CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Achilles
I was going to stalk her one last time.
What could I say? Old habits die hard.
Just to make sure she’d made it to Prague safely. That should take two, three days max. Nothing that’d throw me off schedule.
I’d made it this far keeping her alive—no small feat considering the giant, red self-destruct button she insisted on punching to death on a daily basis. I didn’t need to rush. My problems in New York and Naples weren’t going anywhere.
My old man had won. Even though I didn’t kill her, Tierney was dead to the world. Out of sight but never out of mind. I was going to marry whoever the hell this Katya woman was, and the Ferrante legacy would live to see another day.
Somehow, granting my father his precious, warrior grandbabies didn’t seem as appealing as it had been when I was a teenager.
My desire to impregnate a complete stranger was low, and signing away my hypothetical children’s futures to the Camorra seemed like a terrible idea, even to my conditioned ass.
Tierney took off with the car I’d rented for her. I’d rented a small Fiat for myself, following close behind. I wore a ball cap and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. She wouldn’t notice me, because she wouldn’t be looking for me.
And this time, once I saw she was settled, I would turn around and go away.
We drove into Slovenia, and when she ditched her first car at the gas station, I waited patiently for her to get on the bus before following it.
I then waited across the street while she bargained with a merchant at the flea market, before joining her on her next four-and-a-half hour drive from Slovenia to Austria.
I wasn’t worried I’d lose her, as I’d placed a tracker at the bottom of her backpack, but I’d never dropped a target before and sure as fuck wasn’t planning to lose her.
On our way from Slovenia to Austria, my father called. I put the phone on speaker and tossed it onto the passenger seat, eyes glued on the road.
“Is it done?” he demanded. No small talk. Straight to the chase.
“Yup.”
“You sure?”
“You’re asking me if I’m sure that I killed someone?” If a tone could kill, the stronzo would finally be dead.
“I’m sorry you had to do it, son. It was a necessary evil.” He wasn’t fucking sorry, so I ignored that statement.
He continued. “The good news is you can now return home and we can start the preparations for your marriage with Katya.”
“I’m headed to Naples to sort out the Coppola shit first.”
That wasn’t a lie. I did intend to go to Naples and deal with Sangue Blu. Especially considering he’d been retaliating by slaughtering our soldiers, young and old, pushing them into pools of acid.
I would do it. After Tierney was nice and settled in Prague. I was on her timeline, but she was making good progress.
“I assigned Luca to deal with Coppola.”
“Coppola is my beef. And I think we have enough leverage to push him out of our borders.”
“Considering you just shorted him a bride and six soldiers, it’d be political malpractice to send you down there.”
“Relax, I’m not going to kill the guy.” At first, anyway.
“What is it that you plan to do?”
“Talk.”
He bristled. “A lot is riding on this. You gonna clean up the mess that you created?”
“You can bet your last dollar on it.”
The line went quiet for a beat before he cleared his throat. “She’s definitely dead, yes?”
“The fuck are you insinuating, old man?”
“Bene, bene. My hotheaded son. How you ever became such a good warrior with this temper of yours, I’ll never understand.”
I killed the call, hoping to shit my father would take my word for it.
She needed that new passport, and she needed to lay low.
Or we’d both be dead.
She checked into a luxurious hotel in Vienna at half past midnight, casually walking into the glitzy lobby with a backpack and a thirty-dollar getup.
I was in awe of her strength, with her quiet resilience and no-nonsense attitude. I knew she was hurting, but she hid it well. I was glad she chose somewhere nice, where she could get a decent meal, sleep, and amenities.
The minute she disappeared inside one of the elevators, I approached the receptionist and asked for the room next door to hers.
An obscene bribe and a veiled death threat later, I had the digital key to the neighboring suite.
Unlike Tierney, I wasn’t going to sleep.
I was going to stay alert and make sure no one else was coming for her.
At seven in the morning, I heard the door to the room adjoined to mine open and slid my laptop back to my bag.
I followed her downstairs, taking the next available elevator.
I watched as she whisked a coffee to-go and a plain croissant from an overpriced shop at the hotel, tossed her digital key in the checkout box, and slid into her car.
I did the same, and we both started on our way to Prague.
We arrived at Old Town, where Tierney walked into the coffee shop I’d sent her to. So far, she’d done everything according to my instructions—a good indication she was serious about keeping us both alive.
Through the window, I watched Jakub, my old buddy, hand her a new passport. They shared a pleasant conversation. Pleasant for them, not for me. I wanted to stick a knife in his throat for smiling at her.
Stop flirting with my woman, I wanted to hiss out.
Did I care that he was gay and happily married to a guy named Steve? No. Not one fucking bit.
From there, Tierney proceeded to open a new bank account. I waited outside the HSBC branch and tossed breadcrumbs for pigeons, keeping one eye on the door. Finally, she walked out of the bank and straight into a real estate office across the street—also a contact I’d given her.
This is where you part ways. You see that she enters her new apartment, and you leave.
I gave her explicit instructions regarding the apartment I wanted her in—highly secured, with 24/7 surveillance, but not in a huge-ass skyscraper with enough human traffic to cover any wrongdoer’s footprints. I even went the extra mile and gave her a list of properties I deemed suitable.
My balls were in my throat the entire journey following her from the real estate office after she entered her rented car. I released a queasy breath when she stopped in front of one of the buildings I’d flagged for her. Eight stories. Twenty apartments. Highly secure.
Tierney and the seedy-looking real estate agent poured out of their respective vehicles, and I parked but didn’t kill the engine.
The real estate agent said something to her, touching her arm—I REPEAT, TOUCHING HER ARM—before dropping a set of keys in her palm, then jerking a thumb behind his shoulder.
With that, he turned around and walked away.
Wait.
What the fuck?
Why wasn’t he going in with her?
More than likely, the answer was he needed to show another property, pick up something, or—Jesus, I dunno—take a shit and would be back shortly.
But there was a slight chance this was a setup.
I was leaving nothing to chance when it came to her.
Killing the engine, I slid out of the car and followed her into the building.
Luckily for me, she decided to take the stairs. If she’d taken the elevator, I’d have been searching every individual floor, which would cost me precious time.
I trailed behind her, stopping at the edge of the stairway when she reached the second floor and stuck the key in one of the doors.
Leave the door open, baby. You’re expecting that real estate agent shitbag, remember?
She shoved the door open and walked inside, leaving it ajar.
Thank. Fuck.
Pushing off the stair rail, I followed her inside. At this point, I knew I had to make myself known. She’d be pissed, but hopefully she’d understand. Hey, I was just trying to help her out.
I stepped into the sunny and spacious apartment, bare of furniture.
The windows were open, and a summer breeze swept inside.
Tierney had her back to me, staring out at Old Town Bridge Tower.
Her now-black hair danced in the wind. A waft of its flowery, clean scent entered my nostrils and my knees went weak.
It seemed like the coast was clear. Still, my heart thrummed wildly in my chest.
I took another step forward.
What the fuck do I say?
Hi, Little Flame, I know I made a big stink about never seeing you again… Well, surprise!
Or: Oh, hi, Tierney. Fancy seeing you here. How about another quickie?
Suddenly, she turned around. Our eyes locked.
She looked…scared.
Why wouldn’t she be? You were sent to Europe to kill her, idiot.
“Achilles…” Her mouth dropped in shock.
I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t here to hurt her, just to ensure no one else did.
But before I could do that, a quiet, deadly pop of a bullet muffled by a suppressor sliced through the air.
Tierney’s body dropped to the floor. Her emerald eyes were still wide-open, staring at me with terror, as blood trickled from the back of her head.
WHAT THE FUCK?
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I careened toward her, falling to my knees, holding her limp head between my hands. Blood vined around my fingers, spilling onto the floor.
“No!” I roared. “Little Flame…no… I ca—can’t… You have to stay. I’ll do anything… I promise…just…please… I can’t do this without you.”
I plastered my forehead to hers, a savage cry ripping from my chest. With one hand, I took out my phone and called the 112 emergency line.
In my other, I gripped her head wound tightly, trying to stop the blood loss.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I couldn’t breathe.
Not that there was a point doing so if she wasn’t around.
But on the off chance I could save her…
Fuck. I couldn’t lose her.
“She’s dead,” a robotic voice growled above my head.
I looked up.
Red purge mask.
Voice muffler.
Combat gear from head to toe.
Tristan Hale was standing in front of me, holding a gun.
The motherfucker just killed Tierney.
My Tierney.
The love of my life.
His seconds left on this earth severely decreased.
He better start fucking running.