Marked For Love (Mob Romance) (17 page)

Grace, over the course of almost four weeks, was rapidly convincing him that there was little else he could need when he had a woman who understood him.

Vicente was a very intelligent man. He wouldn’t be alive if he weren’t; and so to foolishly assume that what he felt for Grace and the revelations she afforded him meant that they would never part was out of the question.

What he could do was relish their time together - not as captor and captive, but as equals. In their tiny hostel in the city, they spoke freely of their fears, their desires, and contemplated the uncertainty of their future. They made love, they fucked and everything in between – until for the first time in his life, he wasn’t plagued every moment by the aching needs of his body.

He was quite surprised that Grace could keep up with him. Considering his body was his temple and he spent hours honing it to the state it was in while she’d revealed to him that she was exercise averse, he wouldn’t have expected it. But there were times when the young woman pushed him to the brink of exhaustion – and he relished every moment.

When they lie together in the aftermath, speaking quietly to one another, he could almost forget that he had walked away from the most dangerous man in Italy – that, without a doubt, Giorgio was still hunting them, and probably would until his age caught up with him,

So far, they had been lucky.

Knowing his stepfather as well as he did kept Vicente one step ahead of him. Fleeing to the Czech Republic had almost certainly kept them out of the Don’s hands up until this point, but he had no doubt that soon, Giorgio’s fury would overrule his caution.

Such was often the case, these days.

Vicente patrolled their area of the city three times a day, and when he left Grace alone, it was under lock and key. He had learned, while working for Giorgio, to trust no one – and it was a habit he doubted would ever leave him, even if he never saw the man again. Everyone in the street was a possible spy – their untimely death.

If Vicente were just protecting himself, perhaps he wouldn’t be so on edge. But Grace was relying on him as well. He hadn’t asked her to leave with him – he’d taken her. And as a result, he was now responsible for her.

When the assassin had first laid eyes on the girl, despite his innate attraction for her, he was willing to take her life at a moment’s notice. Now, the thought of anyone laying a finger on her had him bristling with rage. If there was one good thing that had come from his years in service with the Devil of Sicily, it was that he knew his methods.

Giorgio wasn’t going to get to Grace without going directly through Vicente – and he’d have it no other way.

If someone had to die, let it be him. Grace had lived with fear of her own death for long enough. Perhaps if Vicente were out of the picture, Giorgio would cut his losses and let her go. At least, that was the assassin’s hope.

Between spending time in Grace’s company and devoting himself to their remaining undiscovered, Vicente somehow found time to try to begin to forgive his mother for what she had allowed him to become. Before, he’d thought only to be angry with her for hiding the cancer from him. Now, with this newest revelation came a host of new emotions that Vicente wasn’t quite certain how to handle.

He’d lived without feeling for so long; it was as if Grace Trellis had flipped some kind of switch inside him and now, he would have to get used to his humanity flooding back all at once.

There were nights where he woke up in a cold sweat, inundated with memories of acts he thought long forgotten. There were days where he poured out his crimes in an endless list to the young woman and she listened without judgment, her expression earnest and her embrace so close to heaven that he found himself content in her arms.

Though they couldn’t go out together, couldn’t see as much of the city as he knew Grace would have liked, they found comfort in one another – something neither of them had experienced for a long time.

It was exactly what Vicente needed to help him start to rebuild the pieces of a life torn violently to shreds by his stepfather.

He should have known that it couldn’t last.

Every moment that he spent with Grace, Vicente grew closer to her; and if he had still been in any position of import with Giorgio, he would have seen the danger in such a thing. But being with Grace, whether he wanted it to or not, changed his perspective on things. She changed the way he felt and acted, as being human leeched back into his everyday lifestyle.

Vicente the hardened assassin would have known never to let himself get too close to a woman because of the difficulties it would cause him. Human Vicente should have been more careful about the matter for the inevitable strife it would cause
her
.

In the end, neither won out, and disaster struck.

It was inevitable that Vicente had to face the Czech crime syndicate. While he was no longer Giorgio Acconci’s right hand man and had never had any dealings with the Czechs even when he
was
, it was impossible to travel into their territory the way he and Grace had without confronting them. Vicente planned to offer them information in exchange for their safekeeping in the capital – and he knew much that could interest them.

He’d never left Grace alone for more than an hour or so, but this time was different. The Czech Syndicate headquarters was all the way across Prague, and he’d be leaving her to her own devices for the better part of a day.

To say the least, it had him ill at ease.

“Don’t open the door for anyone.” Vicente reminded Grace for the umpteenth time that morning, busy strapping two pistols on beneath his leather jacket. “And stay away from the window. Don’t even walk past it if you can avoid it.”

Grace was staring up at him from her position in the room’s only armchair. She had risen unusually early to see him off and, despite his worry, he couldn’t help but want to drag her back to bed and further mess her unkempt locks with his favorite type of friction.

But now was not the time.

The young woman nodded at his instruction, yawning as she reassured him. “I’ll be careful, Vicente, I swear. I probably won’t even leave the bed until you get back.”

“Good.” The assassin drew close to her, leaning over to press his mouth briefly, hungrily against hers so she squirmed. “You’ll be waiting for me, then.” She nodded wordlessly as he stroked through her hair for a moment.

Then, Vicente paused. He couldn’t leave her without some form of protection. Though he didn’t particularly think she was in any undue danger, there was always a chance. Bending at the knee, the man reached into one of his black leather bags to withdraw a spare Beretta, which he quickly fitted with a silencer before pressing it into Grace’s hands.

When her eyes widened, he spoke before she could. “Just in case.” He pointed to a small lever near the trigger. “Safety is here. Should there be a need, point and shoot. Don’t be noble, Grace. They certainly won’t be.”

She merely looked from him to the gun and a moment of terse silence passed between them before she nodded once, curtly. Vicente reached out to draw his thumb across her kiss swollen mouth once, briefly, before he turned to leave her.

A moment later and he wouldn’t have been able to.

It took Vicente the better part of a day to find his way across Prague. While he could claim to be polyglot, Slavic languages were not his specialty. There was that, and the fact that he was attempting to remain inconspicuous – which was harder than one might think, even in a city the size of Prague. He took mass transportation whenever possible, and kept to dark corners and alleyways.

When he was about five kilometers from his destination, Vicente paused behind a government building, inundated with the sensation of being watched he turned just in time to catch a bullet in the chest just above his heart.

The impact drove him backwards against a brick wall and had him gasping for breath, even as he reached for his Glock. Vicente slid down into a seated position, taking cover behind a trash can as he reached up to feel the bullet’s point of entry. It was firmly lodged in the Kevlar vest he wore constantly, but there would no doubt be a nasty bruise.

For a moment, he waited behind cover for a second shot – which would tell him the direction from which the sniper was firing. When it did not come, he tensed, preparing for a battle on the ground.

He was not disappointed. Within moments, footsteps began down the alley and he concentrated on counting them. It sounded like at least four men – large ones – and he had no idea if they were carrying any weapons or not.

“Vicente Acconci.” The voice that addressed him was low and rough. “Come out now, and we might spare your life.”

The Slavic accented tones had him bristling. These men weren’t some Italian hit squad sent after him. They were Czechs!

“I come to your territory to barter a deal with you and this is how you greet me?” He didn’t attempt to hide the irritation from his voice. He had come all the way across town – he had left Grace alone – and all only to be betrayed.

“We have been paid a large sum of money to send you back to Giorgio Acconci alive, Vicente. Don’t make things difficult for us.”

He could see their shadows now. Four men, all over six feet tall, two carrying guns and the other two with wicked looking crowbars. They were perhaps ten feet from where he hid, and they would know his exact location.

Which meant he would have to kill them quickly.

“I suppose it matters nothing to you that Giorgio would sooner shoot you in the back than pay you what he promised?” It was most probably true. Giorgio didn’t like to deal with Czechs, and was no doubt planning on screwing them over after they delivered.

If
they delivered.

“You will say anything to save your own skin, Vicente. We heard what happened. Turning traitor over a woman…and you were supposed to be the best of the best.”

In a lightning fast movement, Vicente popped out from behind the trashcan and fired four shots. They all hit their marks – drilling each man squarely through the chest so he went down, hard, in a plethora of flailing limbs with a shocked expression. Exhaling a slow breath, Vicente reached up to touch the aching spot just below his collarbone.

It would definitely bruise.

But for now, he had more important matters to tend to. He strode over to the man who had spoken to him – a beefy character with dark hair clipped close to his head and a scar on his chin. The man was choking on his own blood as his lungs filled with it, staring up at Vicente furiously.

“I
was
nothing.” The Italian clarified for him, holstering his weapon. “Which I am sure Giorgio neglected to mention to you.” As the light faded from the man’s eyes, Vicente’s thoughts kicked into overdrive.

Giorgio would not merely have sent these incompetents. It was more than likely that they had only been put onto his tail to distract him.

Which meant that his stepfather had gone after Grace.

The revelation made the assassin’s chest tighten in apprehension and he turned on his heel to sprint from the alley and back in the direction from which he had come.

He’d been an idiot. An absolute
fucking
idiot – and his stupidity might cost Grace her life.

**

It was the most content Grace had ever been in her entire life.

Even when she had felt any kind of closeness with her parents, it had been nothing like this. She was getting to know the man she’d once considered unfathomable – absorbing him into her system and making him hers.

Any woman would be remiss to think that Vicente could be tamed. He let her into his psyche because he wanted her to be there, and Grace found herself honored by the privilege. Every time he touched her…opened his mouth to speak of something he asked her judgment on, they grew closer.

She felt that the man knew everything there was to know about why she was who she was – but she was still learning his ins, his outs and his intricacies; Grace made it her personal mission to get him to open more every day, and so far, she was doing a good job.

There would almost certainly be no opening today, though. The man had gone off on some mission on the other side of Prague, and wouldn’t be back until evening.

He had left her with a gun.

Grace felt uneasy as she stared at the weapon she’d set on the bedside table. She hardly knew how to use it. Even when she’d had the chance to shoot her captor before, she’d hesitated. Vicente had warned her of the dangers of doing so again.

Personally, Grace planned on letting the weapon sit exactly where it was for the next few hours until Vicente came back. It had been four weeks since they’d left Italy, and so far, they’d seen neither hide nor hair of the infamous Italian mob.

While Vicente was sure they were still being hunted, Grace had allowed herself to relax somewhat. She had faith in the assassin’s ability to protect her. Christ, she’d seen him cripple a man with pinpoint precision in under a second. Vicente’s image was a personification of the term “lethal”.

Then again, she was so wrapped up in the way he made her body sing that she barely had time to worry about being hunted anymore. Whenever she brooded too much, the man seemed to sense it and allayed her fears with his lips, tongue and hands until her concerns were driven from her mind.