“No, Capo. Why?”
“Because you’re a warrior. Even your submission is defiant. You’d rather die on your feet than live on your knees. Like me,” he adds thoughtfully.
Like me? He thinks we have something in common? Revulsion curls my tongue when I say, “Thank you.”
My expression makes him laugh. When he lifts his hand from my leg, it feels like I’ve been sprung from prison.
“We could’ve made an incredible team, you and I. It’s a pity you chose to take the oath to repay Reynard’s debt instead of…the easier way.” His gaze drifts down to my breasts. He sinks his teeth into his full lower lip.
I wish I hadn’t guzzled all my champagne. I need something to wash the taste of vomit from my mouth.
He glances at my face. Whatever he sees there makes him prompt, “You may speak.”
My plan was to try to get right down to business and find out why he called me here, but something has occurred to me that’s much more important.
And far, far more dangerous.
I start haltingly. “I want…I want to ask for a favor.”
For a long, tense moment, he stares at me. I wonder how long the fighters will be able to continue, because I sense I’m starting to run out of time.
Then he leans forward, sets his champagne glass on the coffee table, and rests his elbows on his knees and smiles. He’s never looked more ruthless.
Holding my gaze, he speaks softly. “You know my favors aren’t free.”
I almost lose my courage then. But I’m gambling that the blood oath I’ve taken will give me some measure of protection against the worst part of his nature. Sicilians value blood oaths more than anything, except family and respect.
“Yes, Capo.”
His eyes blaze with anticipation. He inclines his head, permission for me to speak granted.
“The girls who were with you when I came in…”
That muscle in his jaw flexes again. He looks hungry. Like a starving wild animal about to rip into a carcass with his teeth. “What about them, Mariana?”
My name on his lips is so sinister, I have to take several breaths before I work up the courage to speak again. “May I have them?”
He looks startled for a split second, then his face clears with understanding. His voice comes out as a hiss. “Save them, you mean. Rescue them. From me.”
When I don’t answer, Capo sneers. “They’re two of hundreds. Thousands. All exactly alike. You can’t save them all.”
I stare at my hands. They’re shaking. With fury or fright, I don’t really know. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”
He grabs my jaw and forces my head around so we’re nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes. “This is about your sister, isn’t it?”
My silence infuriates him. He snaps, “There are better ways to respect the dead than throwing yourself on their funeral pyre!”
I’m shocked. I thought he’d jump at the chance to degrade me the way I know he aches to.
“Is that a no?”
His nostrils flare. His hands clamp around my throat and start squeezing before I can react. He jerks me toward him. The movement is so violent, it lifts me clear off the sofa.
“You stupid fucking woman,” he growls, veins popping out in his neck. “You stupid, proud, sentimental woman. You’d sacrifice yourself for a dead girl and two worthless whores who’ll rob you and stab you in the heart the second they get the chance?”
He flips me onto my back on the sofa, a big, dark presence looming over me as I cough and struggle against his grip. My eyes water. I draw my knees up against my chest in useless defense.
He shouts into my face, “Do you know what I’d do to you? Do you have any fucking idea?”
I don’t understand what’s happening. I know he’s furious with me, I know his hands are squeezing the life from my body, and I know that very soon I’ll lose consciousness, because the room is starting to fade.
But I still don’t get why I’m not already stripped naked and strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, watching Capo approach with nothing but a dark smile and a whip.
Enzo strolls back into the room, wiping his hands on a white handkerchief. Capo catches sight of him from the corner of his eye and abruptly releases me.
He stands and roars, “Fuck!” at the top of his lungs, then stalks to the ring outlined in silver, interrupting the two fighters.
He grabs one of the men by the throat and punches him so hard I can hear his nose shatter all the way across the room. The fighter crumples to the floor. Capo turns to the other man with an animal snarl and lunges at him, striking him with his fists over and over, mercilessly, even after the man falls motionless on his back on the carpet.
Enzo watches this outburst with vague interest, his lower lip puffed out. He’s still wiping his hands on the handkerchief.
I sob when I realize what he’s cleaning from his hands is blood.
The aria from Madama Butterfly ends. The only sounds now are ragged, heaving breaths, Capo’s and mine.
Capo stands. He spits on one of the men on the floor. He wipes his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve, then drops his head back, closes his eyes, and inhales a deep breath.
I roll to my side on the sofa, get my feet under me, and slowly sit up. My whole body is shaking. I cough and gag, dragging in excruciating breaths. My throat is so raw and bruised, I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk.
“You want I should order up some sandwiches, Capo?” Enzo asks, as if he’s a bored waitress in a diner.
Sweating and disheveled, his gaze disoriented, Capo turns and squints at Enzo. He shakes his head like a dog coming out of water. He swallows, rakes his hands through his hair, and staggers away from the bodies in the ring.
I can’t tell if either man is breathing.
“It looks like you’re in luck, Mariana,” Capo says, panting a little. “You won’t have to owe me a favor after all.”
He’s looking at Enzo’s bloody handkerchief.
I cover my face with my shaking hands. In a moment, another song starts up. Another aria. Another woman singing in her beautiful, soaring voice.
I’ll never be able to listen to opera again.
Sounding more under control, Capo answers Enzo. “Yes. Order food. But not sandwiches. Steaks. Bloody rare.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Whistling, Enzo wanders to the elevator doors. He steps right over one of the unconscious fighters on the way.
Between my fingers, I see feet approach. A pair of big, expensive black wingtips polished to a mirror shine stop a foot or two away.
“I called you here because I wanted to discuss your next job. Only two left to go under your contract.” Capo has regained all his control now and sounds like any boss addressing any employee in a staff meeting.
I can’t look at him. My voice comes out as a painful croak. “One.”
“It was one. Your dumb fucking Mother Teresa act just added another.”
I stay silent, eyes lowered, impotent rage boiling in my veins.
A heavy sigh breaks from Capo’s chest, stirring my hair. He lowers himself to the sofa beside me and pours himself more champagne.
“Ah, Mariana,” he murmurs. “This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go. I wanted us to have a drink, visit, spend a little time together. But you always make me so goddamn…” His voice shakes over the next word. “Angry.”
I don’t dare look at him. I don’t dare speak. I think of tropical rainfall and roosters crowing at midnight and a man who called me Angel, and I try not to cry.
After a moment, Capo whips the silk pocket square from his suit jacket and digs into the silver ice bucket, rooting around the magnum of champagne. He grabs a handful of ice, ties the ends of the pocket square together, and silently holds the dripping packet out to me.
I take it and press it against my burning throat.
Because this is my life.
Sounding tired, Capo says, “Listen to me. The job.”
I nod. Ice water slides down my neck and trickles into my cleavage. It might as well be acid for how it burns.
“It’s in Washington, DC. At the Smithsonian. I want the Hope Diamond.”
I turn my head and stare at him with wide eyes.
“By the first of the month.”
I drop the ice into my lap.
“And before you tell me it’s impossible, remember what happens to Reynard if you fail.” He takes a long swallow from his glass of champagne. Gazing at the unmoving bodies of the men on the carpet, his voice is bitter. “You can do it. I have faith in you, Mari. Your loyalty to that old dog is even stronger than your need to be a hero to whores.”
When he turns back to me, his eyes have changed. Gone is any hint of humanity. What I’m looking at now is the raw, brutal beast who would’ve strangled me to death if Enzo hadn’t accidentally interrupted him.
“Now get the fuck out of my sight before I lose my temper and tear you to shreds!” the beast snarls.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I grab my coat and stumble away, vision blurred with tears of rage and desperation, vowing for the thousandth time that someday, somehow, I’ll find a way to take him down. Until then, I’ve got to figure out how to steal a world-famous diamond from one of the most secure locations inside the capital of the United States.
Within ten days.
Or Reynard dies.
I grip the small velvet bag of silver coins in my pocket and hurry back down to Limbo to pay a visit to the concierge.