Charade (26 page)

Instantly terrified, she whirled around just as the bedroom door slammed shut, imprisoning her with her uninvited guest.

“C armine?”
Sasha barely managed to croak his name. “What are you doing here?”

His hazel eyes gleamed with fury. “You’re surprised? Our fathers sent me to take care of you after reports that the barbarian’s interest might be too intense for a delicate flower like you.”

He was obviously still upset over the way she had backed out of their bet and humiliated him by calling his father at her apartment. It was a complication, but Sasha didn’t mind. She was simply relieved that her gentleman caller wasn’t Vlad or one of his cohorts. She wouldn’t know how to deal with that, but she had always been able to handle Carmine.

Unfortunately, she was running out of time. Teal and Jeff needed her to stay on schedule, which meant she needed to soothe this hothead’s ruffled feathers right away—lull him a bit, with seductive flattery so that he’d let his guard down. Then she’d get Jeff’s pistol from the bag and order him to tie himself up.

“It was sweet of you to come all this way. And it’s true. Zelasko’s an animal. I’m so glad you’re here to protect me from him.”

“Yeah?
The way I hear it, you’ve been his slut since the minute you got here.”

She winced. “I flirted with him, but I never slept with him—”

“Liar!”
Carmine stepped closer, his face contorted with rage. “You’re a fucking liar, just like your father. And now you’re going to pay for those lies.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What lies did my father ever—
Oh
!
”

“Yeah.”
He pulled the tape recorder from his pocket and waved it in her face, not with confusion, as Jeff had done, but with menace.

Déjà-screwed!
Sasha told herself unhappily.
Why didn’t you destroy that stupid thing last night?

Backing away, she considered diving for Jeff’s gun, but she quickly rejected the thought. There was no way of knowing if Carmine had a pistol of his own, but she knew for a fact that he had his knife. He
always
had it. One suspicious move on her part and he’d probably slit her throat.

Meanwhile, his rant continued. “No one was
ever
going to tell me the truth about my sister. Just let me believe a fucking lie forever. All to protect a spoiled, stuck-up bitch like you.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find out about it this way, Carmine. I just learned the truth myself yesterday, and it almost destroyed me.” She took a step toward him. “I’m truly sorry about Vittoria—”

“Shut up! You’re not worthy to speak her name! She was a saint.”

“Really?
Then what was she doing in a nightclub with your father’s rival in the middle of the night?” Sasha backed away, fearful, yet also knowing she had to bring this situation to a head, once and for all, if she was going to reach Jeff and Teal in time. “Be reasonable, Carmine. Suppose you manage to kill me. Would that bring your sister back? She and my mother died because of the twisted code that rules our lives. Isn’t that enough?”

“My father lost a
daughter.
If he was a real man instead of a sentimental fool, he would’ve demanded the life of a daughter in return. Luckily,
I’m
not a fool. But it’ll hurt me to kill you, because I loved you once.
Wanted to marry you even.
Now that can never be.”

“Love?”
Sasha’s throat tightened with disgust. “My father loved my mother, and what did it get her? Butchered, that’s what! Men like you don’t have any idea what real love is.”

“Watch your mouth! Big Frankie and my father aren’t here to protect you anymore. Neither is my uncle. It’s just you and me, slut.”

Your uncle?
In other words, you don’t know Dante’s in Kestonia?

A glimmer of hope at last! All she had to do was tell this angry bull that the Butcher was in Kestonia, and he’d rethink his plan for vengeance.

But it was too late. Carmine was already lunging at her, and although she managed to sidestep the impact, he grabbed a handful of long, wet hair and dragged her to the floor. Then he straddled her body, pinned down her wrists, and grinned at her, insisting, “First things first. You owe me something, and I’m going to collect.”

He leaned down, clearly intending to kiss her, and she used the opportunity to crash her forehead into his the way she’d seen in the movies. Nothing could have prepared her for the blinding pain she inflicted on herself, and even though Carmine yelped and released his grip, she was so
dazed,
she could barely manage to roll free in time to see him pull his stiletto, his expression literally murderous.

Think!
she
pleaded with herself.
You’ve gone over these moves a million times with sensei Hakira.

Unfortunately, the knives at the dojo had been made of wood. This one was gleaming steel. The technique for disarming would be the same, of course. It was just the consequences of failure that differed so greatly.

So don’t fail!
she
ordered herself, and when Carmine made his move, aiming the point of the weapon at her heart then lunging straight at her again, she followed her training by slamming her right forearm against his right wrist, hoping at least to ruin his aim. And thanks to the strength and precision of her movement, the impact actually sent the knife flying out of Carmine’s hand.

“Bitch!”
He tried again, his empty hands grasping for Sasha’s neck. She was able roll away and spring to her feet, but her right arm had been damaged so severely, she knew she couldn’t hold off another attack unless she managed to get the stiletto, which was lying on the floor several yards away.

With pain radiating from her wrist to her shoulder, she dived for the weapon with her left hand, but Carmine anticipated her move and kicked the blade away, then threw his full weight onto her, flattening her to the floor again, then crowing lustfully as he yanked her around to face him.

“Bastardo!” she yelled, punching him full in the face, drawing an instant gush of blood from his nose. Undeterred, Carmine slammed his fist down toward her, but she managed to deflect it with her semi-useless right forearm while her left hand grabbed his shirtfront and she butted foreheads with him again.

She was almost unconscious now, but could sense that he was even worse off than she, at least for this instant, so she propelled her upper body against his, sending him careening backward. Then she jumped onto him, sandwiched his head between her hands, and bashed it against the stone floor, not once, but twice. His eyes rolled back and his mouth gaped open, appearing to signal complete incapacitation.

But Sasha wasn’t taking any chances. She retrieved the stiletto, fully prepared to impale him with it if necessary. Then she pressed her fingertips to his neck and learned that her instincts had been accurate.

Carmine Martino—her childhood playmate, long-time suitor, and occasional assailant—was dead.

She still had need of the stiletto, though. Almost without thinking, she used it to slice her father’s taped confession to shreds.

The cottage was only a few feet away, yet as Sasha stumbled toward it, she wondered if she shouldn’t just succumb to the hazy incoherence that was trying to overtake her. Surely she couldn’t be useful to Jeff and Teal in this condition. Better to slump to the snow-covered ground and get some rest. Or pull the pistol from the bag slung over her shoulder and enter the cottage in a blaze of glory, cutting Vincenzo to ribbons as he’d done to her mother so many years ago.

Jeff needs the Hummer. And you can deliver Dante at the same time. It’s perfect, so just suck it up,
she told herself groggily.
It’s almost over. Almost over…Think of Teal…Think of Mom…

“Stop!
Identify
yourself
!” a voice commanded, and two burly shapes appeared between her and the cottage porch.

“I need my uncle,” Sasha told them. “Please, please help me.”

“It’s Big Frankie’s kid,” one of the men announced, and then the larger of the pair of them grabbed her, bolstering her steps, guiding her toward the cottage.

“My arm!”

“Scusi, scusi,”
the man murmured, shifting his grip so that he was almost carrying her up the porch steps.

Dante appeared in the doorway and asked with alarm, “Sasha? What happened to you?” Then his face contorted with disgust. “The barbarian will pay for this!”

“No, no,
zio.
” She nestled herself against his chest and began to weep. “It wasn’t Vlad. It was Carmine. He—he went crazy.
Tried to rape me.
Tried to kill me.”

“Carmine?”
Dante pushed her back enough to stare into her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“He broke my arm!” she wailed. “He was talking crazy.
About you.
And his father.
And
my
father.
And Vittoria and my mother!
Some sort of insane conspiracy theory that made no sense.
He scared me to death.”

“
It’s
fine,” Dante assured her, pulling her into another embrace. “You’re safe here.”

“No! You don’t understand. It’s not safe at all. Carmine called the FBI. He told them where you were. He hates you,
zio.
You should have heard the things he said about you and Dad. He kept calling you a coward. It was so awful.” She stared into Dante’s dark eyes. “At first I thought he was angry because you protected me at the wedding. But it’s something else.
Something about Mom and Tori.
It made no sense, but that’s not the point. You’re in danger. We need to get out of Kestonia right away.”

Dante led her to a chair. “Sit. You need some brandy.” He motioned to one of his men, who responded instantly.

Sasha accepted the snifter and cradled it in her left hand inhaling the fumes from her drink, hoping they might clear her aching head. Then she repeated, “Just before he attacked me, Carmine said he had called the FBI and reported your location. They’re on their way—with Interpol, I suppose—but it will take
them
hours. We have to go now, or you’ll never be safe again. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Where would I go?”

“I have friends in Provence. They’ll shelter us, no questions asked. But we need to leave right away.”

“I must deal with my nephew first,” Dante reminded her.

“I think he’s dead. I pushed him—I was so scared!—and he fell backward.
Tripped over my suitcase.
And he hit his head on the stone floor.” Sasha gulped at the brandy,
then
added unhappily, “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to make him stop.”

“He deserved to die, the traitor. He dared to cross me?
To attack you?
He’s lower than an animal. But we need to be sure—”

“I checked his pulse. There wasn’t any. Then I dragged him over to an armoire and hid him in it. I didn’t know what else to do. I just knew I had to warn you.”

“You did
good
,” Dante assured her. “You’re brave, like your mother.”

Sasha set the snifter down and buried her face in her good hand. “I don’t feel brave. I feel scared. And I’m sure my arm is broken.”

“Let’s take a look—”

“No!”
She pulled away, honestly fearful of having her arm touched. But she also didn’t want them to discover Carmine’s stiletto hidden in the right sleeve of her wool coat. “It hurts so much,
zio.
Just take me to a hospital once we leave Kestonia. Please?”

The Butcher hesitated, then nodded and turned to his two men who were hovering nearby. “Get the bags. Now! Don’t alert anyone yet. We’ll call the barbarian from the Hummer and make sure we don’t encounter any interference at the border. Sasha’s right,” he added with another, more emphatic nod. “We need to get out of here before the cops can mobilize.”

One of the men strode into the bedroom while the other scooped Sasha’s carry-on bag off the floor near her feet.

“Wait!” She grimaced,
then
explained, “I have to keep that with me. My face is a mess from crying.”

“Put it with the other bags,” Dante countermanded, adding to Sasha, “This is no time for vanity. You shouldn’t be carrying anything. Not with that arm.”

“You’re so good to me,” she murmured, but inside, she was more miserable than ever. She had counted on access to Jeff’s pistol, knowing that the stiletto, while dramatic, wouldn’t be enough for the plan she was trying to piece together. Assuming the driver and the bodyguard sat in the front of the Hummer, she could probably get the knife against Dante’s throat, but then what? Without a gun in her other hand to keep them all at bay, these professional killers could undoubtedly overpower her before long.

“Sasha? Are you ready?”

She glanced up, taking full advantage of the haziness filling her brain.
“Hmm?”

Dante shook his head,
then
instructed his driver to carry her to the Hummer. To her shame, she appreciated the help, and took the opportunity to nestle against the strange man’s chest, trying not to think about anything but reaching Jeff—and safety—soon.

“Hey, boss?” The bodyguard turned around to look at Dante, who was sitting on the left side of the bench-style rear seat of the Hummer with his arm around Sasha’s shoulders. “This Kestonian guy says we’ve gotta stop at the border for a routine check.”

“Fools!”
Vincenzo Martino growled. “Tell them I want to speak to Zelasko.”

“He’s asleep, and they’ve got orders not to disturb him. And standing orders to stop every vehicle at the border, no matter who’s in it.”

“Tell them to wake him up!”

“No, no, uncle,” Sasha whispered. “That won’t work. I heard Vlad threaten to kill anyone who dared disturb him.” Licking her lips, she goaded her escort carefully. “I just hope it’s not as bad as when I arrived. They were so thorough, it took forever. We don’t have that kind of time if we want to be far away before the feds get here.”