Hunter (15 page)

“Until Enzio died, you mean.”

“Died... Was killed... Either one. She wasn't fussed.” He waved his hand dismissively and slicked some dark hair back from his face. “Although, truth be told, she probably hoped he'd be killed.”

Now that I could see. Easily, if she was anything like Adriana.

Isaiah stood and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He'd barely opened the balcony door when he had a match lit in front of it. He waved the match out as he stepped outside and dropped it the way he had the bug. “I made sure Adriana was taken care of,” he said on an exhale, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. “Alexandria had accounts Enzio didn't—and doesn't—know about.”

I rubbed my hand across my forehead. “Here's what I don't understand.” I joined him at the door and shook my head when he offered me the cig. “Why have you been doing this for so long?”

“I told you.” He took a drag. “Enzio Romano is a dumb fuck. Who do you think finds everythin' out, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, smoke billowing from his nose. He looked like a fucking dragon. “He's too afraid to leave the sanctuary of the Hamptons, because he knows that as soon as he does, he's a dog's dinner. He's the biggest pussy I've ever met. Why do you think he has a twenty-five year old boy doing his dirty work?”

That made me snort. “I'm hardly a boy, Isaiah.”

“True.” He inclined his head in my direction. “But you're the youngest he's got. Why do you do the most risky jobs? Why, out of everyone, did he send you to kill Adriana?”

“Because I'm the best.”

He winked, and the tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange in the darkness. It illuminated his face, showing every shadowy line and wrinkle around his dark eyes. “Partly, yes. But partly because you're the one who'd get the blame for killing the princess. He's not stupid, Carlo.” Isaiah blew out the smoke and stubbed the cigarette out on the banister before carelessly dropping it on the floor. “The truth would have come out sooner or later, and you'd take the shit for her death. Not him. He never would have ordered you to kill his precious
bambina
.”

“Then it's a good fucking thing I can't kill her, isn't it?” I turned back inside.

“Yeah.” He laughed, following me in. He slammed the door shut behind him and threw the matches on the nightstand. “There are five people in the Romano family who know where you are, Carlo, and four of them are in this city.” He turned on the other lamp next to the second bed and unbuttoned his shirt.

“I guess you're sleeping here tonight.”

“Of course I am. I'm babysitting you, you dumb fuck.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Isaiah.”

He grinned, the silvery whiskers on his chin glinting in the low light. “Tomorrow we'll go Calabasas and put together a plan. And then I might just drop in on my old friend Armo and see if he's grown a pair yet.”

I shoved my bed sheets aside, thankful I was already in sweats, and sat down. I looked over at Isaiah. “He takes his orders from a twenty-three year old chick who's studying for a Masters degree and has no social life, despite what I told Enzio. Of course Armo doesn't have a pair of fucking balls. And neither does his son,” I added as an afterthought, lying down.

Isaiah chuckled darkly. “Gaige? Yeah. He was born with marbles in the place of testicles. Little prick.”

“Goodnight, Isaiah.”

I batted Rossi away from my cereal bowl, even though I'd finished. The cat was crazy enough without being hopped up on Fruit Loop infested milk. He meowed in protest, so I reached forward, picked him up, and threw him on the floor. He hissed his frustration before he leaped up onto the sill and out of the window.

He even knocked over a picture frame for good measure.

Asshole cat.

I picked up the frame and put it back in its rightful place. The sound it made as it hit the sill echoed through the house, despite its size. It didn't seem to matter how big this place was. I could hear everything. Especially today.

I was hyper-sensitive to everything, almost.

Every gust of wind. Every shutting of a door. Every single sound, no matter how quiet it was, seemed like the most deafening slam.

And I knew why.

I wasn't staring at the doorway for no reason.

Isaiah was here. My father's
consigliere
. His best friend. Adviser. Confidante.

The man that was the cousin of my keeper but the most trusted ally of the man who wanted me dead.

I didn't know who to believe. It seemed as though the last ten years of my life had been a lie. Like every second, minute, hour, had been nothing more than a tactical ploy to keep me alive.

Maybe it had been. Did it bother me? Yes. I'd rather have died honestly than stayed alive deceitfully.

What was life, really? It sure as hell wasn't a mixture of love and honesty. It was closer to a clusterfuck of bullshit and lies.

I wondered what my true purpose was. To lead the Romano family? To die? To live in a state of existence that was neither dead nor alive?

Where was my hero to sweep me off of my motherfucking feet? Cinderella? Snow White?

Rapunzel,
you bitch
.

I stared at the pistol Darien had set on the coffee table. Loaded. Safety removed. Ready to fire, he'd said. Pull the trigger, and if the aim is right, the target is minced meat. Nothing more than dinner.

It was shiny. I had a despicably bad knowledge of firearms for who I was, but he'd never complained. I knew how to fire many guns, even if I didn't know what they were or what they were capable of, but he didn't mind.

If I knew how to shoot it, I knew how to hurt someone. If I knew how to aim it and then shoot someone, I knew how to kill someone. I knew how to protect myself.

That's all that mattered to him.

I guess it was all that really mattered.

Never mind that he'd only gone to the grocery store to get some milk. You'd think he was leaving me for a week the way he'd gone on. Maybe he didn't trust Isaiah as much as he'd assured me he did.

It wasn't exactly a reassuring thought.

I sighed and picked up my bowl. It'd been sitting on the table for two hours, so no wonder Rossi wanted the milk. He'd probably watched from the start and had a kitty ticker in his head for when it'd be fair game.

I put my bowl in the sink then went upstairs to get dressed. I was aware of the real ticking of the Grandfather clock in Darien's office as I passed it. The time for Hunter and Isaiah to get here was drawing closer, and I was still wearing tiny cotton shorts and no bra. I really needed to get a move on and get ready, even if a part of me was certain I was inviting death into my house.

Then again, I'd slept with death not twenty-four hours earlier, so what did I know?

I kicked my door shut behind me. Damn it, no. I didn't want to think about being with Hunter. I didn't want to think about fucking him again. It made me... well, it turned me on. Not to mention that I didn't want to have to see him with the memory of what we did still newly fresh in my mind.

I shook my head and pulled some clothes out of the dresser. Jeans and a shirt—and a bra.

Once I was dressed properly, I brushed my hair and applied a couple of licks of mascara to my eyelashes. I looked somewhat human again, although I felt sick.

I was terrified about Isaiah's arrival, and I knew that if he was going to kill me, he was going to do it within seconds of coming face to face with me. I also had no idea how Hunter would change with the
consigliere
around. Would he still be Hunter, or would he be the guy who walked in my house wearing a balaclava days ago?

I didn't know.

I was afraid to find out.

I heard the buzzing of my phone as it vibrated on the kitchen island. I knew it would be Gaige calling to check on me. I didn't want to answer it—I was afraid that if I did, he'd know that I was hiding something from him.

Like my father's
consigliere.

God, I was such a bad friend. And person, really. I'd barely even apologized for his pissing contest with Hunter in the back yard. Not that I had anything to apologize for. I wasn't the one who'd flexed my muscles and spread out my peacock feathers to express my sexual prowess.

Men. And I wondered why I was single.

I checked my phone and saw I was right. The missed call was from Gaige. I felt guilty when I cleared the notification without even texting him, but he knew me too well. Ten words in and he'd know something was up, so it was easier to ignore it.

I'd deal with it later. Or ask Darien to. I wasn't afraid to admit I was a bit of a wimp. And a terrible, terrible person.

The front door opened. “Addy?”

“In the kitchen,” I called back to Darien. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as he came in carrying a brown paper grocery bag. “I thought you were only buying milk.”

He put the bag down on the island and met my eyes. A smile teased his lips. “The candy was on sale.”

I shook my head and pulled the bag toward me. “You're a grown man, Darien,” I scolded him. “You don't need—oooh, Nerds!” I pulled the bright colored box out of the bag and opened it.

“You're a grown woman, Adriana. You don't need Nerds for breakfast,” Darien said playfully, reaching for the candy.

I stepped back and clutched the box to my chest. “If I'm a grown up, I can eat candy for breakfast. There's no one to stop me. That's the fun part about being an adult. I get to do what I want.”

He stared at me for a moment before he realized arguing wasn't the best idea. Instead he just shook his head, smiled, and pulled the bottle of milk out of the bag.

I put a handful of Nerds in my mouth and pulled out a stool. I sat on it as my phone rang again. Gaige. Again.

“He's gonna keep calling you,” Darien said, closing the fridge. “You know it.”

“I know, but I don't want to lie to him about Isaiah being here.” I waited for the call to end, then changed the setting to 'silent.'

God, I felt awful.

“So you're ignoring him altogether?” He raised an eyebrow and flattened his hands on the island to lean forward. “Adriana...”

I sighed and put down the box of Nerds. He wasn't going to let this go. “Look... Since Hunter showed up with the finesse of a rhinoceros, it's just been... awkward. Gaige hates him on default, and he was here yesterday when you made Hunter babysit me. They both got their hackles up. I don't think it's a good idea to tell Gaige that another guy who could potentially want me dead is about to come over for coffee and cake.”

“Isaiah doesn't like cake. Unlikely you'll be sharing one.”

“Can we please focus on the issue here, Dar? I know he's your cousin but that doesn't mean anything. For all I know, Hunter has decided to kill me after all. We have no idea what's going to happen and we need a plan in case it doesn't work out the way we're expecting.”

“All right, then let's think of a plan.” He stood up straight and reached for his water bottle. “What are you thinking?”

What would Mamma do?
I knew exactly what she'd suggest if she were here. We'd escaped once before, and being prepared for all situations was necessary. “Pack a bag and take the alternative identity documents out of the safe.” I got up before Darien could respond and walked down the hall.

I remembered the day we picked out the picture that would cover the wall safe. I hated it then and I hated it now. I didn't even know what it was of—it was an abstract mix of color and shapes that Mamma had loved but I thought had been puked up by a newborn. Still, it was an unassuming place to hide a safe.

I pulled the picture down from the wall, revealing the shiny, black door of the safe. I twisted the code in and opened it. There was a small rucksack folded up at the front, and the first thing I did was pull it out and give it a good shake.

There was no use having a shit ton of cash and documents in a safe if there was nowhere to put them in a pinch. And there was no way I could fit a thousand bucks in my bra.

I took the rolls of cash and dropped them in the bottom of the bag, then slid in the brown manila envelope. It had drivers licenses, birth certificates, and passports for both me and Darien. If we ever needed them, I'd be Penelope Dawson and he'd be my father, Andrew Dawson.

Satisfied I had some kind of safeguarding, I shut the safe and replaced the picture before grabbing the bag and taking it into my room. I packed nothing but the basics, then went to the laundry room and did the same for Darien.

The second safe was hidden in here. One of many. Mamma was never paranoid, but she was always aware of the fact that my father would find us one day, so she insisted on being prepared.

In that moment, as I climbed on top of the dryer to get to the cupboard, I was thankful for it.

I opened the cupboard and removed the dud box of soap. It was full of sand to give the impression that it was new, and once upon a time, I'd laughed when she'd done it. “Who'd hide a safe in a laundry room cupboard?” I'd asked her, and she'd responded with a wink and an, “Exactly.”

My lips twitched into a sad smile at the memory, and I paused for a moment. Sometimes, I missed her badly. Times like this was one of them. I wanted nothing more than her to walk in here, roll up her sleeves, and take control.

But she couldn't. She never would again. So it was down to me.

I opened the safe and pulled out the loaded 9mm pistol.

This wasn't paranoia.

I double-checked the barrel. Yep—loaded. Enough to kill if I had to.

This was preparation.

I closed the safe, replaced the soap, and jumped down from the dryer. I wrapped the gun in one of my shirts in the bag and zipped it up.

There. Now I felt like I was prepared.

Well. I looked down at my bare feet. Almost prepared. I wouldn't get very far without any shoes.

I carried the bag back through to my room, put on some shoes, and then went back into the kitchen. Darien didn't look like he'd moved—he was still leaning against the island, his eyes fixed on the hallway. He had a tiny smile teasing the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered when they met mine.