Point still stood that we were on our own. Even Remocouldn’t access his watch. We both agreed that we needed to keep up with my old man and Mac. Chances were they would collect Romeo, his sons, and all their men at the meet up point. It was safer for all of us to leave at once. Safety in numbers. But if Romeo or any of his sons hadn’t noticed time had frozen on their watches, we were going to be late to the rendezvous point. My old man and Mac shouldn’t have to come back for us.
After Remo gave the men instructions and explained that our communications had been severed, we became even more vigilant as we followed the path my old man and Mac had taken. Every noise, even the squeak or scuttle of a rat or mouse, had us all turning our heads in the direction it had come from. We wore night-vision googles. The halls were pitch black. So were our fatigues. It was so cold, when a heavy breath would leave my mouth, the air would purl in a silver mist.
A shiver stole through me when I thought about my mamma even being in the vicinity of this place. It reeked of decay and death. I didn’t appreciate the route my mind was taking when I thought of that. It brought back too many haunting memories. Nemours had found a way to get to my mamma, and she almost died because of him. My father had decided to go with her if she didn’t survive.
For a second, my mind did its own thing and went in the direction of Sistine. I put myself in Brando Fausti’s shoes like I’d never done before. It felt like I was wearing new skin, and I didn’t fucking like the feel of it. It stood for a man I could never understand. I shook my head, attempting to fling the fucking thought off in the distance, but even so, thoughts of Sistine being the one who was down here had my temperature rising.
Remogave me a look that seemed to mean,all good?The thoughts in my mind were running rampant for some fucking reason, and for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to control them. But physically—all good.I nodded in answer. Maybe he’d noticed the sweat on my brow even though the temperature had to be in the negative. My muscles were tightening, and I could feel the blood pumping through my veins in an insane, hot rush.
Suddenly, I had to get out of the underground and make sure all was good in Venice.
Fuck me sideways.
I knew what was happening deeper than skin, but it was a new feeling I wasn’t used to. I felt like a boat dropping anchor for the first time. My body moved forward, but something was tugging at the furiously pumping organ in the middle of my chest.
Remo lifted his hand.
We all stopped.
A breath later, men swarmed out in front of us.
These were not friendlies.
No fucking surprise.
We knew we weren’t getting out of this search and rescue mission without shedding some blood. The scene might have looked tame when we first arrived, but these motherfuckers were saving the best for last. Their group stood in front of ours. One of their men lit a torch on the wall. The scene came to life with the heat of the flames. Even the rats scattered. I lifted my googles, and so did the rest of the men.
The leader sized up Remo, but ultimately, his eyes landed on mine. We stared at each other. He and I were going to battle. Seemed like I was the chosen one. I grinned. There was something violent between us already.
He grinned back. “Leaving so soon?” he asked in broken English. He was Russian.
“Nah,” I said. “From what I gather, the party is just getting started.”
He cracked his neck like some macho man in a fucking B Grade movie. He said something in Russian, what I assumed to be the equivalent ofattack!Then hell was unleashed in the underground club.
The hall was narrow, but it seemed like we all had enough space to do hand-to-hand combat. Guns were not drawn. Too much of a chance of bullets ricocheting. If it were my grandfather, he could probably catch them in his mouth and spit them back at the enemy, but none of these men seemed to want to get down that way.
Chatty Leader and I circled each other. I had a knife sheathed to my side, but my plan was to break his fucking neck. I could see the intent in his eyes. He had something similar on his mind.
“Not today, Satan,” I said to him.
He lunged at me with an angry grunt, and I dodged. What went from a playful, mocking tone had already turned into outrage in him. That was good. Anger that hot didn’t bode well in a fight. The head had to keep its cool while the body was always on alert.
He came at me again, and this time, I used my elbow to break his nose with a satisfying crunch, but it wasn’t stopping him. If anything, he was growing hotter and hotter by the second. Wilder. He kept coming at me straight on. I kept hitting him in all the right spots.
His nose was swollen, leaking blood and mucus, his lip busted, and blood outlined his teeth. Whenever he snarled at me, he looked like a wild animal.
I wasn’t sure who had taught this fucker how to fight, though. Or who put him in charge. He was fucking sloppy, and only a few minutes in, he was out of breath and out of his mind. Maybe thatwas where his talent lived. He was so feral he scared the other guy. Like being so ugly made some people cute to other people.
I laughed at him, which I knew was pissing him off more. Until he nodded to the silk rose clipped to my tactical belt.
He smiled at me. “You have a whore. I will find her and enjoy fucking her while your cold corpse rots in this underground graveyard. The rats will have a feast.”
I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. His smile was as big as it was when we’d first started dancing. He’d gotten to me, and he knew it.
He gurgled for a second, then started laughing. “I will find her,” he said through the hold I had on his throat. “I will find her, and no force on this earth will be able to stop me from torturing her.” I increased the pressure, and he started to salivate on my hand, his eyes starting to bulge. He was still strong, though, and in this instance, he was keeping his cool.
He reached below his belt and pulled out a knife. I moved to the right just in time for him to cut through my fatigues and find skin. He was trying to stab me between the ribs. Probably trying to puncture my lungs. He was fast on the draw. My hand was still around his throat, but he went at me again. This time, though, his swings were wild, trying to get me to release my hold so he could breathe again. He’d gotten a few swipes in on my arm before I let go.
