“Get on with it,Katana,” I taunted, figuring I had to call her something.
She blinked at the name perhaps acknowledging my words yet made no move to touch me. We stared at each other for whatseemed like an eternity before she leaned forward, bringing her face close to mine. A faint smell of something sweet, a vaguely familiar incense I couldn’t place right now veiled the scent of blood I usually welcomed, tickled my nostrils, begging for recognition. I didn’t give it much thought, my eyes tracing the yin and yang mask, looking for something I couldn’t see before she angled her head until her chin touched my shoulder.
“You’re mine, Remo Rossi,” she whispered in a voice that was as alluring as her mastery with that bloodstained sword.
As her words floated through the various channels in my ear, I didn’t recognize that harsh inhale or the expanding of my lungs, my gaze focused on the swish of the sword in a sharp downward flick, stealing my breath. In the time it took to register there was no ensuing pain, I felt the cuffs on my hands and ankles give way and another moment to realize I was still alive.
Slowly, I rubbed my wrists to get the blood circulation going and glanced behind me. She’d disappeared as soundlessly as she’d appeared.
“You’re mine,”her words spun around my brain in a loop.
Hers in what way? Was she the fucking stalker or someone who wanted me dead? She’d confirmed nothing. Confused why I was still alive; I stood and staggered a little. Woozy, I sat down again, closed my eye until my balance evened out. Rising, slower this time, I reached for my discarded jacket behind the chair. My phone clattered to the floor along with my wallet and watch. Stuffing both in my pants pocket, I switched on the phone and the second the screen flared to life; I dialed my brother.
“Where the fuck are you, Remo?” Lorenzo barked on the second ring. “I got a call?—”
“I need you,” I muttered, knowing it was the only words that would stop his rant. Missing a meeting with the Columbians wasn’t important, we had much bigger problems.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” he replied, his tone softer. “Step on it,” I heard him growl at someone before the call cut out. Aware the tracker he’d installed in my phone, a safety net we both employed years ago, had activated the moment I switched on my phone, I slipped into my jacket, pocketed the device and glanced around.
Body hurting like a bitch, I walked the room slowly, inspecting the bodies. Frowning, I crouched and steadied myself to take a closer look. Each kill was precisely the same. Not a cut out of place. It was as though she knew exactly where to hit. Given the speed of her movements during the fight, I was surprised. This kind of perfection was a rarity.
I stood to fast and groaned as the world tilted.
ten
. . .
Remo– 36 years old
“Jesus, Remo, what the hell happened here.” Gun in hand, Lorenzo walked in exactly twenty minutes later, his gaze trailing over the floor, stopping at each body before coming back to my face, his shock infused disbelief quickly turning into concern. “What the fuck.” He crossed the room to my side as I tried to rise from the spot my aching ass had taken a minute to rest. Grabbing my arm to keep me from falling again, he moved me to the chair. “Are you okay?” Brows pulled together in a deep frown, his eyes tracked my injuries.
“I’m fine.”
“Like fucking hell you are.” Slowly, he shook his head. “You could’ve called for backup,Fratello. They could’ve killed you.”
“Hold the fuck up,” I cursed, noticing Dario and two hefty men following him. “You think I did this?” Lorenzo looked at me as if he’d already written off my denial and holstered his weapon. “Fuck, Renz,” I grunted. “Look at the fucking wounds on these bodies. I’m not a neat fuck when I kill, and you know that. It’s that killer, the one we’re not supposed to know about?”
Frowning, he leaned over to look at the body closest to me then at Dario. “Get him here now.”
Dario retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket, sent a text before he and my brother looked at me, their expressions thoughtful.
I knew what they were thinking. I’d finally lost it. Well, fuck them. Rising, I ground my molars against the pain in my muscles and lowered to a crouch next to the nearest dead fuck. I rolled him onto his stomach, pushed up the frayed edges of his pants, and pointed to the cuts on the back of his ankles. “Done to restrict movement.” I flipped the fucker over, ripped open his shirt and with my eyes on my brother, circled the air above the precision cuts to the where the arms connected to the body. “Done to demobilize their hands. And this.” I gestured to the vertical slit in his throat. “I have no fucking clue what that means.” Still stumped by the killer’s calm when she executed the kill shot and how she’d spoken to each man as she did so, I gave up trying to decipher it’s meaning.
Lorenzo stared at the cuts, his brow creasing. “I’ve seen a lot of wounds over time, the only weapon capable of doing this is a?—”
“Katana,” I referred to the Samurai sword we were familiar with, bringing his eyes back to mine. Blowing out a harsh breath, I stood. Every fucking inch of me hurt with the effort. “Whoever did this, was a perfectionist and so fucking quick it was like watching a movie stuck in fast forward.”
“Are you saying, one person took down all these guys?” Incredulity banded over Lorenzo’s features.
“Yes. She was dressed like a?—”
“She?” he asked. I nodded with a shrug. “What makes you think it was a woman?”
“Even with one eye, I can delineate the curves of a woman, brother.” I smirked. The woman’s sexy figure enhanced by the tight outfit left me curious about her identity.
He glanced over at our dead guys killed in the same way, studied me for a second then voiced the one question I’d already asked myself. “If she took down both sides, why are you still alive?”
“Beats the fuck out of me.” I stroked a hand down my face, wincing when my fingers touched my nose, aware it might be broken. Good thing these fuckers were already dead, or I’d make them choke on their shit. “All I know is one minute, these assholes,” I tried to kick the body nearest to me and failed with a groan. Lorenzo helped me back to the chair as I continued, “were snuffing out my lights, and the next, this figure literally dropped from the roof, the Katanamaking quick work of their ankles. Once they were down?—”
