23. Lance
23
LANCE
I can feel the tension rolling off Quinn in waves as the silence stretches between us. Then, after watching the door for several seconds to make sure Killian’s gone, she turns back to me.
“A bump on my head, hmm?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“Please, Lance,” she breathes, dropping all pretense as she steps toward me. And her fingers wrap around mine with such desperation it makes my heart twinge. “I don’t want you to go. It’s too risky. You’re already hurt. And Lucian clearly means business. You can’t do this all alone.”
Sighing, I run my thumbs over Quinn’s knuckles, lifting her hands to my chest and looking at their delicate perfection. “Defense doesn’t seem to be working very well as a strategy either,” I point out. “They were complacent when they thought we might back down. But the peace was only temporary.”
“Not if?—”
“Quinn. We aren’t abandoning the Sokolovs. You know Killian better than that. You know me better than that. And it’s no longer safe to assume I’m enough to protect you. Look at me,” I insist, spreading our hands so she can look at the bandage covering my ribs, the freshly healed scar on my chest.
Quinn’s eyes drop, her chin wobbling slightly when she looks at me, and it makes my chest ache to know she’s upset. I get it that she doesn’t like me being in danger. Because it drives me insane to picture her getting hurt. But I can handle it. She wasn’t built for this world like I am.
“They got far too close to taking you this time, and that was without knowing I’m alive. Once Lucian finds out—and I’m sure he will when his men don’t come back—he’s sure to increase the men he sends to get the job done. So unless you’re willing to stay home from school indefinitely, this has to happen. Now.”
“I’ll do it,” she says as soon as I’m done.
My head jerks back at her unfaltering determination. “Do what?” I so completely didn’t expect her to say that, I’m momentarily confused by her response.
“I’ll stay home if that’s what it takes to keep you safe,” she says vehemently, her grip tightening around my hands as she peers sincerely up into my eyes.
And there’s so much genuine hope and love in her jade gaze that it rips my heart open. I’m deeply touched by her demonstration of concern—that she would put her life on hold to protect me. It speaks volumes.
I don’t know that I’ve ever had someone who would do that for me before.
Maybe Killian. But he and I tend to egg each other on in reckless situations. I can’t picture him concerning himself with my safety any more than he worries about his own.
And as that realization hits home, I feel my love for Quinn growing, my appreciation for the woman who gives herself so openheartedly to me.
Releasing her hands, I gently cradle her sweet, beautiful, innocent face in my palms. And I peer down into her striking, color-changing eyes. “You are the most precious woman I’ve ever met,” I murmur. “But I can’t let you do that. It’s important that you graduate,” I insist. Then my lips curl into a soft smile. “I’ll need a full nurse ready to patch me up again at some point, right?”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” she breathes. “What if that point is tonight? And what if I can’t put you back together?”
Tears shine in her magnificent eyes, and I would give anything to take the pain away. But I can’t just stand by and allow Lucian to come after Quinn again. Not when I have the power and the skills to stop it.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “I’ll sneak in, find a way to take Lucian down, and be out of there before anyone’s the wiser. It’s not like I’m going in to take him down tonight, right? This is about reconnaissance. Getting a lay of the land so there won’t be any surprises when we do take Lucian down.”
Quinn sniffles, the tip of her button nose turning pink with her effort not to cry. Then finally, she nods. “Okay,” she agrees, the reluctance plain in her voice. “But you better come back alive.”
Smiling, I brush a soft kiss across the adorable freckled tip of her nose. “I will.”
“And without needing stitches ,” she insists, that usual undercurrent of bossiness filtering into her tone.
That makes me chuckle, and my heart swells as I pull her in for a hug. Tucking her head beneath my chin, I breathe in her subtle rose and strawberry scent and savor this moment. Because this is the one I want to lock in my memory when all the rest have faded.
My meeting with Killian took hours—just enough time for me to be slipping out of the King house around midnight. And rather than take my car or any of the familiar King vehicles, I stroll toward the busier side of Brooklyn and flag a taxi.
I give the driver an address just a few blocks away from the Agosti compound in Queens. It takes over an hour to get there from Killian’s house, but I appreciate the extra time to think through my plan. And wrap my mind around everything that’s happening in my life these days.
I’m still trying to sort out my conflicted feelings about keeping secrets from Killian. But the more time I spend with Quinn, the more confident I am that I would give anything to be with her. I only hope that doesn’t come down to losing my best friend.
Shoving that dark thought to the back of my mind, I peer out the dark window of the taxi’s cramped back seat. The Bayside neighborhood is full of massive estates that look across the Long Island Sound. Grand, picturesque, and looming, each mansion could house multiple families—just like Killian’s. But these seem far more pretentious. Well-suited to the Italian don’s style, whereas Killian’s home is chic and modern but nicely understated.
It doesn’t surprise me that Lucian would own a house built for the Joneses on steroids. With his oily demeanor and perfectly tailored fine Italian suits, he looks like the poster boy for old money. And when it comes down to it, he’s as old money as it gets.
I like that the Kings have built their empire with the sweat off their backs. The Agostis, on the other hand, have ties back to Sicily, with deep pockets and international power. When I really stop to think about it, I’m not surprised Lucian’s held up against our troops and the Sokolovs. He has immeasurable resources at his disposal.
But tonight isn’t about who has more men, more guns, or more money. Tonight’s about me finding the cracks in his defenses. And everyone has them—even Lucian Agosti.
Leaving the taxi driver a generous tip as he pulls to the curb, I slip out into the dark cover of night. He pulls away, seeming perfectly unassuming about my intent as he leaves me on the sidewalk in front of a random house.
And on my soft rubber-soled boots, I tread toward the Agosti estate. Dressed in black pants and a black henley, it’s easier to blend in with the dark. Still, as I near his property, I shrink closer to the shadows, crouching near the bushes so I won’t be spotted.
The wall is high surrounding the property—nearly twenty feet of thick stone cemented together in a beautifully natural way. The only opening is the tall wrought iron gate at the entrance to his driveway. A key code box sits to the left for a driver to punch a number in and open the two wings that come to an elegant point at the center of the barricade.
Pausing near the entrance, I search for any way to slip inside without detection. It looks like there might be a narrow blind spot right beneath the security cameras mounted to each stone gatepost. Now if I could just find a way to open the gate…
I crouch and wait, watching for any guards that might pass by the gate, any sign of life beyond the blinking red dot that says the video is live.
Nothing.
Staying low, I look behind me. Maybe it would make more sense to go in through the back. But I suspect they’ll have more security there. I know Killian does.
Just as I’m about to rethink my strategy, the gates groan to life, sliding into the wall itself and vanishing out of sight. With bated breath, I creep forward, staying close to the wall and hidden in shadow as the nose of a car appears. The sleek black Jaguar purrs quietly past, the black-tinted windows making it impossible to see inside. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m not here to kill Lucian tonight. So I let the car pass unmolested.
I do, however, take the opportunity to slip inside the property line. Using the back of the car to stay hidden, I dip around the corner of the drive and stay low to the ground as I race toward cover.
The landscaping is immaculate and open, with emerald-green grass stretching as far as the eye can see. Italian cypress trees line the drive, hinting at the fact that Lucian must pour a lot of money into his landscaping. Because there’s no way in hell a tree like that could survive a New York winter without help.
I can feel the inner street urchin coming out in me, the part of my personality that detests big money like this when so many are starving on the streets. It makes that familiar itch to steal something tingle in my hands. To take from those who turn their noses up at those less fortunate.
The Kings aren’t like that. To a man, they might be rougher around the edges, closer to barflies and degenerates than they are men of honor. But at least they would give a man the shirt off their back if it would improve his day.
This kind of living just turns my stomach.
Once again, I shove those thoughts aside. Because it doesn’t matter what kind of man I think Lucian Agosti is—or how I feel about his lifestyle. He probably won’t live much longer anyhow. And I look forward to the day we can rip this place apart, stone by stone, just to show what happens to men who think they can lay a finger on what I find precious.
Turning my attention to the layout of the property, I take note of the silent stillness. Does he not have guards on duty?
I see men standing at the front door, but otherwise, no cameras, no perimeter watch. Glancing back at the gate, I watch it slide closed. It might be a pain to get back out unless someone happens to drive in or out again.
But that’s a problem for later.
Slinking low to the ground, hiding in the shadow of the towering wall, I follow the perimeter of Lucian’s estate. It stretches over what must be five acres—a massive plot of land for Queens. The compound itself is made of rich blond and brown natural stone from top to bottom, with towering archways for each door and wide terraces leading off the upper floors.
The lower entrances are all manned by guards. And as I loop around the far side of the property, I spot one sniper with a rifle looking out across the impressive view of the Sound.
He’s not paying attention, I note.
And the terrace above him has a light on. With the patio door wide open. I can tell as a brisk breeze catches the sheer blind covering the door, making the fabric billow out through the door.
My body tenses, and I glance back up at the guard. He’s still daydreaming, looking out at almost a ninety-degree angle to where I would have to scale the building to get inside.
My pulse quickens as I assess the climb. It would be tricky but not impossible. I might bust some stitches—which no doubt would infuriate Quinn—but that would be a small price to pay if it meant taking a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to slip inside Lucian Agosti’s home unnoticed and kill him.
But Quinn.
“You better come back alive,” her words echo in my head, as does my promise that this would only be a scouting mission. And my chest tightens at the thought of deliberately doing something that would turn me into a liar. I don’t want to break my word to Quinn. Ever.
Still, what if this is the only chance we ever get?
Because as lax as the guards are, Lucian’s compound is near impenetrable. I’m not so sure I can even get out—let alone back in.
I could end this all tonight. Right now…