Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (2 page)

I took another deep breath. This was stupid.

I
was
stupid. It was a bank. How many times had I walked by this exact building and thought nothing of it?

My stomach clenched. Today was different.

I felt like one of the girls I’d read about in my romance novels, the ones who had adventurous lives, were pursued by drop-dead sexy men in full body armor. Hah, yeah that was so not my reality.

I tugged my coat tighter around my uniform just as my phone buzzed in my purse.

Probably one of my uncles checking up on me to make sure I was on my way to the store.

Now or never.

The letter had been burning a hole in my pocket for weeks, and I wasn’t the type of person to ignore things, especially weird things, things that actually made my life seem less normal, less boring. For the last eighteen years I’d gone to school, tried my hardest to get good grades, and worked at my family’s flower shop.

Oh, and I read.

I had no specific talents, unless you could actually count reading, which, is apparently frowned upon when you’re applying for college. I could still hear my Uncle Gio’s laughter. “Reading is a hobby, Val, not a talent.”

My phone kept buzzing.

I clenched my teeth, then pulled it out of my purse and answered it. “Yes?”

“Val?” Uncle Gio’s thick accent wrapped around me like a warm hug. “Are you sick?”

“No.” I glanced helplessly at the glass windows of the skyscraper. “I’m on my way.”

“You will be late.” He stated it like a fact, didn’t ask.

“Maybe.” I said distractedly. “Traffic is… bad.”

“But you walk.”

“I have to cross streets, Gio.”

He was quiet and then. “Did you eat?”

“Gio!” I groaned, already feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment, when would I ever be an adult to them? “I ate, all right?”

More silence and then. “I don’t believe you. I brought extra cannoli, just in case.”

If I ate any more cannoli someone was going to have to start running to work instead of walking. “Fine, I just — I need to go, it’s hard to hear you.”

“Where are you?”

“Close!” I lied. “See you soon, Gio!”

“Love you, little Val.”

I held my groan in. I would always be little Val.

Always.

I straightened my shoulders and shoved my phone back into my purse. Little Val would back away; little Val would have burned the letter I was currently carrying.

Little Val would probably have told her overprotective uncles and brother.

But I didn’t want to be little anymore. I was a woman.

I reached for the door handle just as another body bumped into me propelling me through the doors with an
umph
.

The crisp smell of papers and too much floor cleaner burned my nostrils as I turned a few circles. Where the heck was I supposed to even go?

I stepped out of the way and pulled out the letter.

Bank of America

Safety Deposit Box 36

There was no return address, and it wasn’t even in typical handwriting, but typed out. Maybe I should have said something to my uncles.

But, and here’s the creepy part, the part that led me to the bank the minute they opened. The part that had me lying to my uncle for the first time, since… forever.

At the very bottom of the page was a quote from Shakespeare.

The course of true love, never did run smooth.

It was one of my favorite quotes. When I was five, I’d stolen one of the old books from Gio’s library and snuck chapters when I could. Again, I was an odd child, so if you knew me, you’d know it wasn’t particularly strange for me to devour words like they were bread and butter.

I’d been obsessed with A Midsummer Night’s Dream ever since then, and that very book was still placed under my bed at night.

I had it memorized.

Geez, I was lame.

“Miss?” A drop-dead sexy guy approached me. His black suit barely moved as he walked, like it was glued to every muscle in his body. The black tie atop the black shirt screamed “danger!” The high end sunglasses hanging out of his front pocket said casual but not careless. My mouth must have dropped open, because a small smile curved around his lips as he ducked his head.

“Are you…” I turned around. “Oh, I’m sorry were you talking to me?”

“You talking to me?” he said in a perfect De Niro
Taxi Driver
accent. “You talkin’ to me?” He laughed a bit.

I joined him, realizing how ridiculous I was being. I was in a bank, looking like a lost child, and he was in a suit. Clearly he worked there, though his name tag wasn’t visible. I frowned.

“May I help you with something?” he asked holding out his hand, his smile was easy, but something about it had me hesitating. Silky black hair lay against his olive skin, he looked Italian but his stormy blue yes… there was something predatory in their depths. I felt like I should know him, but I didn’t, nor did I really want to know a man who had such a calculating smile. His grin deepened, my legs itched to turn around and run away.

“No.” I said quickly. “I just… wrong building.”

“I’m sorry.” He grabbed my arm gently. “Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. I work here and you were staring down at a paper and you looked lost, I put two and two together…” As his voice trailed off, he tilted his head, one eyebrow raised.

Tension eased its grip on my body. “Sorry, I’m just…” I waved into the air. “Long night reading vampire novels, didn’t get much sleep.”

“Tell me, how is Edward?” he joked, a half smile tugging up one side of his gorgeous mouth.

“Still with Bella, damn him.” I fired back quickly.

He burst out laughing. “You’re going to do just fine.”

“Do?”

“Now, what did you say I could help you with?” He was already reaching for the paper. I let him have it because I didn’t want to be rude. That was my biggest downfall — my niceness. Let’s just say it was basically impossible for me to pass a homeless guy without giving him every single bit of spare change I had, even though I knew that he’d most likely spend it on something bad.

The man scanned the sheet and then handed it back.

“Weird, right?” I said jokingly, a bit embarrassed that he’d read the whole thing and now probably thought I was insane or had escaped a mental institution.

“Eh.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder.” His smile faded. “You have no idea.”

“I believe you,” I croaked out.

“Safety deposit boxes…” He turned on his heel and started walking, and I followed mutely. “…are right over here.” He scanned a key card over some metal thingy and walked me to the farthest corner of the building. “Go down the hall and find your number. Some have keys, some of the high profile deposit boxes use a thumbprint.”

I held up my hand and then dug through my purse, finally locating the key and lifting it triumphantly into the air. “Key.”

“Fantastic.” He nodded once. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks.” I bit my lip in nervousness, I was really doing this. Holy crap. My heart slammed against my chest as I walked down the quiet hall.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for Valentina,” he whispered after me. “I truly do.”

My steps faltered.

I’d never told him my name.

Shaking, I quickly turned around.

But he was gone.

I nearly toppled into another lady on my way out of the hall to find him.

“Miss?” She was juggling about a million papers. “Can I help you?”

“A man,” I blurted. “He just left down the hall and—”

“No.” The lady frowned. “I would have seen him, I’m sorry, maybe… you imagined it?”

“Right.” I swallowed the dryness in my throat, my heart really going to town threatening to crack right out of my chest and start thumping across the floor.

“You look lost?” she offered with a tilt of her head, she was pretty, and appeared a bit young to be working at a bank, but what did I know?

“Nope.” I clenched the key between my fingers, sweat pooling around the metal. “I have a safety deposit box to look at.”

“Well,” she said, nodding, “let me know if you have any questions. My name’s… Emiliana.”

“Okay.” I took two steps backward then turned on my heel and made a beeline for the boxes, they lined both walls.

Finally, I located number thirty-six, and without giving myself time to chicken out, shoved the key in the lock and turned it.

Had I known then what I know
now
— I would have ran toward the bank, shoved my way through the fires of hell, and done just about anything legal or illegal to get to that box.

Shaking, I pulled the box out and went into one of the private rooms and closed the door behind me.

All is lost. Romance. Love. Stories. Endings. All. Is. Lost. —Sergio

Sergio

“HEY.” FRANK NUDGED
me with his elbow, and I glanced at the newspaper rolled up in his hand. Ink smudges lined a few of his fingers. “I need some coffee, did you want anything?”

I shook my head and sank lower in the uncomfortable metal airport chair, unable to concentrate on anything other than the pounding of my own heart, and the sweat that was starting to trickle from the back of my neck.

I flexed my hand into a fist and kicked my feet up onto my suitcase, pulling my beanie so low it nearly covered my eyes.

It had been two months.

Two
months since she was taken from me.

Stolen.

The ache in my chest grew. I couldn’t drink it away. I’d tried. And then felt so damn guilty for trying to drink her away that I spent the very next day sobbing my eyes out, thinking how disappointed she’d be in me. And how disappointed I was in myself.

Why end my life?

When she would have done anything — anything.

To keep hers.

“Mama!” A little girl in a pink frilly dress reached up for her young mother. The woman had dark hair that matched the circles beneath her eyes. “Please, pretty please!”

The woman sighed then slowly lowered herself to the little girl’s level. Something about their moment was tender, something drew me to them, a yearning in my chest, a desire to see something beautiful.

Andi’s death had been beautiful.

But since her death, I’d been struggling trying to find that beauty in the realm of the living.

The world was no longer filled with color. Just blacks and grays.

And it was slowly killing me, eating away at my soul.

“Mama!” The girl giggled, her blonde curls bouncing across her shoulders. “Please just once?”

The mom sighed again, then grinned and held out her hand. The little girl took it.

And twirled.

My entire body seized as the world around me ceased to exist. All I saw was that blonde little girl, face lifted up toward the ceiling, giggling with abandon. With one arm spread, one hand clinging to her mother for balance, she twirled again then fell into more fits of laughter.

I saw Andi in that twirl.

Felt her in the laughter.

My dead wife.

My Russian Mafia princess.

My vodka drinking terror.

I was afraid to close my eyes, afraid that feeling of peace would leave me as quickly as it had appeared.

Sadly, nothing lasts forever. Nothing.

The girl stopped twirling. The mom grabbed her hand. They walked away.

The world faded to black again.

My heart, once beating wildly in my chest, slowed to its normal rhythmic pace. I breathed in and out, because that’s what you did when you didn’t know what else to do anymore.

You simply
existed.

You inhaled. Exhaled. Smiled when you were supposed to. Asked all the right questions, gave all the right answers.

With trembling hands I pulled out the silly list Andi, my wife, had made when we got married.

It was a honeymoon list, but basically she’d just written down a whole bunch of stupid shit she wanted to do before she died.

Lucky for me — a ghost of a smile tugged at my lips — I was part of the plan. And I spent my nights holding her, making love to her, living for possibly the first time in my life.

Days were filled with laughter and tears.

I was in the mafia; I knew better than anyone how short life could be. My enemy had always had a face, a gun, always pursuing me. Wanting to end me, so I ended them first.

But, time? Time can be an enemy too. Its face is never intimidating, but the sound of the clock? Probably the most gut-wrenching sound in existence. One I still couldn’t stomach.

The only clock left in my house was the one on my phone for that very reason.

“Hey.” Frank swatted me with the old newspaper he’d been carrying around for the past few hours and sat. “You look sick.”

“Tired,” I grumbled.

“Me too.” He nodded sagely. “Me too.”

I snorted. “You’re old, you have an excuse.”

“We’re both old,” he said after a few beats of silence. “My body is old… your soul? Maybe even your heart? Much older than mine. Much, much, older Sergio.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Wasn’t sure I even wanted to acknowledge the truth of his statement.

“You may want to study up before our next flight.” He handed me the newspaper roll. “I’m going to shut my eyes for a bit.”