Fire Bound

  "They must be a terrifying bunch riding motorcycles down a highway. I'd think seasoned criminals would be afraid of your brother, let alone seventeen more just like him."

  He glanced at her again. Worried. "He would never hurt you or your sisters. You're married to me. Your sisters are married to his brothers. That makes you all family. That means something to us. It also means something to the men he travels with. Viktor wouldn't be with them unless they have the same values he has."

  Lissa sighed. Shook her head. "You don't see it, Casimir, because he's your brother, but he's absolutely terrifying. I can't imagine him with Blythe. I just can't. He's not going to be sweet to her like Gavriil is to Lexi. Gavriil's dangerous and scary to the rest of the world, but to her - and us - he's different. I can pretty much guarantee your Viktor has had a lifetime of telling everyone around him what to do and they jump to do it."

  Casimir shook his head. "The men surrounding him, the ones taking his back, if they came out of that school, they're anything but 'yes' men. They'll be every bit as lethal as Viktor."

  "I hope he doesn't expect them all to live on the farm. We'll have to add ten more properties, ones with hundreds of acres," she said, giving him a little sniff. And her chin.

  "You give me that chin, malyshka, and I get this instant need to lean over and bite it. Don't tempt me when I'm driving."

  Her gaze jumped to his face. She couldn't help the little surge of heat rushing through her veins the moment he talked to her in that low, sexy voice. God. He was beautiful. Now that she saw him, she would always see Casimir under Tomasso or Steve, or any of the other roles he assumed. "My Casimir," she murmured.

  His face softened. His eyes were warm when he took them off the road long enough to glance at her. That meant something to him. She could see it on his face. He was like Gavriil, showing one thing to the rest of the world and giving her his best. She hoped his brother was the same, but she was a good judge of character, and sometimes, when one lived too long in a violent world, having to be part of it, fitting in and taking on those roles, there was no way to get out. Viktor had lived in that violent world from the time he was a boy. Still...

  "I'll give him a chance," she promised.

  "Thank you, Giacinta."

  Again, his voice made her shiver. That meant something to him too, something big. "He's yours, Casimir," she replied. "That means he's mine as well." She meant that. She had no idea what any of them were going to do with Viktor and his seventeen motorcycle-riding badass assassins, but family was family and they would deal. Whether or not Viktor could have Blythe was another matter altogether.

  "I don't like this plan," Casimir said, indicating the blueprints in her lap.

  "I know, honey, you've mentioned that about, oh, I don't know, a thousand times." Lissa tried not to feel exasperated, but truthfully she was. Casimir was being overprotective. If he weren't with her, she wouldn't be getting an argument. "I've done this before." She tried to pull her hand out from under his.

  He heard the irritation in her voice. How could he not? She tried to hide it, but he was so tuned to her, the slightest inflection would tip him off.

  His fingers tightened over hers, preventing her from taking her hand back. He pressed her palm even tighter against his thigh. "You don't have physical contact with your target, not as a rule. You'll only have one shot at this. He's got two bodyguards in close proximity, and if you miss, you won't get a second chance."

  "We've gone over this a hundred times, Casimir," she said. "There's no point in going over it again. I've already rigged the doorbell. Lydia always has a drink before Aldo gets there. Always. She's had that little glass of wine for years. I've researched her thoroughly myself. She's an innocent in this. She genuinely loves him. I'll have no trouble putting the sedative in her wine. She'll be asleep only a few minutes. It will give me enough time to do the job."

  He swore in Russian. "Too many things can go wrong."

  "I know that. Timing is everything, but it is with any job. This is our only shot at getting to Aldo. It's tight but doable. The fountain in Lydia's alcove has been prepared. You did that yourself. I dealt with the doorbell."

  "You weigh a hundred pounds, Giacinta," he snapped. "Aldo is five foot ten and weighs in at two hundred pounds."

  "I don't miss." She didn't blame him for being worried. How could she? It was a life-or-death situation. She'd be worried if the situations were reversed.

  "You're everything to me, golubushka, everything. If something goes wrong, I can't get to you. Not in time. I can take out the bodyguards, but not him. I won't be able to get to him before he can kill you."

  The raw pain in his voice was nearly her undoing. Usually she took out her targets from a distance, an accident, not a sniper rifle. No one had ever questioned the accidents she'd arranged. Never. Not once. She was careful. She didn't care if her target knew an Abbracciabene had exacted retribution for the crimes committed. That had never mattered to her until she'd spoken to Cosmos Agosto, and that had been only because she was there - close. She only really cared that justice was served in the end.

  They could kill Aldo with a sniper rifle. Casimir was a crack shot. That would leave a trail. A faint one, but a trail nevertheless. She didn't want the Porcelli family coming after her or anyone she loved. That type of circle was endless. Her way, no one would ever suspect Aldo's death was anything but an accident. A tragic, senseless one, but still an accident.

  She wanted to take away the worry etched so deep in Casimir's face, but she couldn't risk her sisters, or for that matter, his brothers. She leaned toward him. "Baby," she said softly. "I can do this. I swear to you, I can do this."

  He was silent, slowing the vehicle as he turned into the parking garage. "I know you can, but I don't like you having to do it," he finally said.

  She let her breath out on a note of relief. He wasn't going to keep at her. They'd covered every inch of the parking garage. Aldo didn't have his men park in the same spot when he came, but he always parked on the second floor, not wanting to deal with a flight of stairs.

  Lissa took off her seat belt and leaned across the seat to kiss Casimir. The moment she did, his arms went around her, yanking her so hard she fell into him. One hand anchored at the nape of her neck and the other remained an iron bar across her back. His mouth moved on hers.

  No one kissed like Casimir. She loved his kisses. Deep and hard. Gentle and sweet. A mixture of both. It didn't matter. Every single time his mouth was on hers, her heart stuttered, butterflies took wing in her stomach, little darts of fire went from her nipples straight to her clit and she went instantly damp, so ready for him she often wanted to yank down his trousers so she could sit on his lap and ride him. Just like now. Right there. In the car.

  "I've got to go," she murmured against his mouth. So hot. So perfect. She loved that his lips could be soft and firm at the same time. She especially loved the way he generated heat.

  "I know. Be safe, Giacinta. You make a mistake and I'm going to be angry with you. You won't like me angry."

  She kissed the corner of his mouth and left a trail of kisses along his strong jaw. "I can do this," she reiterated. "Don't worry." She sat back in her seat and slid on the cap that would cover the very expensive black wig that held human hair, but would never identify the owner.

  She wore a tight one-piece catsuit and soft, crepe-soled ballet slippers on her feet. As a precaution, they'd disabled the dome light in the rented car so when she opened the door and slipped out, no light came on. The parking garage was dimly lit, and she slid into the shadows immediately, making her way to the entry point - the small grate covering the ventilation shaft. Deftly, she dealt with the screws - Casimir had already loosened them on their last trip. Only two screws held the screen in place, and she had them out in less than a second. She slipped inside, pulling the grate closed after her. Casimir slid the screws in and continued on his way, up the stairs, to get into position just in case he needed to cover her escape.


  The shaft was very small. There was no way Casimir could crawl through it, his shoulders were far too wide. As it was, she had to scoot on her belly, propelling herself forward by using her toes and hands, slithering like a snake. She inched her way, taking her time, careful not to make any noise. She knew the route, she'd done it physically twice, but a hundred other times in her head, following the blueprint.

  It took time to make it to the second floor and then to Lydia's apartment. Lydia had her own ritual before Aldo came over. She'd told Aldo and once, when Aldo had been drinking, he'd told Luigi. He thought it was sweet that she always spent half an hour soaking in strawberry-scented water because he loved the fragrance on her and in her hair. She sipped her glass of wine and relaxed in the hot, steamy water, her gel mask covering her eyes and music playing. Aldo had even recorded a list of love songs and given them to her. She told him she played them over and over, and he believed her.

  Lissa believed her as well. Lydia showed every sign of being in love with Aldo. She had pictures of the two of them framed and hung in every room. She dressed carefully for him, always made herself available, and she never threatened him, not once, according to Luigi. Luigi, having married Angeline, had managed to insert himself into Aldo's life and confidence.

  Aldo had told Luigi time and again that Lydia was content to be his mistress as long as she got to see him and stay in his life. There was no evidence that Lydia had ever cheated on him. Aldo once had arranged for a friend to ask her out. A very handsome, wealthy friend. She had refused and later, told Aldo of the incident.

  Lissa scooted down the shaft until she came to the grate covering the opening in the ceiling just over the toilet. At least the setup of the master bath was conducive to her entry. The door to the toilet area was kept closed, at least it had been the two times Lissa had made her dry run. It was now and Lissa could hear the occasional splash of water as Lydia moved in the bathtub.

  Opening the grate carefully, she lowered herself to the toilet seat and then stepped off to the floor. Her crepe-soled slippers didn't make a sound as she crossed to the door and inched it open. Lydia lay in the deep tub, head back, mask covering her eyes, earbuds in her ears, one arm stretched out, fingers closed around the stem of a nearly full wineglass. One finger kept time to the music. Lydia sighed contentedly, lifted the glass to her lips without removing the mask and replaced it, unerringly. Clearly she'd done this ritual many, many times and didn't need sight to place her glass.

  Lissa didn't hesitate, but moved across the floor to the edge of the tub as Lydia lifted the wineglass to her mouth and took a small sip. The moment she replaced it, Lissa dumped the small vial of liquid into the wine and was already back across the room and behind the door again before Lydia took another sip.

  It was a little more difficult to get back up into the shaft than to get down out of it. Still, she made it on the first try. Phase one complete, she reported to Casimir as she replaced the grate. I'm making my way to the bedroom to make certain she lies down. It should only be another ten minutes or so.

  So far, no sign of the target. I'm in place.

  He shouldn't be here for another twenty minutes. I'll need that time to get to the alcove just outside her apartment. That was the number one thing they had no control over that could mess up their plan. Aldo couldn't arrive early. Any number of other factors could make the job difficult, but if he came early, she wouldn't have a chance to get to him. What mattered to her more than killing Aldo Porcelli was making certain Lydia wasn't a witness to anything that might get her harmed.

  Lissa took several deep breaths and waited while the minutes ticked by. Sounds came from the bathroom, water draining from the tub, Lydia standing, walking across the floor, the bedroom door opening. Lissa saw her then, wrapped in a large, fluffy towel the color of peaches, her hair still up on her head, mostly finished wine in her hand as she made her way, yawning, to the bed. She drank the last gulp of wine, set the glass on the stand and lay down.

  "Just for a minute," she murmured softly to herself.

  Lissa scooted back. There was no turning around, so she had to carefully, without making a sound, ease herself back down the shaft to the next branch that led to the alcove. She's lying down to rest. Should be out in another minute or so. I'm on the move.

  All right, malyshka, still no sign of him.

  She appreciated that Casimir's voice was confident and matter-of-fact now that their plan - her plan - was under way. He didn't like it, but once her mind was made up, he'd stopped fighting her and instantly went into work mode. Taking her back. In all the years she'd worked with her uncle, even when she was only fifteen and sixteen, Luigi had never once taken her back. For that matter, neither had Arturo. Luigi had pretended to be ill, disappearing into his wing of the house. Arturo had needed to be seen in a public place. She'd taken buses. That had been when Patrice was born.

  They had removed the grate the day before and it was still off. In the deepest shadow, it was impossible to notice unless one was looking for it. The shaft was located above and came in on the same side where the doorbell was. She glanced at her watch.

  The alcove was lit by the fountain. It was made of marble and stood right in the center, a freestanding rather beautiful fountain. Water burst from the spouts and rained down in a series of colors. It splashed down the layers, little mini waterfalls that eventually ended up in a circular narrow ring around the fountain itself. The colors of the fountain lit the alcove, and the water sounded peaceful and soothing. Aldo had bought the fountain for Lydia because she loved water so much.

  Lissa liked it because the sound of the water would hopefully cover any sounds made when she revealed herself.

  Target's vehicle just pulled in. Target is out and heading up the stairs, one bodyguard moving ahead of him fast, and another behind him.

  Her heart jumped and then settled into a natural rhythm. She kept breathing, slow and even. The bodyguard came first, checking out the alcove, waving his boss forward while he proceeded down the hall. The second bodyguard had stopped just at the top of the stairs, guarding the door to the stairway. With a guard on either side of the hall, no one would get past them to cause their boss harm.

  Aldo came next, a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He stepped into the recess of the alcove and instantly was out of sight of his bodyguards. Lissa took a deep breath. Held it. Timing was everything. Aldo jabbed his finger on the button to ring the bell. Instantly it shorted, shocking him, creating a blackened circle on the surface. He jumped back and as he did, Lissa exploded out of the shaft, slamming her head into his chest, driving him backward toward the fountain. Her hands caught his head and, using her weight and momentum, slammed his skull into the already broken and jagged fountain.

  Flowers fell to the floor. Aldo's body slid down the marble slowly, a dead weight. She went with it, reaching to feel his pulse. The spike of rebar exposed by the earlier break had gone into the back of his neck and his head had hit hard on the marble, shattering his skull. He was dead before he slid to the floor.

  Lissa was up instantly, turning and leaping for the shaft, dragging herself inside and refitting the grate. It took precious seconds to slide the screws in using a special tool she'd made just for such jobs, a tool that could reach through small holes and do the work quickly.

  Target down. I'm on my way out.

  The drop of the body had made noise. She knew that it would. The bodyguards might have heard it over the fountain, so she wanted to move quickly and get to the parking garage on the first floor and get out of there before his body was discovered. She especially wanted Casimir out of there. Even looking like Steve from Philadelphia, he would come under suspicion. The bodyguards would be suspicious of anyone, but especially a man.

  Aldo Porcelli was the head of a very large crime organization. No one would rule out foul play until they absolutely had to. It was a bizarre accident, and that was what made it so believable. She scooted faster, still taking care not to make a soun
d. She was past the second-story garage and on the main floor when she heard the scream. A high-pitched wail of pure grief. She knew that sound. She'd made it as a child when Porcelli's men had killed her family. She closed her eyes briefly, but kept moving fast.

  Roving bodyguard and the one by the car have been called upstairs, Casimir reported.

  Again he sounded matter-of-fact, not in the least anxious. He didn't ask where she was, or how long she was going to be, but, like her, he was on the move, she could tell by his voice. She had only a short distance to go and she kept up her slow, steady pace, making certain not to make even the smallest noise. The wailing continued and it was loud enough to draw out other residents.

  Lissa made it to the grate and found Casimir had already removed it. She slid out, turned and lifted the cover, turning the small screws with her little tool almost in one motion. Casimir had the car right next to her, running, door open when she looked up. She dove in and removed her cap, allowing the black hair to fall around her face. She had drawn up a long, lacy black flowing skirt, scattered with bright flowers and removed her crepe shoes before they hit the street. The little ballet slippers went into her small purse and she put on boots. They were knee-high, black and had false laces up the front and a ruffle down the back. The zippers were on the side.

  "Seat belt," Casimir clipped.

  She glared at him. "The stop is right up the street."

  "Seat belt," he snapped again.

  She looked up at his face. Grim. Holding it together by a thread. That didn't bode well for their job in St. Petersburg. She had to be the one exposing herself to danger there as well. She hadn't sought the Sorbacovs out - although she'd made certain she was written up in their papers repeatedly. They'd taken the bait and contacted her. She'd taken their bait and replied. She sighed, snapped the belt in place and allowed herself a deep breath.