their goon hurt her, and they weren’t going to punish the action.
“Time to go, Elijah.”
The underboss’s words had my fingers itching for the knife sheathed in my boot.
I drew a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”
If he heard the tightness in my voice, Tullio didn’t comment. I risked a glance, needing to see to better read the situation. The underboss was in a foul mood. It was a wonder his bad energy didn’t stink up the night.
Before I left town, I would punish Tullio Fabrizi for his callousness in this situation. Perhaps I would remove a body part, crippling him for it—which was far more terrible than death. The bitter part was that I would have to wear a mask while performing the amputation. Couldn’t have him knowing it was me and risk his revenge search.
This Gambino was a dead man. That much was certain.
Don Aldo was unfazed, going around his sleek, luxury car to the driver’s side. “I don’t know what my friend as told you, Elijah.” He gave a pointed look to his underboss. “But it goes without saying that if you breathe a word of what you see and hear in this house, you’ll find yourself in a world of hurt.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Keep your mouth shut,” Tullio snapped. His body shook with anger as he worked his jaw back and forth.
I nodded. “I understand.”
These threats were laughable. While I was sure they did their fair bit of torture and slaughtered numerous enemies, they couldn’t do anything to me that I hadn’t seen, participated in, or been on the receiving end of before. My body was littered with the evidence of such past encounters.
These were guppies in an ocean when I’d known the true sharks of the sea.
Stalking to my beater, I quickly drove away, turning the opposite direction of the don, who’d followed me out of the gate. Only when I was sure they hadn’t followed, did I turn into a thickly wooded area and park the car in its usual spot. It took fifteen minutes at a fast clip to double back on foot. The blood in my veins hammered wildly. I had to make sure Isabella escaped the cold.
Over the wall at the spot where the cameras would never catch me, I sprinted into the tree cover. My feet crunched over the ground, wishing it would stay lighter longer. Fucking fall and winter, when the days were short. While it made for better prowling, right now, I could really use a glimmer of light.
There was no more crying, so I was almost certain she’d gone back inside when I nearly stepped on her. My little temptress wasn’t moving.
“Izzy?” I crouched, reaching for her.
Damn, she was cold.
With a growl of frustration, I removed my jacket and wrapped her tight. She was small in my arms, tiny and fragile. I hugged her close, willing my body’s heat to transfer. Her steady breathing was the only thing that kept me calm.
Through the silent halls, I carried my precious load to a place of warmth and safety. There was no one in the back of the house, but the door next to Isabella’s, the one her fiancé occupied, had a trickle of noise coming from under it. The temptation to push in there and snap his neck was strong. She’d been hurt, physically and emotionally, and he was nowhere to protect her.
His time’s coming.
Only, as I pushed into Isabella’s room, a wave of guilt washed through me. My sweet siren wouldn’t like that. A long, rough exhale worked its way from my lungs. Well, the little prince should be punished. If I was in his shoes, I would know where my fiancée was at all times, not let her go out to weep in the cold.
Which was exactly why she was mine, not his.
Taking calming breaths as I pulled down the bedding and removed her shoes, the fresh burst of lavender sent a rush of calm through me. I couldn’t stay and watch over her, warm her with my body, or comfort her with my presence. There was somewhere she needed me to be. But this cozy room was the best place for her. I made sure she was tucked tightly in the bed and snuggled deep in comfortable blankets.
I brushed the hair back from her face. “I heard you, darling girl. You don’t have to worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
And then I bent down and brushed a kiss over her forehead.
***
How was it possible that this criminal organization was as powerful as their reputation said? These mafia soldiers scuttled around like chickens without their heads!
The longer I watched, the more befuddled I became. These Italians were running one of the sloppiest missions I’d ever seen. Leaning against a wall, I frowned as they allowed the youths, their trainees, to scurry blindly about the streets. From what I’d gathered, these were young recruits being tested and guided by the more seasoned heads. Yet the actual mobsters looked just as incompetent as the boys they were supposed to be training.
They’re going to get themselves killed.
When the Rinaldi Famiglia partnered in business with the Conti Famiglia, they’d made an active enemy with a third family. It seemed tonight the Rinaldis were taking their revenge against the Scorso Famiglia for the shootout that disrupted their party the other night.
“Well, shit,” I muttered.
It would be wise to put the Scorsos on my radar to make sure there were no surprises when I made my own moves. Yet another player in this game to watch.
However….
If there was a war between the Italian families, it would be easier to fake my little siren’s death as a casualty. I rolled my neck, and a series of pops crackled down my spine. Pushing away from the wall, I stalked the group of four Rinaldis, keeping a constant eye on the brother while making sure none of the others led him toward harm. They were going to set fire to a warehouse.
What they didn’t know was that there were a dozen guards inside the structure.
Is it possible they are doing this on purpose? It would make sense to create a situation where Gio became a casualty of war. Disposing of the late don’s son would mean there was no challenge to the current don or his prodigy. Which would explain why the fiancé was at home, watching some sci-fi movie instead of working in the family business.
Well, that wasn’t happening on my watch.
My feet pounded across the pavement as I sprinted ahead of the Rinaldis. The night swallowed me whole as I slipped into their enemy’s compound, the dark void broken only by the harsh floodlights sweeping the perimeter. I avoided the great pools of light and drew my weapon. As I moved, I screwed the suppressor onto the handgun.
I placed the weapon between my teeth and jumped onto the first stacked crate. It was moments like these that I was grateful for the gym back in Chicago where I could practice jump squats and other more street style gymnastic moves. I might not be as slim and agile as the youngest Vlasov, but I didn’t need to be as quick as Luka to kick the little fucker’s ass. Not that we’d squared off in the sparring ring, despite his incessant begging. I didn’t like fighting my brothers-in-arms, even if it was practice. I saved my battles for the underground fight circuits.
Climbing the stack of crates, I pushed the upper window open and pulled myself into the warehouse. There were no lights up here, but as soon as I moved from the window, light flooded a path to the door. It was chilly up here. The air was also stale despite the strong scent of coffee.
Drugs. There were likely drugs in the crates, and the roasted beans were meant to cover the scent.
Through the crack in the door, I scanned for adversaries. When none presented themselves, I hurried forward. The upper hall was clear. They weren’t expecting an attack from above.
Good. That meant they were likely still grouped and pointing their weapons at the front door.
When I’d surveyed this site from the roof of a neighboring building, I counted an accurate number of assailants. The Rinaldis were either sloppy enough to think there were only the soldiers at the gate and in the yard. Or they miscounted on purpose and didn’t communicate the sheer force waiting inside with their younger recruits sent to storm the building.
I hadn’t taken out this many assailants by myself in a few years. But the bloodlust of battle was simply a switch that once flipped on became a second nature. Drawing my knife, I ghosted down the metal stairs. I had maybe ten minutes before the Rinaldis broke through the front gate and the brother’s group came straight for the warehouse with their incendiaries.
The honed edge of my blade slid across the neck of a goon with ease. It was like slicing through a piece of dinner meat.
I caught his mass and lowered him to the ground, using the stairs as cover. Three more goons joined him, each pulled higher on the stairs to conceal the destruction. The rest were too far away.
I darted across a narrow opening and took cover. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I forced it to quiet, every muscle tense as I crouched low behind the stack of crates. Boots crunched just a few feet away as a goon moved to look out a window. I held my breath. One, two…then silence.
It was too quiet in here to start shooting. Even with a suppressor, the soft pops would be noticeable.
The goon moved again, this time right in my line of sight. When he turned, he would see me. The urge to strangle him with my bare hands prickled across my skin. Slipping my gun into the waistband of my pants, I rose and stalked forward. One arm curled around his throat as my palm clapped over his mouth. I squeezed and dropped backward, letting my weight drag us to the concrete. From this position, it was easy to wrap the rest of his struggling form tight.
He stopped twitching several minutes later.
It was precious time lost, but there was one less opponent.
Just as I positioned myself to take down another goon, gunfire broke out at the perimeter. With the increase in noise, the men inside shuffled in anticipation. I used that cover to my advantage. Headshots were risky, the sudden movement of the target making it possible to miss. So I shot center mass and crept up behind to slide my blade across each throat. I had to change my clip only once.
By the time the Rinaldis burst through the door, there was only my presence to haunt them. I stepped back into the shadows, the darkness enveloping me once again. The air was thick with the metallic scent of their oil and fuel. My boots were soundless on the concrete as I hugged the walls, staying just outside the beam of light. The glow was blinding in the blackness, making my pupils contract painfully each time I risked a glance.
But I had to make sure there was no funny business.
If the youths of the mafia thought it was odd their assailants were dead, they didn’t comment. I cracked my neck and glared at them. The sloppy training was inexcusable. The ranking officers of the war camp I belonged to would have beaten—if not shot—us for such conduct. The scars on my back ached in the memory of one such beating, although I’d personally never been careless on a mission.
When I was doing my initial reconnaissance, a little digging showed this organization was struggling financially. But I could never have guessed from the outside that the Rinaldi Mafia was this disorganized and badly run. Aldo Bruno wouldn’t hold power for very long if he kept operating at this level.
As I continued to watch, the brother came into view. His shadow stretched long across the compound. My chest tightened as I watched him stop to adjust his rifle. A few steps and we would be on top of one another. He didn’t look my way. I slipped behind a column, the rough metal scraping my back, but no sound escaped.
She loves him.
A gust of wind shot through the open door. I could feel the cool night air against my clammy neck. This person was precious to Isabella, so what did that mean for my schemes?
I cursed softly in Russian.
If she was that distraught about him coming out tonight, there was no way Isabella would leave this boy. I rubbed the bridge of my nose against the butt of my gun. The answer was obvious. I couldn’t be the reason they were separated. How I hadn’t seen it yet proved I wasn’t watching my siren as closely as I should. What I knew of her was surface level. To prove that she was my future, I needed to make her every thought, every desire, and each secret my whole world.
So…I would have to fake two deaths and kidnap two Rinaldis because little Giovanni was coming with us or his sister would never forgive me.
Another violent string of curses ran through my head.
The Rinaldis left a long trail of fuel out the front door as they disappeared. This warehouse was going to go up in smoke in a matter of seconds. I retraced my steps, grumbling up the whole flight of stairs. By the time I crawled onto the stack of crates, smoke wafted up to my perch. I waited for the Rinaldis to leave through the perimeter before I dropped to the ground and folded into the night.