"Dario?" he asked, eyes wide, before he was shot in the chest with two tranq darts.
"You better have a good fucking explanation when you wake up," Dario growled. Luca's eyes rolled back, and he was out.
He stepped over the body and swept the small, cluttered living room for anyone else.
"Fred! Status!" he yelled. "Spartana!"
A rapid exchange of shouts, a heavy thud, then the unmistakable sound of a struggle and glass shattering came from upstairs.
"I'm busy!" Frederica's voice called back.
Dario took the stairs two at a time, gun leading. A door to his left stood open, revealing a bedroom. To his right, French doors opened onto a balcony, or what was left of it. The glass was shattered, the frame splintered. Frederica was locked in a brutal, close-quarters struggle with a man on the small balcony.
The man was big, built like a wrestler, with a shaved head and a thick neck. He had Frederica in a bear hug from behind, pinning her arms, trying to crush the breath out of her or throw her over the low balcony railing.
Frederica had her legs braced, heels digging into the wooden balcony floor, resisting his brute strength. She drove a sharp elbow back into his ribs, eliciting a grunt, but he tightened his grip.
"Little… hellcat…" the man rasped before he shifted his weight, trying to lift her off her feet.
Dario grabbed a heavy, wrought-iron curtain rod that had been partially torn from the wall during the fight.
"Hey, asshole!" Dario bellowed, his voice booming in the confined space. "Catch!"
The thug's head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened as he saw Dario, instinctively releasing Frederica and throwing up an arm to shield himself.
Dario feinted a throw, then reversed his grip and rammed the blunt end of the rod like a battering ram straight into the man's solar plexus. The air exploded from the man's lungs in a shocked gasp. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, eyes bulging.
Frederica spun and delivered a beautiful kick to the side of his knee. With a sickeningcrack,the man screamed and collapsed sideways against the already damaged balcony railing. The old, weathered wood groaned, splintered, and gave way entirely under his weight and momentum.
For a horrifying second, he scrabbled wildly, grabbing at empty air. His eyes met Dario's, wide with pure terror, and with a final, despairing cry, he vanished over the edge. A heavy, wetthudechoed in the sudden, ringing silence.
Dario and Frederica stood frozen on the shattered balcony, breathing hard. Below, on the patio stones, the man lay sprawled at an unnatural angle, a dark stain already spreading beneath his shattered skull.
Dario slowly lowered the curtain rod. He looked from the broken railing to the corpse below, then back at Frederica. Her chest was heaving, a thin trickle of blood ran from a split lip, and her eyes burned with a fierce, almost feral light. She met his gaze, unflinching.
Dario gestured down at the messy remains of their intel source with the iron rod still in his hand. A slow, darkly amused grin spread across his face.
"I'm not taking the blame for this," he declared, his voice cutting through the quiet morning air. "That one is totally on you. Luckily, I have a spare downstairs."
"Fuck…you…" she panted. "You get your traitor?"
"Luca is passed out on the floor. Are you going to be okay, or do you need me to carry you?" Dario asked, laughing when Frederica stuck her middle finger up at him.
A minute later, Frederica and Dario stared at the two men on the floor with thoughtful expressions.
"We can put them both in the van, and you can take the Audi on your own if you promise not to scratch it," Dario said. He expected some witty comeback, but when he turned, Frederica was squatting down next to the Falcone man, a strange expression on her face. "What's the matter? Is he an old boyfriend of yours? Here I thought you bit men's heads off after you fucked them, like a praying mantis."
"Funny, but not as funny as it's going to be to watch Rodrigo kick your big ass," she replied. "This guy is dead. The bullet to the leg hit his femoral artery, and he's bled out. Nice one, dickhead, at least mine was an accident."
Dario hurried over and squatted down beside her to check the man himself. "No, he… He shot himself in the leg! I only knocked him out."
"No pulse," Frederica replied, and started to smirk. "I guess we both fucked this one up."
"Shit," Dario muttered. Their eyes locked over the still-cooling body, and after a brief second, they both burst out laughing.
23
It was an hour before dawn when the insistent buzz of Rodrigo's phone jolted him awake. He silenced the phone with a swipe, not wanting the sound to wake Giana on the couch in the other room. Leo had been calling him.
