We were sheltered by a bunch of taller trees, but I wanted her over the wall as fast as possible. I also wanted to get a look at whoever it was. It could be men, or it could be a trap, like what happened to Luca Fausti’s property in Florence.
If that was the case, they might catch my great-aunts unaware. The truck might blow up.
“Adesso.” I placed two hands on her behind, rushing her. I had my piece strapped to me, but I wanted her behind the gate.Now.
She must have felt my urgency. She flew up the rungs but stopped when she noticed the drop on the other side. The other ladder was a few feet away.
“Try to keep down,” I said. “Get to the next ladder.”
She nodded, trying to crouch and fast-walk. When we finally got to the other ladder, I held the top while she flew down it. She held it for me as I came down.
By now, if the workers who were around had heard the ringing, they would have started taking the ladders down. It was protocol. They never asked why. But every so often my old man would do it. A drill to keep them sharp.
We ran behind the gate, my hand holding hers. Up ahead, I could see our men, all of them in position, holding guns to the holes and watching the scene unfold from their vantage point.
“I said, what do you WANT?” one of my great aunts was saying to the wall.
A voice with a definite Russian accent spoke out of the rolled-down SUV window. “We are looking for the women who make the chocolate.”
“You are at the wrong place. Go to town.”
Get inside,I signed to Mia.
She went to shake her head, but our eyes locked.
A low whistle came from the direction of the main villa. Scarlett signed Mia’s name, motioning her toward the door. Scarlett stood in the doorway, waiting for her. Mia shook her head and ran toward her mamma a second later.
The stone had small decorative holes in numerous places. Just big enough for a gun with a slim muzzle and an eye right above it. I took position, keeping my piece steady, my eyes trained on the situation.
Our men communicated with hand signals.
Possibly four men in the car,Brando signed to me.
I nodded. No decoy then, but they could still have explosives. No way to tell. I signed that to him. He nodded back.
The world glowed with the setting sun, but it felt as hot as midday. Heat radiated from the ground like a swarm of wasps. Sweat streamed down my skin, and I felt it like I had in the dream. Ice to a skillet. I ran a hand across my head, trying to keep it from stinging my eyes. I refused to move them. Kept my trigger finger ready.
Men in suits stepped out. Four.
That tattoo on their hands. Three small eyes with stars in them.
My old man must have sensed my readiness. He gave me the signal to stop.
Bykov’s men were glancing at each other, not sure what to do. They wanted to find out more but were hesitant. Being in this game, they felt us. Or felt something was off. Old women pretending to be alone—I wouldn’t have bought it. It was the perfect cover. But I could also see the hesitation.What if it wasn’t a cover?That might cause more problems. One could never be sure who the property belonged to. And what if it belonged to a certain kind offamilythat didn’t mind waging war?
There was no way they could have known for sure whether Mia was behind these gates, unless they found out the true identity of my old man. I highly doubted it. They were going on suspicion alone. A slim connection.
“Isaid, you are at the wrong place. No one goes beyond these gates but me and my sisters. That means—NOT YOU!” My great-aunt made sure they heard when she pumped her old shotgun.
They looked at each other, backing up a bit, getting closer to their SUV. But the guy who rode in the front, passenger side, held his hand up. He must have been the shot caller.
“If you are lying to us, woman,” Shot Caller said, his eyes scanning the gate and the wall. “We will hang you up by your feet and slit your throat.”
“And I will use your balls in my sauce and feed them to my enemies. Your mammas.”
The driver went to make a move, but Shot Caller held his hand up.
A bead of sweat dripped down my temple. My finger itched against the trigger.
