LEROI
My heart rate kicks up several notches and my jaw tenses to the point of pain. Anton is here and on his way up. If he doesn’t find me upstairs, he’ll either ask Miko to check the rooftop garden or assume I’m downstairs.
Shit.
I unshackle Seraphine as fast as humanly possible, my heart pounding so hard that I can barely hear her questions. After setting her on her feet, I pull off the blindfold and grab her shoulders.
“Stay here. Don’t make a sound.” I glare into her eyes. “The man coming upstairs to see me is dangerous.”
“But I thought your dad was dead,” she says.
“I’ll explain later.” I break off in a sprint, all traces of my erection gone.
“Leroi?”
“Do as I say!”
It comes out sharper than necessary, but I can’t take any chances with Seraphine. If Anton gets one glimpse of her, he’ll know she’s the innocent girl he trained to be a Lolita assassin. The girl he abused.
I dart out into the hallway and toward the stairs, my gut twisting into agonizing knots, but I ignore the pain and pick up my pace. It’s only when I reach the upstairs level and stare into the elevator’s opening doors that I realize I’m unarmed.
Damn it.
Anton steps out wearing a black leather vest on top of his usual black shirt and slacks. He’s clean-shaven but his salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back in the ponytail he’s grown since retirement. It’s a demeanor that’s always commanded affection and respect, but not today.
I slow my steps, slow my breathing, and smooth my features into a mask of calm.
“Leroi.” His voice is deep and smooth, but his eyes are as sharp as ever. “Have I interrupted your workout?”
“What brings you to the city?” I ask.
“Let’s talk inside.”
My pulse quickens as I open the door to my apartment and let him in, hoping there’s nothing lying around to remind me of Seraphine. Sunlight reflects off the newly painted living room walls, making the space suspiciously bright.
Anton steps inside, his gaze wandering from side to side. I stay a step behind him, ready to grab his arm if he tries to reach for a gun. He stops by the dining table and turns to meet my eyes.
“Coffee?” I ask.
“No, thanks.”
“Mind if I make some?” I gesture toward the kitchen.
“Go ahead.” He lowers himself into a dining chair.
I step into the kitchen, prepare a fresh pot of the special blend, and open the cupboard beneath the sink where I keep a spare gun. I pull it from where I left it taped to the underside of the cabinet, check the magazine, and slip it into the waistband of my sweatpants.
It’s been four months since I last saw Anton. Any warmth I might have toward him is now cold. My mind can’t reconcile Seraphine’s horrific accounts of abuse with the stoic man who brought me into his home, but there’s a fury burning in the pit of my stomach that’s threatening to erupt.
My feelings for Seraphine override my loyalty to Anton, but I have to stay cool. Anton never just visits without a reason. If he’s come prepared for battle, I can’t risk letting my emotions take control. That would risk Seraphine’s safety.
The kitchen door opens, and Anton steps in.
“Changed your mind about the coffee?” I reach for a mug.
He snorts.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Anton leans against the counter. “Rita tells me you’re running the business to the ground.”
“How did she come to that conclusion?” I ask with a smirk. “Everyone’s completing their assignments and the contractors are getting paid on time.”
“She exaggerates.” He lifts the coffee pot and pours out a steaming cup. “But the question still stands. What are you doing with the business?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“You’re making a mess of the Capello job.”
I stiffen, my throat tightening until it hits. He’s talking about the million-dollar deposit transferred to the firm from the bank account of Joseph Di Marco. I made the mistake of thinking our mystery client was Capello’s lawyer.
“These things take time,” I say. “Whoever massacred that family had to be a professional because they didn’t leave any clues.”
“Yet you didn’t once visit the mansion to find them,” Anton says.
Shit.
I huff a laugh. “Rita told you that?”
“No, I heard that from Samson Capello.”
“Isn’t he dead?” I raise a brow.
Anton takes a long sip from the mug, all the while staring at me through those cold, gray eyes. My heart pounds so hard its vibrations fill my ears, but I keep my breath deep and even, the way Anton taught me when I was a boy.
“He’s alive, and he’s demanding his little sister.”
I cock my head to the side. “I thought he only had an identical twin.”
“Leroi,” he says in his cut-the-bullshit tone. “I know you have Seraphine. The GPS on her collar last registered her at this location.“
My lips tighten. There’s no point in wasting my breath with denials. Anton must have known the truth from the day he called, informing me that a lone gunman had murdered the Capello family. The question is, why has he taken so long to act?
“You’re in contact with Samson?” I ask.
He nods and takes another sip. “Who do you think helped the boys plan out Seraphine’s little missions?”
Bile rises to the back of my throat. I would wash the bitterness away with a cup of coffee, but that would mean drinking the special blend.
“Why would you even create something so sick?” I ask.
Anton’s lips lift into an icy grin. “I taught you better than to ask such asinine questions.”
“Indulge me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Everything I have is because of Frederic Capello. Did you know he was my first regular client?” He takes another sip of coffee. “Assassination is a word-of-mouth business, and he spread the news of my services. I owed that man everything.”
“That’s why you corrupted an innocent young girl?”
“Don’t be sexist,” Anton drawls.
“What?” I hiss.
“You were even younger than Seraphine was when I brought you under my wing.” He gestures at me with the mug. “Same with Miko.”
My nostrils flare. “But I didn’t train him to kill.”
“Nope, but you took advantage of his skills as a hacker.”
I swallow down a response. Anton might think he’s making a point, but mine and Miko’s situations were different. We both knew what we were stepping into the moment we left home with hitmen. Seraphine was imprisoned in a basement, sexually assaulted, tortured, and trained like a dog. Anton wants me to lose focus arguing, but I won’t take the bait.
“Where is Samson Capello?” I ask.
He raises a shoulder. “No idea. Somewhere in hiding.”
“And Gabriel Capello? Were you involved in farming an innocent young man for his liver?”
Anton’s features harden. “Who told you that?”
“Answer my question.”
“Gabriel looks good enough to me. He stays with his mother in that little estate close to Alderney State University.”
“Evangeline?”
“That’s the one,” he says with a nod. “They told Seraphine her mother was dead and Gabriel was a hostage.”
“Why?”
His brows rise. “You should know. That little wildcat is impossible to control.”
A tense silence stretches out, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock. If Seraphine’s mother survived the gang rape and strangling and isn’t living as a prisoner, then what is she doing to help her daughter?
“Does Evangeline know what happened to Seraphine?”
He shrugs.
My jaw tightens. “If you knew I had her, why did it take you so long to act?”
Anton sets down his mug. “Samson isn’t fit to manage all the Capello empire. He’s too erratic and never commanded the same respect as his father and brother. I sat back, wondering if you were going to take Samson out and bring the Montesano family back into power. Instead, you’re running around town with Seraphine killing low level grunts.”
“Samson is next on our list.”
He laughs, the wound carrying no mirth.
My gut tightens. “Are you working with him?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Never liked the boy. Always fucking things up and bruising the Lolita.”
Lolita.
I tamp down a rush of fury and focus on my next move. That contemptuous word erases my last shred of loyalty. It never registered that Anton didn’t abuse me because I was a willing participant in my own moral destruction.
Seraphine wasn’t.
She fought against her captors with everything she had, including her teeth.
However I look at it, Seraphine and I were both tools that were sharpened to Anton’s specifications. It was Seraphine who exposed Anton’s true evil. I have to erase him from existence. It’s the only way she can truly be free.
“So, you’re the only one who knows I have Seraphine?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
“Yeah. Sam’s never getting her back. She belongs to me.”
Our eyes lock for a tense heartbeat before we both reach for our guns. Anton’s reflexes have been dulled by the special blend, so I shoot first.
His eyes widen, he falls to his knees, and his pistol slips from his fingers. A wet patch blooms across his shirt, just over his heart.
He stares up at me, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing in a soundless gape. The man I thought I knew was only a facade. Despite my newfound loyalty to Seraphine, my chest twangs with a pang of regret.
This mess needs to be cleared up before she comes upstairs looking for me with a knife.
