Page 62 of Sacred Blood

Ivan filled my coffee cup. “Eat. Drink. We leave soon and I want you properly fed.”

I couldn’t help thinking of him like an ogre from a fairy tale, fattening me up just to devour me. Why else would he be so solicitous? Was the food drugged? He ate from the same serving dish, but he also put certain food on my plate. Or was I just too skinny for his tastes? I couldn’t read this guy at all, but if I wanted to throw a wrench into his plans for me, now was the time.

I took a breath and took a chance. Feigning a calm I did not feel, I remarked, “You do understand that we cannot marry, we can only live together.”

This finally provoked a real response from the enormous Russian. His brows rose in surprise before he quickly schooled his expression. “What do you mean?”

I held up my hand. “Surely you didn’t miss this lovely ring that my husband, Gaetano Vitale, put on my finger.”

He stared at it for a long time, motionless, the only sound in all the world being the pounding of my heart. Then, faster than a striking cobra, the knife spun in his hand and he slammed it down, through the plate and deep into the table. He leapt up, shouting in Russian. Two of his men burst into the room, listened to his bellowed orders, and then disappeared again.

Once more silent, Ivan stared at the door for a moment, then turned his murderous gaze on me. “If you are lying to me, it will be your first and last time.”

I lifted my chin and forced my voice to be steady. “I am not lying. I am Gaetano Vitale’s wife.”

His black eyes bored into mine and at last, he showed his teeth in a smile. “For now, my dear. Tomorrow, you are his widow.”

He sat back down, pulled his knife from the table and used it to spear a sausage. He resumed eating, and after a warning glance from him, so did I. The food tasted of ashes and blood, but I ate, thinking of Gaetano, his strong arms around me, his confident voice telling me he was coming and I would soon be safe.

Of course, he’d also told me the Russians would never dare cross the Vitale family on their own turf, but that wasn’t Tano’s fault. He thought he was dealing with a man like himself, a man who would size up the enemy, weigh the risks and realize he would be utterly annihilated in a conflict with the Vitales. Ivan Knyazev was not a man—he was a crazy motherfucker incapable of believing he could be wrong.

He wanted his toy—me—and by God, he was going to play with it, even if he had to watch every man under him die horribly and create a power vacuum that would kick off an Underworld war across at least three continents.

And I couldn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t sure anyone could, but as I ate, I prayed again to anyone listening to make my beloved fiancée find me before anything else happened.

Chapter Sixteen

Gaetano

Thoughts and images of Gaby haunted me on the drive to the warehouse. I kept my composure, the cold mask of disdain I’d perfected over the years concealing the beast raging inside me. I knew what was coming, but not what to expect. I hadn’t been part of a full operation since I was eighteen, and understandably, Romeo didn’t want to bring me along, saying I’d be more of a liability than an asset. He changed his mind when I took him to the target range to watch me shoot, although we both knew there was a difference between shooting a paper target and a man.

“Be aware,” he said as I outfitted myself for battle, “we may not find Gaby in time. Are you sure you can keep your head after you’ve seen what’s been done to her? I can’t risk you charging off like a raging rhino. I’ll put you down myself if you can’t follow orders.”

“I’ve seen more dead bodies than I can count, brother, and if she is injured, I’m her best bet at survival.”

“I’m not talking about injuries.”

“I know what you’re talking about,” I said icily. “Now if you’re done coddling me, let’s go kill the bastards who took my woman.”

With no other reason to keep me from the mission, they made space for me and Vincent in the lead car with Massimo and Dante. But when we approached, a soldier in Fausto’s crew met us.

“They just took off, boss,” he told Massimo.

“Where?” I barked.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him partway through the window. “I said, where?”

“The airport! Fausto and a few men are taking the back roads to get there first and hold them off until you arrive.”

“Stay and alert us if anyone comes back,” Massimo answered. Into his phone, he barked, “Airport!”

There were a dozen ways to get there if you knew the city well, which we did. So I wasn’t surprised when at the fork, several cars went one way while others followed us. I called Simon while Massimo was driving.

“I need a map and the hangar number where the private jet is parked. Text it to my phone.”

Massimo observed me from the corner of his eye, but said nothing while I forwarded the texted information to the men with us.