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Rafael
New York. It’s cold and hectic in a conformed way. Men and women hurry down the sidewalks in their suits, phones pressed to their ears. Stepping out of the car, I glance up at the sleek skyscraper stretching towards the midnight blue sky, lit up like a beacon. The low rumble of the subway echoes through the grates beneath my feet, sending a whoosh of foul smelling air whirling around me.
I don’t want to be here. The urge to fly to Russia is eating away at me, but I know it’s pointless without a plan. I hate knowing that she’s there, and I’m here.
As soon as we step inside the building, a guy jerks his head at us, pressing the button for an elevator. There’re no buttons for any floors, and the numbers keep ticking by until we reach the top. Of course, Nero would live in the penthouse.
The doors glide open, and the sight of several guns pointed at us greets us.
“Let them in,” a voice shouts from somewhere. The guns drop, and the two guys step back, allowing us into the penthouse. Nero strides across the lobby, his expression tight. The guy looks more like a fashion model than a mafia boss, but he’s not to be underestimated.
“Nero.”
“Rafael. This is Gio and Jackson.” He points to the two guys with the guns, both steely and Italian-looking.
I nod. “Carlos and Samuel.”
“Ivanov called Una. He wants a trade.”
“Of what?”
Nero pinches the bridge of his nose, stress lines sinking into the corners of his eyes. “Una for Anna.”
I can see in his eyes, that’s not a trade he’s willing to make. “I’ll go after the Russian myself if I have to,” I say.
Nero laughs. “And you would die. This guy…” He shakes his head. “Whatever you’ve heard or think you know, it’s so much worse.”
I catch sight of movement behind Nero just as Gio mumbles under his breath. “Ah, shit.” A tiny little blonde woman steps around Nero, springs off the floor and lands in front of me, driving her fist into my jaw. The blow snaps my head to the side and leaves me reeling. Jesus. Samuel must have reached for his gun because when I look up, she has a gun pointed at his head and pure murder in her violet-colored eyes. She looks just like Anna, but harder, vicious, ruthless in a way Anna could never be. This would be Una then.
“I will shoot your worthless, sack of shit ass where you stand,” she says.
I rub my jaw, glancing at Nero. “She always like this?” He shrugs one shoulder before shifting to stand beside her. His hand glides around her waist, coming to rest on her stomach. And it’s then that I notice the bump stretching the material of her black hoody. She’s pregnant. My eyes snap from her stomach to Nero’s face. He’s watching me intently. Well, no wonder he was so keen to get her back.
“They’re here to help,” Nero says.
“Loco puta,” Sam mumbles. Idiot. She pistol-whips him across the bridge of his nose without ever taking her eyes off me. Sam groans and clutches his broken nose. Nero clears his throat to cover a laugh.
“You lost my sister,” she snarls through gritted teeth.
I swipe a hand over my face. “Do not think that I take this lightly. The Russians shot three of my men.” I stare back at her, refusing to back down. We both have a lot at stake here, in the form of Anna, but honestly, if it weren’t for her sister, Anna never would have been in any danger. This isn’t about me. It’s about Una.
“I don’t give a fuck about your men! You promised me she was safe with you.”
“She was heavily guarded, and in one of my houses that only my closest men know about.”
“Well then, it looks like one of your closest men is a rat, Rafael,” she growls, glaring at Samuel and Carlos.
“One of the men who was shot was my brother,” Carlos says.
“I. Don’t. Care. If I were you, my only concern would be the fact that my sister is gone.” She says to him. I place a hand on his arm to stop him from moving. “Do you know who I am?" she asks quietly, stepping up to him until they’re toe-to-toe. “If I don’t get her back, I’m going to come to Mexico and end your entire fucking cartel.”
“O-kay…” Nero wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her back against his chest. “They came to help.” She shrugs away from him and paces the length of the room. She’s tiny, but the way she moves screams dangerous. Her feet whisper over the ground, her movements lithe and graceful. I know exactly who she is, and yet it’s so hard to believe that this girl is one of the most lethal and sought after contract killers in the world. Looking at her causes an ache to settle in my chest. Her mannerisms are nothing like Anna’s, but they look so alike. Una’s hair is white blonde to Anna’s golden, and where Anna has sapphire blue eyes, Una’s are the strangest shade of lilac, but the features are the same.
She keeps pacing, and it’s like watching a caged wild animal, waiting for it to snap and rip off a handler’s arm. There’s something rabid and feral about her. Nero is a far braver man than I, to not only blackmail this girl but then fuck her and get her knocked up. I’m starting to question the Italian’s sanity.
Eventually, she whirls around and walks away, crossing the lobby and disappearing through the doorway.
Nero sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m assuming that’s your kid?” I say.
