Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

5

Una

I don’t know how long I’ve been in this room, but it’s definitely been several days. Every so often Gio and Tommy come in here and give me food—always with a gun pointed in my direction. The longer this goes on, the more suspicious I become. I’m being held like a prisoner. Arnaldo might be out of the picture, but the Italians still want me dead. Probably even more so now, so, it stands to reason that Nero’s loyalties have swayed in their direction. The longer I’m kept here, the more convinced I am that he’s against me. It’s just a matter of time before he hands me over to their new boss. Nicholai might have enough power to get me out of it, but he’s the last person I want to save me for various reasons. I’d sooner take my chances with the Italians. At least they protect children rather than turn them into soldiers.

By the time Gio comes in with food, I’m done. He holds the pistol up and I narrow my eyes at him. One of the guys I don’t know brings food into the room, but instead of standing at a distance like I have done, I charge him. I’m taking a chance here. I don’t think Gio has it in him to shoot a pregnant woman. He’d shoot me without a second thought, but carrying Nero’s child? I very much doubt it.

“Una!” Gio shouts at me.

I throat punch the new guy and he chokes, clutching at his throat. I grab him around the neck and pull his body in front of me. “Damn it, Una.” Gio glares at me over the guy’s shoulder.

“I’m going to make this really easy for you, Gio. You can lead me to Nero, I can snap this guy’s neck, or I can take that gun from you and kill everyone in this house until I find that bastard.”

Gio inhales heavily, eyes boring into mine. “Fine.” He turns away from me and walks out into the hallway.

“Walk,” I instruct the guy. He does, following behind Gio. We move up a set of stairs, and then through a door that leads into a hallway. A hallway I know all too well, because I was standing in it only a few days ago. “You have got to be shitting me,” I whisper under my breath. Arnaldo’s house. We’re in Arnaldo’s damn mansion? This is not good.

My eyes dart around the hallway and two guys approach us. Gio says something to them and they step to the side, pressing themselves against the walls on either side as we pass. I glance at one of them, spotting the gun tucked into a holster at his chest. I shove my body shield forward a step and he staggers, giving me the perfect opportunity to slam my knee between his legs. In the split second that his groans cause a distraction, I launch myself at the other guy, punching him in the temple hard enough that he sways on his feet. I wrap my arms around him, and yank both his guns from his chest holster. Never have I felt so relieved to have a weapon in my hand. I’m whole again. Complete. Whirling around, I shove the guy to the ground and bring both guns up to face Gio and the remaining man, both of whom now have guns aimed at me.

I smile, loving the thrill of danger that only comes from an impossible situation. “We’ve been through this before, Gio. You can’t shoot me before I shoot you.”

His expression is set into a fierce scowl. “Drop the guns, Una.” I start inching back along the corridor, my bare feel padding over the marble floor.

“I don’t think I will.”

“We are not the enemy.”

“Well, I feel an awful lot like a prisoner right now.”

“It’s for your own protection.” I’m not sure if Gio actually believes that. He’s just honorable enough to think so.

“Protection from who?”

He huffs a deep breath. “Yourself mainly.”

“Nice try, but I haven’t seen Nero. And you better believe I don’t trust that bastard at the best of times.” Gio’s eyes shift just a fraction of an inch over my left shoulder, and I keep one gun on him while my other arm flies out to the other side, aiming at the newcomer. I don’t have to look to know who it is, the turbulent energy is like standing in an electrical storm. Nero.

“You haven’t seen me, because I didn’t want to see you.” I can’t help but look at him. Nero looks fiercely powerful in a tailored suit. He’s perfect, not one single hair out of place. Those dark eyes meet mine, always swirling with such beautiful promises of blood and pain. My stomach clenches under his gaze and I fight my hammering pulse, forcing myself to focus. No. He’s nothing more than a threat, a potential enemy. I point the gun at his beautiful face, my finger lingering over the trigger poised as though the weapon is a mere extension of myself.

“Trying to keep me prisoner? Big fucking mistake.” I hear the shift of footsteps behind me. “I do not need to look at you to shoot you, Gio.”

Nero’s lips twitch and he looks up at Gio. “Go.”

“Nero…”

“Go!” he roars. I hear a disapproving sigh, the shuffling of feet disappearing down the hall before a door closes. And then silence. Only he and I.

Now, I point both guns at him, my teeth clenched as I stare back at the man who once felt like an ally at the very least. A strange sense of betrayal slinks its way around me, squeezing until this horrible splintered feeling settles into my gut. He takes a slow step forward and I press the barrel of the gun against his forehead. We’ve been here before, in this exact same position—me with a gun to his head and him completely fearless. I was drawn to that confidence, fascinated by it. He instilled this wariness in me which I hadn’t felt in such a long time. He stares back at me with a cold indifference, a ruthlessness that makes my heart pound and my breaths shorten. That little fissure of fear calls to me, hypnotizes me. I force it all away, focusing on what needs to be done.

“Who is the new underboss?” I ask, taking the opportunity to gather information. I can no longer trust Nero, and that means getting what I can and getting the hell out of here.

“We need to talk.”

I huff a laugh. “You’ve had several days to talk to me. I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck, so answer my question. Who is coming for me now?” My gaze darts to the doors I can see. This is taking too long. I feel wildly out of control and I don’t like it at all.

“No one is coming for you. You killed Arnaldo.”

“The mafia are like rats. Kill one and two more pop up in his place.”

“Una.” His hand slowly rises and covers mine. Some of the iciness shifts from his eyes and is replaced by something familiar yet no less dangerous. I allow him to push my hand down until the gun lingers at my side. A sudden wave of exhaustion washes over me. Months on the run have taken their toll, and sometimes it feels like it’s never going to end. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, fighting back the fatigue and the sense of betrayal laced with this strange pain.

“I’m the new underboss,” he says quietly. “No one will hurt you.”

My eyes snap open. “What the fuck?”