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"And now you're putting your hand in a hornet's nest for some kid. Brilliant," she replied to her inner monologue. Rafael wasn't some kid anymore. Perhaps the photo she had seen had been flattering. Not that it mattered because he would be happily married with his own little bambini running about.
Bellona had only been good at one thing, and that was war. She would never be able to live a normal life with a normal partner. She knew the truth of that in her bones. She would do what she was good at—keep Rafael safe—and then she would finally get the closure she needed to let him go.
Thirty minutes later, Bellona pulled up on the side of a lane that led to Rafael's villa. It was surrounded by a vineyard, the gardens around the house easily identifiable by the tall poplar trees. Bellona got out of the car and breathed in the cool air. It smelled of rain on the way, turned earth, and citrus from a cluster of lemon trees.
Bellona moved slowly down one of the neat rows of the vines. The first sniper didn't look from his scope until she was sitting on his back and sliding the blade of her pugio into his neck.
She lifted the rifle and looked around the back of the house. Lots of glass windows to make the most of the views.
Bellona's breathing hitched when Rafael's tall figure moved in front of the windows, a drink in his hand. Despite the late hour, he wore black jeans and a white button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He was walking about with no idea how exposed he was. How wasn't he dead already?
"Are you in position?" A voice whispered through the dead man's earpiece. Bellona swung the scope about until she spotted another shooter to the west.
"I can see you," she purred into the comm and then pulled the trigger. When she was satisfied that there was no one left in the fields, she slung the rifle over one shoulder and walked to the house.
The back sliding door lock had been picked already, so Bellona slipped inside like a shadow. She followed the dirty boot prints left on the otherwise pristine cypress pine floors. Someone was humming in the kitchen and pouring wine.
Bellona caught the attacker's knife before it came down on Rafael's neck. She broke the man's wrist as she twisted his arm back and dislocated his shoulder. He was still howling when she snapped his neck, and he dropped to the tiles.
"Gesù Cristo!" Rafael gasped, his hazel eyes going wide as he stared at her.
The photo Bellona had seen hadn't done him any justice at all. He had silver in his dark hair and beard and a few lines around his eyes and forehead, but like fine wine, age had only made him better. There was a fine scar over the bridge of his nose, and she grinned, knowing she was the one who had put it there.
"Your situational awareness is still shit. I thought you getting jumped in a men's bathroom would have taught you a lesson about watching your back," Bellona said.
"It's really you, isn't it?" Rafael's handsome face broke into a smile, turning him from handsome to breathtaking. "Angela della morte."
4
Rafael couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at the dead man on the ground and back to the woman in front of him.
"You haven't changed a bit, angela," he said, fighting the urge to touch her to see if she was real. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling like a gawky teenager in front of her. "Who are you? Really?"
"Bellona," she said in that silky voice. "My name is Bellona."
"Like the goddess of war?"
Bellona nodded. "I am her."
Rafael started to laugh and then stopped when he saw her expression.
"You… You are serious?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, her brows drawing together. "You don't believe me?"
"I believe you have some amazing genetics or excellent doctors to make you appear the same," Rafael answered. He took another wine glass from a cabinet and filled it for her. He turned back around and nearly dropped it. She wore gold and black armor, her eyes shining with divine fire. "Holy fucking gods."
"Goddess," she said, and then, with a shake of blonde hair, the armor vanished, and she was again dressed in black jeans, boots, and a tight T-shirt.
"An actual goddess of war," Rafael gave her the wine before he dropped it. "How the fuck do I have your business card?"
"I'm assuming Michele gave it to you. Your grandfather gave it to him." Bellona sniffed the wine before tasting it. She smiled. "Stop freaking out, Rafael. You know Hades and the Greeks are out in Styx. I would think humans would be getting better with the appearance of gods amongst them."
"I just never expected to have a real goddess in my kitchen," Rafael said. He rubbed the scar on his nose. He had dared to kiss a goddess without permission. No wonder she had head-butted him. He was lucky she hadn't flayed him alive.
Bellona winked at him, and his heart skipped a beat. "It's why my bill is going to be high."
"If you can help me stay alive and figure out what's happening, I'll pay whatever you ask. Do people still offer you their souls, goddess?" he asked.
