Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Nero

I lean against the breakfast bar and clasping a cup of coffee. It’s early and orange-tinged light of dawn pours through the windows of the skyscraper, painting everything in a tranquil hue. I like this time in the morning, before the world stirs awake. It’s as if you’re the only person, embroiled in this serene moment of peace, a pause in time before the world starts spinning again and everything that exists in day-to-day life comes pouring back in. And this morning, I need that moment to think.

I left Una in bed sleeping. She tossed and turned all night. Nightmares haunted her well into the early hours. It’s been a while since she’s had one, but I guess the stress of Nicholai hunting her is forcing them to the surface again. She’s so strong, but I see how broken she is. He did that to her. He made her lethal, and in many ways, instilled all the traits I love in her, but for the first time in my life I’m starting to see that strength comes at a price. I want my child to be strong, but I would never want them to pay the price she has. I will win this war with that bastard one way or the other. He broke Una, but I will keep her. I will make her a queen to be feared by all except me. And he will never touch my child.

“Nero.” I glance around to see Gio standing in the entrance of the kitchen. It’s not even six-thirty and he’s here, in my apartment, looking as sharp as ever. I swear he doesn’t sleep. “We have a small problem.”

He follows me to the living room and I take a seat on the couch, picking up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. He sits on the opposite couch and I slide the smokes across the table to him.

“Ziggie,” he says simply.

I frown as I light my cigarette, inhaling the satisfying smoke deep into my lungs. “What about him?”

“Jackson went to pick up last night, and it was twenty grand light. He said he’ll pay it next week, but…” He lifts one eyebrow as he inhales on his smoke. Fucks sake. Ziggie works Brooklyn, runs a gang down there. For the most part, they’re nothing more than ghetto boys and addicts, but they make me good money. Ziggie somehow manages to organize them, a feat that not many could achieve. For that reason, he’s useful to me, but this is the second time he’s taken it upon himself to borrow money. The problem with dogs like Ziggie is the second you take your heel off their throats, they bite you, even if you are the hand that feeds them. “Jackson roughed him up a bit, but well…you know what he did to him the first time.” Yeah, the first time Ziggie stole money Jackson broke both his legs. You’d think that would be an incentive not to have a repeat.

“Okay, go and get him. Call me when you have him. I’ll handle it,” I say.

Gio nods and pushes to his feet, stubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray. Fucking gang bangers. I don’t need this shit right now, but I have to handle it. I’m not about to let my city go to shit while I have the Russian breathing down our necks. Unfortunately, the world does keep turning, no matter what shit is going on.

Ziggie is on his knee’s in front of me, hands clasped behind his head. “Look man,” he says. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.” Gio stands to his side, a gun pointed at his head.

I sigh and fold my arms over my chest. “Do I look like a fucking bank, Ziggie?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll get it for you tomorrow. Please, please don’t kill me.” His begging is pissing me off.

“Don’t apologize to me when you aren’t sorry!” He squeezes his eyes shut, his bottom lip quivering. “You’re begging me not to kill you, so you knew the consequences.” I drop to a crouch in front of him. “Did you just think I’d let it go?”

“Please. Tomorrow.”

My phone starts ringing in the car, but I ignore it. It rings again and I flash an annoyed glare at Tommy who’s sitting in the passenger seat. He scrambles to answer it. I turn back to Ziggie and am about to pass judgement when the car door is thrown open.

“Boss.” Tommy shouts.

“I’m fucking busy, Tommy. I’ll call back.”

“But, boss…”

“Tommy!” I roar, turning on him. He goes quiet and drops his gaze to the floor. I know he wants to step away from me, but he doesn’t. “It’s Rafael.”

I frown and step forward, snatching the phone from his hand. “Gio, shoot him if he moves,” I say before pressing the phone to my ear. “This is not a fucking good time.”

“Anna’s gone,” Rafael says.

“What? How?”

“I had four men on her. Three were found dead half an hour ago, one barely alive. I’ve called in scouts from the edges of my territory and put a call out at the border. I’ll get her back, but you told me to keep you in the loop.”

“Shit. Fucking get her back, Rafael or you and I are going to have a mutual problem in the form of Una.”

He hangs up, and I drag a hand through my hair. Once. Just once, I’d like a normal day. The odd drug deal, perhaps a revenge killing, but no. I have to deal with stalker Russians, cartels, sex slave sisters, and last but not least, my pregnant and very temperamental assassin girlfriend.

Gio meets my gaze when I turn around. I take my gun from my chest holster and point it at Ziggie’s head. “No…” Bang.

Tommy’s eyes go wide and he rushes back to the car. “Clean this shit up!” I shout. Gio nods and I get back in the car, reversing out of the abandoned warehouse.

“Is Anna okay?” Tommy asks quietly.

“She better be.” Even as I say the words, I know Nicholai must have her. It’s just a feeling in my gut, expecting the worst-case scenario. The question now is: how do I restrain Una to stop her from going after her?

When I step into the apartment, Una is nowhere to be found. Zeus comes up to greet me but, of course, George is nowhere to be seen. He’ll be with her. I hear a low thud from somewhere, followed by another. I follow the noise to the dining room.

Una is standing on the dining room table, a crossbow raised in front of her. She squeezes the trigger and looses a bolt straight at a canvas painting hanging on the far wall. It lodges bang in the center with the other four that are already there. She’s so tiny but she looks so fierce. Her ponytail falls over her shoulder as she tilts her head to aim again.

“That’s a thirty-grand painting.”

She losses another bolt. “It’s ugly.”

“It’s art.”

“I could give George a paintbrush and ask him to replicate it if you like?” She smiles, swinging her hips as she glides to the edge of the table. Grabbing her hips, I lower her to the ground and pull her close.

“I see your aim is as sharp as ever.”

“Still better than yours.”

Dropping her gaze to my chest, she traces her finger over my tie. I glance down and see the single drop of blood marring the pale blue silk. “What did I tell you about wearing black?” she says.

“It may not show the blood, but it’s rather uncivilized.”

Her lips twist into an amused smile. “But of course, if the devil didn’t look like an angel, he wouldn’t be so good at corrupting the innocent now, would he?”

“Hmm.” I lean in and graze my lips over her neck, biting her earlobe. “You are very far from innocent, Morte.”

“And you are very far from an angel.”

I chuckle. “Come and dance around the fire with me, little butterfly.”

“I thought I was an ugly caterpillar.”

“Never.” I kiss her and she wraps her arms around my neck. “Wings of steel, my love.” She kisses me back. In the back of my mind, I just know there is a storm coming. Unless Rafael finds Anna in the next few hours, I’m going to have to tell Una and she’s going to lose her shit.