Chapter 2
TWO
CRICKET
MEANWHILE
“I like it a little rough. Are you okay with that?” Rossi grunts out, not bothering to look up from his phone. We’re seated across from each other, him in an armchair with a small table right beside. His cigar is smoked down to the stud, the bitter, burning smell filling the entire private room. I’m seated on a black, leather sofa that squeaks miserably every time I shift. The sound annoys me, so I try to sit still in the awkward cross-legged position. I’m seated uncomfortably to hide the bulge of my small pistol strapped to my thigh beneath my long trench coat. If I lean too far on my left hip, it’s easy to make the gun out.
It’s shocking I wasn’t patted down. I was fully prepared to handle Rossi’s bodyguard, but Rossi beckoned me right in and sent his guard away. Dumbass. Rossi either has a god complex, or he was a little too eager to see me naked.
“Rough is extra,” I reply, fully embracing my undercover identity as Olivia , a new escort at Club LaRoe. I even lied and said I was a virgin, just to ensure Rossi was eager to be first in line. He has a thing for virgins. I have a hunch as to why. Those girls would have no comparison point for his piss-poor performance. But he’ll be dead before he can figure out the truth.
“How much extra?” he starts, but then holds up his hands. “Actually, don’t worry about it.” He glances me up and down, his beady eyes scouring my body as he all but salivates onto the furry little beast he calls a goatee that warms his pointy chin. “I’d empty my bank account for a woman like you.”
“Well, you may have to,” I sass back. “My virginity is not cheap.”
A sinister part of me is trying to provoke him. Sometimes, I enjoy a fight. I love their shock when they see the little blond doll fight back. I like to place the knife against their throat and watch the final flicker in their eyes…more surprise than fear. It feeds my ego, I suppose. I’m far from the helpless eighteen-year-old Fiona, abandoned and left to die in a locked room.
“How about we have a safe word?” He finally sets his phone aside and stands. Smiling, he removes his suit jacket and then unbuttons his shirt. I try not to show my disgust.
He’s oddly short. I’m five foot five, and I tower over him. His large beer belly takes up the majority of his frame; his body is more of a barrel with limbs. But that’s not the most off-putting thing about Rossi. It’s how fucking hairy he is. His mustache is so thick and untamed, it overcomes his top lip. His arms and shoulders are coated with such thick, dark curls, I think Sasquatch would be impressed. I wonder if the women here need gallons of lube to finish the job. There’s not a chance in hell this man is getting anyone wet.
“Perhaps, ‘ yellow’ as a warning”—he cracks his knuckles—“and ‘red’ if you can’t handle it?”
Sick fuck actually gets off on hurting his partner? God, I’m so tired of men like this. “How about if I don’t like it, I cut your dick off?” I give him a cute smile.
His glacial scowl turns into a gruff laugh. “Well done. Right on character. I told Madam Beauvoir I like them feisty. You are checking all the boxes, sweetheart.”
Madam Beauvoir arranged my appointment with Rossi. She’s currently waiting back at PALADIN headquarters until my business here is done. We didn’t kidnap her; it’s for her own protection. She sold out a client…a client who is a mafia leader… It’s quite possible she’ll need our protection forever.
“Well, let’s get to it. Take off your coat,” Rossi says.
I rise. Showtime. The minute Rossi sees me in my underwear, he’ll notice the gun on my thigh, and I’ll have less than three seconds to put two bullets in his head, side by side. The mark of a Conti assassination. It has to look like this was a deal gone bad. That’s the only way to break the alliance. I undo the top button of my trench coat, but Rossi’s phone rings loudly. He checks the screen.
“One moment, sweetheart. Duty calls. Sit back down. Would you care for some wine?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I need a clear head for precision purposes. Lance, my best friend and partner in most all of my crimes, could make this shot in his sleep. I’m better long range. I like to stalk from a distance. With a good sniper rifle, I can pick out an eyeball from three buildings away, and then put a bullet through it. But Lance has inhuman reflexes and is a savant with a pistol close range. It’s not something you can learn; I’ve tried. I’m only here with Rossi because he wouldn’t want to see Lance in his underwear.
I smirk to myself at the thought. Lance near naked is actually a beautiful sight. I’ve seen Lance undressed in all his muscular, masculine glory a thousand times over the years. It’s nothing I trip over anymore. So, my best friend is good-looking…no, great -looking. Hotter than sin, more accurately. But Lance is so much more to me. Normally, men look at me as something to possess. A prize to own.
From the very moment I met Lance, he’s treated me like an equal partner. We have an unspoken arrangement; I’d take a bullet for him, and he’d take one for me, too. That’s a sacred kind of love you don’t mess with for the sake of gratuitous sex. No matter how gratifying it would be…
We got too close in the break room once a couple of months ago. One stupid kiss was all it took for me to get weak-kneed and doe-eyed. I’ve gone overboard since then to reestablish our brother-sisterhood. I get dressed behind closed doors, never giggle too hard at his jokes, I scowl a lot, and try not to be alone with him for too long outside of missions. Otherwise, his gravity-pull might overcome me again.
“Fine, then when’s Accardi expected?” Rossi grumbles into the phone, catching my attention. “He was supposed to be here, tonight.”
A chill runs down my spine, touching my vertebrae one by one.
Accardi.
It’s been almost a year since I gave up my search. So many times I gave Vesper the slip, hunting for information on what hellhole Luca descended into. I’m no longer a prisoner at his mercy. Everything I am today is because of him. Broken, angry, and still hell-bent on revenge, all thanks to Luca Accardi.
I pull out my phone, pretending not to be listening as intently as I am. I’m already past due, and Lance needs an update. We were supposed to be in and out, less than ten minutes. But he’ll have to wait a little longer. I feel it in my bones…
I can almost taste the sweet answers.
Me
I’m fine. I need more time. Trust me.
Rossi continues into the phone, “Showboating son of a bitch. Of course, he needs to arrive with an entire plane full of ammo. What time is wheels down?” He takes a long sip from his glass and nearly spits it out. “Tomorrow?” Rossi’s face grows red and seems to swell. “Wants to keep us waiting here like a bunch of servants. With us all aligned, Accardi’s rule ends now. Text me the time and location. My men and I will meet him with a show of force, so he knows who he’s fucking with now.” Rossi hangs up and tosses his phone aside angrily. He downs the rest of his glass.
My heartbeat is vibrating out of control. I suck in my lips to control the twitching. As much as I want to put this pistol to his temple and demand answers, I have to approach this with care, because I have more than one question.
“Why so angry, Sir? ” I purr.
His smile grows. “That’s a nice touch, pet. Say that again.”
I make my way over to Rossi and run my hands across his bare shoulders, trying not to recoil. Grazing his earlobe with my lips, I whisper, “Who has Sir so upset?” I pout, like a cartoon kitty begging for milk. It’s cringe-worthy, but no matter. I’ll kick my dignity right out the door for some answers.
“Oh, just business,” Rossi murmurs, his gaze fixed on my lips. “I love your accent, pet. I’ve never been with an Irish girl.”
Call me “pet” one more time, motherfucker. “Girl?” I ask, reminding myself to keep my cool.
He laughs. “Pardon me. I meant woman. ” He grabs a tendril of my hair and wraps it around his finger. “Such a beautiful woman.” He leans in close for a kiss, and I can’t help but dodge it. Rossi narrows his eyes.
“Sorry, nerves,” I mumble. “I changed my mind. May I have that drink after all?” I point to the open wine bottle. “I’m far more generous with a little buzz.”
“Aren’t I paying for your first time?” Rossi asks, skepticism lining his voice. “How do you know if you’re generous?”
I shrug innocently. “I’m just assuming. It seemed like something sexy to say.”
He runs his fingers across my jawline, and I force myself to stay still. “You don’t need to be so nervous with me. The first round, I’ll be gentle. Then, I’ll have you my way.” He cups my sex through my coat, making me grunt in surprise. His deep belly laugh is utterly repulsive, ringing in my ears. “So innocent,” he murmurs.
He thinks I’m nervous because he touched me. In reality, he almost just grazed my pistol. I’d have to end him right away, and then I’ll never know which Accardi he’s talking about. I need to move this along.
“Who’s arriving tomorrow? Sounds dangerous if you’re meeting him with force.”
He fills a clean glass with the rich, red wine and hands it to me. “What’s it to you?”
I lock eyes with Rossi, staring into his beady eyes as I take the glass. “You’re going to be my first, and then I’ll never see you again? Not very gentlemanly of you.”
“Oh, pet. So sweet. But best not to get attached. LaRoe girls are meant to be shared.”
I can’t believe he ate that up. But he’s still not talking. Time to try a different angle. “I’ve heard of the Accardis, actually. Madam almost gave my first time to a bidder with that name…” I snap my fingers in succession… “His first name escapes me. Maybe it was the one you were talking about?”
“Luca called asking for you?”
There it is. A lightning bolt shoots through my veins. After all this time, the devil reappears. The man who actually took my virginity. No…stole.
“Yes, that sounds familiar,” I say, nodding. “But you must’ve been more persuasive, because Madam decided to make my first appointment with you.”
Rossi takes my wineglass and sets it down on the cart, and then his hand is around my throat. “Too many questions,” he growls, squeezing my windpipe tightly. “Who the hell are you? No way in hell Luca Accardi would ever call LaRoe. You’re his spy, aren’t you?” His voice grows shaky, and his cheeks puff up, looking like ripe tomatoes. “ You’re spying on me. ”
I try to gasp as he squeezes harder, starving me of air. Now I’m pissed.
“No matter, I’m taking what I paid for,” he growls. He releases my throat, moving his hand to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Using his free hand, he rips open the top buttons of my coat. For a millisecond he pauses, eyes fixed on my white lace bra. Then, he’s undoing his belt. He pushes down his pants and boxers hastily, exposing his cock. His grip tightens as he guides me to my knees. “Open your mouth, whore.”
His tip touches my cheek when I hear the ping of his phone, still resting on the bar cart. It dawns on me, I don’t need Rossi to talk… I just need that text message.
I reach up, grabbing the wine bottle and shattering it on the cart’s edge in one smooth motion. Before Rossi can comprehend what’s happening, the sharp edges of the broken glass bottle are wedged right through his crotch. He wails in misery, dropping to his knees. Blood spews violently from his upper thigh, coating my neck and chest.
Oh, no.
It was an accident. I must’ve severed his femoral artery. Based on the way he’s bleeding, he has mere minutes.
“You bitch …you crazy fucking bitch… Roy!” he screams, calling for his bodyguard. “Roy!”
But his bodyguard is gone, and these rooms are as good as soundproof. He falls to the floor, curled up in the fetal position, now resting in a pool of his blood. His whimpers grow silent. I wait until his body is completely still and yank off my trench coat to cover his exposed, limp cock. Die with dignity, Rossi.
I have a pang of guilt. When I first joined PALADIN, I’d get a certain adrenaline rush knowing I took an evil man’s life. Permission to kill is a liberation like no one can explain. But after almost ten years, I’m tired. I’ve put so many rapists, terrorists, and murderers in the ground, but it doesn’t soothe the gnawing ache of redemption. Why couldn’t I be this lethal the day my father and my sister were murdered? Why couldn’t I save them?
I exhale heavily, dropping to my knees next to Rossi. I brush the hair out of his eyes, then close his eyelids. He’ll get another chance. Another life where, hopefully, he’s a better man. Pulling myself up by the edge of the cart, I check Rossi’s phone. There’s a text…but not the one I was hoping for.
Roy
I’m assuming you want extra time with this one? Permission to find my own company for the evening?
No! Dammit. Where’s Luca’s location?
I check Rossi’s call log and redial the last number. “ Your call cannot be completed. The number you dialed is no longer in service…”
I squeeze the phone tightly in my fist. A burner. Probably untraceable. Maybe I could bring it back to headquarters and have tech work their magic, but then Vesper would inquire. How would I explain myself? I promised her I’d let Luca Accardi go. The past is the past. I have a new family now…
But it still aches. I was robbed of the life I should’ve had. I’m craving a quiet life. Just peace. And I am more than certain I’ll never have it while Luca Accardi is still breathing. I fetch my own phone and text Lance as I scour the gory-looking scene. Oh, hell. This is not how it was supposed to go.
Me
I’m okay, but we have a small problem.
Wait, I undersold that.
Big problem…big mess. I need you to come back here.
I slump on the couch, burying my face in my hands. My cheek is still caked with drying blood. I do my best to mop it off with the back of my hand. It’s no use. I’m going to need a thorough shower.
Lance
Unlock the door. I’m on my way.
I stand, making my way to the door. The moment I undo the deadbolt, the handle turns. Lance’s smile fades when he sees me.
“Your blood?” he asks, his brows furrowing with concern.
“No.” I nod over my shoulder to Rossi’s limp body on the ground. “Things got out of hand.”
He places his hands on my shoulders and guides me backward two steps, shutting the door behind us with his heel. “You okay?”
I lock on to his soft, light eyes. “Yes.”
He smirks. “Really, because you look like the last twenty minutes of Carrie. ”
“I look like who?” I ask, confused.
“Carrie,” he reiterates, staring at me like I’m confused. “After prom.”
“What?”
He palms his forehead. “It’s been years , Cricket. Watch the damn movies. I gave you a list for educational purposes, but you haven’t watched even one.”
“I watched Shawshank Redemption ,” I insist.
“No, no. ” He shakes his head adamantly. “You don’t get credit for that. You ate a jumbo bowl of popcorn, complained your stomach hurt, and then you passed out on the couch.”
That sounds vaguely familiar. “Fine, then. I was awake for Forrest Gump .”
“Nope,” he says again. “You played Candy Crush through the entire movie. At the end, you asked me where that little boy came from. You were zero percent helpful with the trivia questions when I took us to Bubba Gump’s Shrimp factory in Fort Lauderdale.”
“When the hell were we in Florida?”
“It was after you sniped that Night Stalker copycat serial killer who collected scrunchies. You probably don’t remember. You discovered Long Island Iced Teas that day and got a little sloppy, if I’m being honest. Your karaoke rendition of Adele’s ‘Hometown Glory’ sounded like a tortured cat.”
I deadpan. “Anyway, what’s your point, Lance?”
“You say you’re trying to become more American; I gave you a list of American things.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I said I wanted to sound more American. Not be more American. And, anyway, it worked. My accent is hardly existent now.”
He stares at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “You can’t possibly believe that.”
“Lance,” I grunt and clap my hands in front of his face. “Focus. We have bigger problems. I was supposed to put two bullets in Rossi’s head to look like a Conti assassination. Instead, there’s a broken wine bottle wedged into his cock.”
Lance’s jaw drops as he covers his jewels with two hands. “You’re an animal.”
I throw my head back and laugh, and when I meet Lance’s eyes again, they are suddenly cold and angry. His lips are pressed together in a hard line. “Your neck,” he says. Closing the space between us, he runs his thumb ever so gently over my throat. He seems to be tracing a pattern. There must be a handprint on my neck from where Rossi choked me.
Lance grabs the gun strapped to my inner thigh. He stands over Rossi’s dead body and plants two bullets in his forehead, side by side, with expert precision.
“There.” He hands my pistol back. “Problem solved.”
“Was that necessary?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
He’s staring at my throat. “Why do you let it go this far, Cricket? One day, you’re going to get yourself killed,” he mutters.
It’s that look on his face. It keeps tripping me up. From the moment I met Lance, I knew exactly what he was. Sexy, smooth-talking playboy who saw more pussy in a month than most men did in their lifetime. But when he looks at me like this, I don’t recognize him.
“I can handle myself,” I say.
His eyes look like gray-blue steel. “I know,” he says, lips barely moving. “But humor me. Next time a man grabs you like that—”
“Shove a wine bottle through his dick?” I bat my eyelashes.
“Something like that.” He gives me a once-over.
It’s not lost on me that his eyes linger on my chest. The lace of my bra doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Normally, this doesn’t faze Lance. But when he notices I’m watching his eyes, he flushes and looks up at the ceiling.
“I’ll text Vesper to send in NYPD to collect his body.” I head toward my phone, but Lance beats me to it.
“Let’s give the girls here some time to scatter. It’s NYPD, so even with a dead body in the back, they are still probably going to fixate on citations for prostitution.” He rolls his eyes. “Priorities, you know?”
“Fair point.”
“I’d say let’s grab a bite, but you’re in desperate need of a shower. How about we find a place to sleep and then order in.”
I collect my coat from Rossi’s body. It’s dark enough and hides most of the blood stains, so I wrap it around my body and fasten the tie. “I actually booked us two rooms at the Delgado. Online check-in, so no need to stop at the front desk.”
Lance’s lips meld into a tight smile as he raises one brow. “You booked two rooms at a hotel?”
“It’s discreet. There’s a service elevator we can use if we enter through the back of the building.” Lance is far more paranoid about being spotted. Probably because he’s slept with a lot of devious women whose husbands have his head on a target board.
“No, I mean, you booked two rooms? Since when don’t we stay together?”
Since we kissed and things got weird. But telling Lance that would only make things more awkward, so instead, I say, “I thought you might want privacy in case you drummed up some company for tonight.” I pump my eyebrows at him. “Lots of beautiful women here.”
“Really? I only see one.”
I blink, lost for words.
“What?” he asks.
“Are you implying I’m beautiful?”
He runs his finger against his lips, looking wildly uncomfortable. “I mean…I’ve said that to you before.”
“No, you haven’t,” I insist. “I think you called me a cock tease a time or two.”
“ Shit,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to—”
I grumble. “Lance, relax. I took it as a compliment.”
“Yeah, but… It was before—”
He stops talking abruptly. His eyes shift left, then right, like he’s trying to read the pages of his own thoughts. I tuck my hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Dammit. Lance is my best friend. This has to stop being so weird. I need my best friend back.
“So…let’s go?” My voice comes out like a squeak, cutting through the uncomfortable silence.
“Know what?” He blows out a breath. “Fuck it.” Suddenly, his hand is on the small of my back, and he’s pulling me closer to him.
“What’re you doing?” I ask in a whisper, but I don’t pull away when he ducks his head, his cheek barely an inch away from mine.
“The truth is, I’m pretty sure a woman dosed me at the bar. My head is fuzzy.”
Pulling away, I laugh in relief. Oh, that’s what it is. “Drunk, horny Lance. Lovely. Come on, then, lover boy, let’s get you to bed.” I brush past him, eyes fixed on the door, but he catches my hand and gently pulls me right back into his embrace.
“That kiss a while back…”
My heart knocks hard, goose bumps on my skin rising. “The kiss we’re not talking about—”
“Yeah, changed my mind. I want to talk about it.”
“Lance—”
“Remember what you told me nine years ago? I’d just joined PALADIN and knew you for barely a week when I asked you out.” He weaves his fingers between mine, still gripping my hand tightly.
I hold his gaze, trying to keep my hand steady. “I told you…” I wet my lips, trailing off.
“Go ahead,” he encourages. “I know you remember. Told me what?”
“I told you that we were—”
“Endgame,” he finishes for me. “That I couldn’t touch you until I was ready for my last.”
I shake my head. “We were teenagers. I didn’t know what I was saying. It was just…” I trail off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
I can’t say it was untrue. They weren’t just words. I meant it. When Lance was ready to fall in love, I knew I’d fall right back. Probably even harder. That’s what happens when you meet your twin flame. Only one of you needs a tiny spark for you both to catch fire.
He nods before bringing the back of my hand to his lips. “I’m ready.”
“For what?” I ask.
“I started thinking about it when Linc found Eden. His whole perspective changed. He was suddenly happy, or as happy as that grumpy brute can be. It’s like he finally had something to live for. His days were less dreary. I never felt that way after joining the team. I love my life with PALADIN. The sun shines every day for me…but it suddenly dawned on me it wasn’t because I had PALADIN.” He runs his thumb against my cheek. “All this time, I had you. It took a purple love spell drink laced with Romani drugs, but I get it now.”
“Huh?” I squint at him.
“Nothing. Never mind, the point is… Cricket, I love you. I always have.”
My bottom lip starts quivering, so I have to clamp my mouth shut to compose myself. After a deep breath, I grumble out loud, “What the hell, Lance? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
His eyes pop open wide. “What did I do?”
“You crossed the line. Everything’s changed. You said you love me . We can’t go back now.”
“Good. I have no intention of going back.”
I stand there looking stupid, my jaw dropped like I’m incredulous. Yet, I’m still holding his hand. I’m squeezing even tighter, actually.
“How do you feel?” he finally asks.
“Like you’re fucking crazy.”
He scowls until he sees me chuckling. “So, I tell you I love you, and you respond with ‘you’re fucking crazy.’ Lovely. We need to work on your pillow talk.”
“All this time together, and you choose now? Here? Like this? I’m covered in blood, and we have an audience.” I nod over my shoulder at Rossi.
He shrugs. “When you know, you know. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”
I exhale as my thoughts flurry around in my head. What does this mean? Where do we go from here? I want to ask all the questions, but instead the only thing that pops out is, “Say it again.”
“I love you, Cricket.” He happily complies.
But I shake my head. “Say it again…using my real name.”
Lance closes what little space is left between us and presses his lips against my forehead. “I love you, Fiona O’Leary.” He smirks. “Wait, I can do it again in an Irish accent if you’d like?” He clears his throat, preparing to do what I’m sure is a horrendous impression of my people. I hold up my palm.
“Please don’t ruin this.” I try to look annoyed, but I can’t help but laugh, feeling full and warm and breathing out in relief. For a while, I doubted it. I didn’t think love existed for a woman like me. I may have an appealing exterior, but my soul is twisted and scarred. The anger that still brews has poisoned my insides. My body is numb, but my heart is still so tender. Sex is just an act. But love?...
That’s a different game. Am I still worthy of love?
Apparently, Lance thinks so. He knows me better than anyone—all the dark, twisty pieces. And he still loves me…
“One room tonight, then,” I say.
“Attagirl.” He winks. “Come on.”
He leads me toward the door, hand in hand, when I hear a sharp chime coming from the bar cart. “Lance, wait.”
I double back to Rossi’s phone, my heart swelling and pumping with adrenaline.
The glowing screen displays a text message from a random number.
292-555-0786
Just got word. Luca Accardi’s flight lands at 10:03 p.m. tomorrow.
Private airfield just outside the city. I’ll send the address.
It’s a risk, but I text back. I know this isn’t a question Rossi would ask, but I need more intel.
Rossi
Why a private airfield? Is he wanted in this country?
292-555-0786
Security. His family will be with him.
Rossi
His brothers and father?
292-555-0786
No. His wife and two daughters.
Two daughters to witness their father slain right before their eyes? What poetic fucking justice.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
I whip around to face Lance, giving him a teasing smile. “Did you just call me ‘baby’?”
“Yeah… I’m trying it out.” He shows me a sheepish smile. “What do you think?”
I smirk. “I’ll get used to it.”
He holds his hand out for me. I quickly tuck Rossi’s phone into my coat pocket. Lance doesn’t bother asking about it. Threading my fingers through his again, I’m so elated, I could practically skip.
My best friend just told me he loved me.
I love him, too.
And after ten long years, I finally have my chance to avenge my family.