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Gabe marched down the stairs, stepping over Matteo’s unconscious body. The wicked smile on his face was made all the more sinister-looking by the spray of blood that speckled his chest, neck, and face.
“Mission accomplished,fratello,” he said.
“Isabella’s dead.” It wasn’t that I wanted to bring down his high, but there was no sense in delaying it. “There’s a guy out cold in the parlor. Put him in the trunk, then drag Matteo out and put him in the back seat,per favore,” I said, then strode outside.
I turned to look back at the house where I’d spent almost every weekend as a kid. Aunt Isabella had been different then. Younger and more vibrant; she’d been devoted to the family and proud of it. Until the life we lived took her husband and her only son. She’d changed then, swearing off everything to do with the family. Everything but me.
I sighed heavily and tried to ignore the faint squeeze around my cold heart. It clearly attested to Aunt Isabella’s feeble state of mind that the one Costa she’d kept close was the one the rest of the world was wise enough to fear. But whether she’d tried to distance herself from the family name or not, the Costas took care of their own, in life and in death.
I circled the yard to retrieve the large can of fuel from the garden shed. It was full; I’d been meaning to get around to mowing the lawn but hadn’t made it over in a while. Lugging it back around and inside, I set it down next to Isabella’s body.
She had her knitting needles with her, probably the most important of her grave goods. I grabbed a couple of the romance novels from the basket by the chair—the most creased ones—and then leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Grave goods and a kiss of respect for the dead were old traditions. My family had practiced them for decades.
I uncapped the gas can and doused Isabella’s frail body in the accelerant. She would never have wanted her body subjected to an autopsy, and not even Gabe could know about the name carved into her arm.
Not yet.
Not until I had answers.
I withdrew the lighter from my pocket, lit the bottom corner of her satin nightdress, and left without a backward glance. At the door, I could already hear the crackle of the flames, but the house was far enough outside the city; it would be some time before the smoke drew any attention.
Back at the car, Gabe stood outside the passenger door, staring at the house. I could see the orange flames reflected in his eyes.
“It’s what she would have wanted,” I told him before he could ask.
I swallowed down whatever scraps of human emotion Isabella’s death had managed to muster up inside me. I couldn’t afford to be human.
Not now.
I had a job to do. Soon, I’d have to report what I’d found to Lorenzo. If I couldn’t managed to crack open the hostage in the trunk and pull out the truth of who’d sent him by then, what I had to report was going to mean war.
A war that was going to get bloody.
Chapter Two
Raven Ferrari
My muscles were burning.
My lungs were ready to explode.
Sweat dripped from my brow in rivulets.
A fist shot at me. I ducked to my left, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to topple me over. There was no time for weakness. In a blink of an eye, I steadied myself and came back with an uppercut that grazed my attacker’s jaw, but it wasn’t a solid hit.
He came at me again, but I caught his intention by the direction of his eyes just as he pulled back his arm for the next blow.
This is my chance!
The tender flesh of his armpit was exposed. I ignored the blow coming at me and jabbed. He roared as his fist connected with my cheek, but his punch had lost its power thanks to the pain that now radiated down his side and up his arm.Yes!
With my attacker momentarily distracted, I took full advantage; a blow to his ribs, a hard punch to his jaw. His head shot back, throwing off his balance. I leaned away and drew up my leg, ready to send him careening backward.
I kicked, but I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed my ankle and yanked hard, pulling out my other leg from under me and sending me crashing to the ground.
“Damn it!” I roared.
“You’re never going to beat me,” Vito jeered, moving to stand over me with his arms crossed over his chest. The lights above gleamed off his bald head and cast shadows beneath his dark eyes.
