Marked For Love (Mob Romance) (14 page)

“
Basta
.” Vicente’s sudden, low hiss caught her completely off guard, his eyes narrow in frustration. “You will
not
. He will torture you, Grace. Slice smaller and smaller parts from you until you don’t even remember what’s missing. You’ll be raped. You’ll be ridiculed, and finally, when you’ve come to believe your torture is unending…
then
you will die.”

Grace thought she might be sick. The very idea was enough to make her want to vomit. However, she did not rise from the bed. She only met Vicente’s incredulous gaze with her own frightened one. “If he wants me,” she repeated, “I’ll go.”

The assassin immediately shot to his feet, raking his hands through his hair in irritation. Turning on his heel, he proceeded to pace, absolutely naked, back and forth across the room several times, his brow deeply furrowed in thought. Unlike the Italian, Grace wasn’t a mind reader, so all she could do was look on as he wore the carpet down, wondering on earth what he was doing.

The toned lines of his behind flexed and released with his stride, and for a moment, despite the situation she was currently faced with, Grace was almost distracted by it. But then, quite suddenly, Vicente came to a halt before her, his gray eyes blazing storm-hued fire.

Reaching over to a chair situated beside the bed, he tossed her the clothes she’d lain there the previous evening. “Get dressed.”

He himself stepped back into his slacks, decent within seconds. Grace’s eyes widened as she stared up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not certain.” He retrieved the cloth duffel bag in which they’d delivered the clothes she’d been provided with and jerked it open before crossing to the dresser. Vicente began pulling handfuls of clothes from the drawers to stuff them into the bag. “Pack only what you need, and do it quietly.” He glanced over his shoulder at her before moving towards the door. “You have five minutes.”

With those words, he disappeared, leaving the young woman completely flummoxed.

Where the hell were they going at four in the morning?

Despite her confusion, she did as Vicente had told her, rushing to dress herself in a pair of jeans and a cream colored sweater. Rushing into the bathroom, she dropped the few toiletries she had into the bag as well before hurrying into the living room as quietly as she could. There, in the darkness, she waited with bated breath for Vicente.

Every minute seemed to last an eternity.

When the man finally emerged from the room next to hers, one bag slung over his shoulder and another clutched in his hand, she breathed a sigh of relief. Vicente positioned his finger over his full mouth, moving carefully past her and towards the doorway.

At that moment, the overhead light flickered on, almost blinding the young woman. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, they widened in horror.

Giovanni stood in front of the door, his blonde hair mussed with sleep. He wore a set of green silk pajamas that matched his eyes, and clutched in his hand was his Beretta. His expression was neutral – wary.

And at that moment, Grace knew their flight had created a rift between the two men – one that could only end in one of their deaths.

**

“Headed out for a stroll, Vicente?”

The assassin cursed his luck.

Giovanni was always most perceptive when it meant the worst for Vicente. Matteo, no doubt, was deeply asleep, but here he and Grace were, blocked by one of the Acconci family’s best fighters.

“Gio, let us pass.” The words were murmured low in his native tongue. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“That is where you are wrong, my friend.” Gio leveled the Beretta at his chest and Grace inhaled sharply behind him. “It has everything to do with
us
. What do you think will happen to Matteo and I if we simply let you go?’

“Nothing. You will simply tell Giorgio that I slipped through your grasp.”

A short, harsh bark of laughter escaped the bulky blonde man. “And he’ll believe us? Giorgio is many things, Vicente, but stupid is not one of them. He knows you and we have known one another since we were in swaddling clothes…how often we work together. Do you really think he’d actually buy such a ridiculous story?”

No, Vicente hadn’t. But he’d held out hope that a conflict between he and Gio wouldn’t come to this. Giovanni was the closest thing Vicente had ever had to a friend. They had killed to protect one another, fought side by side, and watched their comrades die.

Now, he was faced with a difficult decision.

He had to get Grace out of here. Out of Rome and out of Italy - as far from Giorgio’s reach as he could. Though the young woman had explained to him numerous times her father’s lack of empathy for his daughter, Vicente had never believed that he would
actually
refuse to pay. The information was almost as shocking as Grace’s proclamation that she would let Giorgio torture her for Vicente’s sake.

To save his
life.

What had he ever done for this woman besides bring her misery and strife? He had kidnapped her from her home and brought her thousands of miles to a place where she was utterly isolated. He’d taken her body and done his very best to show her how little it meant to him – or at least how little he
wished
it meant.

The fact of the matter was that being with a woman hadn’t inspired anything but contempt in Vicente for a very long time. Grace was like a breath of fresh air - an infusion of life-giving blood. She made him feel anger, desperation, commiseration, where he thought he had forgotten how to do so.

How a woman he had known for only three weeks had such a profound effect on him was beyond even the assassin himself; but what he was sure of was that he could not take her to Giorgio. Not even if it was truly what she wanted.

If he had to watch his stepfather slowly dismember her, he might do something irrational – like attempt to kill the man in front of his own personal army. And that would end well for neither himself nor Grace.

Escape was the only option.

And standing between them and escape was Giovanni

“So, what now, Gio? You kill me here, now? In cold blood?”

The man before him shook his head not in refusal, but denial. “Don’t make me do this, Vicente. Not to you. Is she really worth it? A few courtesy fucks and you’re in over your head?”

The assassin bristled as Grace shifted nervously behind him. She wouldn’t know what they were saying – only that they weren’t being allowed to move forward.

And time was of the essence.

“If you want to stop me, Gio, you’ll have to put a bullet in my head.” He had no more time for games. They had already lost precious minutes here. Vicente knew exactly what Giovanni was capable of. He’d seen the man turn on those who had been like brothers to him on Giorgio’s orders.

His loyalty was unwavering. The question was: was that loyalty enough to out maneuver Vicente?

The choice he made took less than a second.

As Gio began to raise his gun, Vicente drew his own from the hidden holster at his hip and fired three shots, one after the other. One of them struck Gio’s hand, removing two of his fingers and sending the gun clattering to the floor. Another entered the man’s kneecap, crippling him so he dropped to the floor with a groan of discomfort. The third incapacitated his other arm.

Vicente knew his companion well enough to know he could shoot equally well with both hands, and he didn’t want any additional trouble. Within seconds, Gio was bleeding on the floor, his teeth gritted in pain as he stared up at Vicente in disbelief. “
Cazzo vigliacco
.” He spat the words at Vicente’s feet and the dark-man breathed a sigh of relief.

Insults he could take. Perhaps one day Gio would understand why he had to take his life into his own hands, but if he didn’t now, at least Vicente hadn’t had to kill him to prove his desperation.

“Come.” The command was whispered lowly to Grace before Vicente moved past Gio’s broken form and to the door.

In a matter of seconds, they were out and racing down the hallways, intent on leaving Giorgio’s establishment.

Dimly, Vicente recalled how he’d always considered the wee hours of the morning the most dangerous time to be about in Italy. Criminals abounded in the shadows, and those who made up the deepest, sludgiest cesspools of humanity lurked.

But now, barring their running into anyone of import, the dusky dark could very well save their lives.

It took half a day for Vicente to procure all the documents that they needed to leave Italy. Though he had spent twenty years of his life smothered by the weight of his loyalty to his stepfather, he’d also developed contingency plans.

Men like Giorgio Acconci were volatile, and Vicente had spent his years of service wondering if the man was going to snap the next day or a year from when he made his preparations. He had gone outside his stepfather’s realm of influence, even recruiting a number of Acconci family rivals using huge sums of cash.

All to make sure that, when the shit hit the fan, he was ready.

Even so, half of his contacts got word to him before they’d left Rome, telling him they could do nothing for him.

As incapacitated as he had left Gio, it seemed that it hadn’t been enough. His former comrade had already informed Giorgio of his betrayal.

By that evening, Vicente and Grace were on a train to Prague in the Czech Republic. On the way to the station, Vicente saw danger in ever shadow, and could only pray that they lived to escape Italy. He knew his stepfather’s network was a far reaching one, and so their best bet would be to leave the country entirely.

He’d chosen the Czech Republic specifically for their anti-Italian sentiments. Following several bad business dealings over the past few decades, Giorgio had executed a large number of their high ranking gang officials, earning him million dollar contract on his own head. As long as he stayed in Italy, he would remain relatively safe.

Which would make his searching for Vicente beyond the borders of the country more than a little difficult.

The day was exhausting, and Vicente and Grace were well beyond Italy’s borders by the time the assassin finally allowed himself to relax somewhat. He slumped against the chair in the private car they shared, his gaze on the woman seated across from him.

Grace was leaning against the window, her eyes closed as she slumbered through their ten hour ride. She had been remarkable that day. From the moment he’d told her they were leaving, through the tedious, dangerous task of acquiring their paperwork and sneaking around the crowded streets of Rome, she had voiced not one single complaint.

He had expected her to be full of questions – even to be frightened of him after she’d seen what he’d done to Giovanni. While the young woman
had
been shaken, she’d seemed to accept their lot without much protest. Of course, when the alternative was dismemberment by one of the most demented men in Italy, he supposed that flight was a better option by far – even with the risks they were taking.

For a moment, Vicente stared at his charge. He’d barely known her for three weeks and already he’d given up everything he had ever been in order to keep her safe. He had certifiably lost his mind.

He barely knew the girl.

Only that she had been utterly and completely forsaken by a man whose approval she desperately sought. That she had opted to go to her own death rather than risk that of the man who had kidnapped and threatened her life on several occasions. That she felt like a hot, intoxicating vice around him when he was inside her, and he could very well give himself over to what he felt when she bucked back against his frenzied thrusts.

She was like no other woman he' d ever encountered; and even when her life was in grave danger and all the odds were against her, she remained strong.

He admired that. There weren’t many, even in the Acconci family, who could face their fears to the extent that she’d faced hers.

On the run for her life, she slept more soundly than she ever had as a captive. He knew because he had listened to her tossing and turning on most nights from the room adjoining hers.

And now, they were utterly alone.

He was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to take her into his arms – to pull her flush against him and drink from her mouth until every regret, every haunting memory had been wiped from his mind. Such a thing, he knew, would be impossible.

But many things he’d thought impossible had occurred in his life in the past few weeks.

Leaning back, Vicente did his best to calm his urges and relax his mind. They still had a long way to go until Prague; and though he would never attest to having the most tame sexual tendencies, he would not violate Grace in a train car.

Probably.

The fact of the matter was…it might keep him from reflecting on all that he had lost- and the dangers that lie before them