Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (7 page)

I shivered.

“What the hell!” Dante roared. “You left her alone? With that idiot?”

“Eh.” I shrugged. “Nico’s harmless.”

“I meant him.” Dante sneered in Sergio’s direction.

With a mocking smirk, Sergio said, “Why… I’d almost say you were… afraid of me.”

With a violent curse I’d never heard my brother utter — ever — he charged Sergio, only to be held back by all three of my uncles.

“Val,” Sal barked. “Leave us.”

“But—”

“Leave!” All of the men yelled in unison. All but Sergio. He gave me a brief glance and then a nod of permission.

And oddly, it was like I needed to know it was okay.

That everything would be fine.

Because when Dante had moved.

I’d seen a flash of a knife in his hand.

And it broke my heart.

What had my brother gotten into?

And were the strangers part of it?

Did this have to do with the blood on his knuckles? Had he finally taken things too far?

I left with a sinking stomach, legs heavy, I moved down the hall and walked back into the party, wondering if that was the defining moment of my life.

Where everything was about to change.

They were fighting. Hardly rare for my family.

But something about the way they all stood.

And the way Sergio’s eyes drew me in.

Something was different.

Something was changing.

Nico glanced at me from across the room, and I had a brief moment of insanity where I was tempted to flip him off then throw cake in his face.

Which wasn’t me at all.

Huh, maybe I had some of Dante’s anger after all. Maybe, somehow, I’d inherited that as well from our dead parents.

Strength.

The thought made me smile to myself.

So quick bright things come to confusion —A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Sergio

HE KNEW.

That was my first thought.

The second?

Holy shit, he was huge for a nineteen-year-old.

And finally, the third?

A horrifying lump in my throat — because he looked exactly like Luca. Hell, the bastard even stood like him. God help me if I had to kill him, because it was like I was staring into the face of one of my mentors.

Even though my emotions were going into overdrive, I kept the smirk in place, and of course didn’t hesitate to make sure Val escaped unscathed, without knowledge of the dark. I at least owed her that after treating her like complete shit. She didn’t deserve my anger.

And the last thing I wanted was for Andi to be upset with me — she did say she’d haunt me if I was an ass, and I wouldn’t put that past her.

Nobody moved as Val left the room and walked down the hall.

It was quiet, but the air was electric, like someone had just released years worth of tension in that tiny space.

I had to give it to them; the uncles had appeared feeble, until they were forced to quit the little act.

Old and senile, my ass.

They looked powerful.

And angry.

So very angry.

Well, good news, folks! I knew anger well, and I wasn’t beyond kicking some old man’s ass just because I saw him using a cane ten minutes ago. I had to be angry, to be indifferent, to get through the next few days, or, God help me, weeks, in a constant state of dark emotions, because the minute I let in the light…

It hurt.

Damn it.

Everything hurt.

Years of training with the FBI and my own crime family kicked in, I hit Dante’s forearm with my hand, the knife fell to the floor as I shoved him against the wall and pulled both hands behind his back, rendering him incapable of doing anything except giving me a backward head butt.

“Let’s speak plainly, hmm?” I slammed him against the wall harder. “I will not hesitate to end you. Really, you should take it as a compliment. I have over 40 kills to my name. I am a trained assassin. I will not hesitate. I never hesitate. You’re a damn child, a pawn in a man’s war. Pull a knife on me again in front of your sister, and I’ll use that same knife to cut out your tongue. Piece. By. Piece.”

Dante didn’t flinch, but he did smile.

And I, honest to God, wanted to slit his throat for it.

“Don’t test me.” I grunted releasing him from my grip. “I’ve killed people for less.”

His eyes finally averted as he stepped away from me, briefly touching the spot on his throat where I’d placed the blade.

It wasn’t two seconds before I felt the tip of a gun pressed against my back.

“Nobody comes into our home and threatens our blood!” I wasn’t sure which of the old men it was, but I was sure of one thing.

Frank.

He was watching.

And laughing.

What the ever loving hell?

“I really don’t want to send you into a nursing home, old man.” I shook my head. “Put the gun down.”

Frank crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. Should I offer popcorn? The bastard was enjoying every minute of the show!

The gun pressed harder.

“What do you think, Frank?” I nodded toward him. “Six seconds?”

He grunted. “You losing your touch?”

I shrugged. “I was trying to be humble.”

“Hah.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “You don’t wear humility well, son.”

I grinned. “Don’t I know it.”

“One.” I elbowed the man in the ribs and ducked to my right as I pulled the gun over my shoulder and flipped him over my body, he fell against the ceramic tile just as I slid my foot across the floor taking another one of the men down. Dante surged toward me. With another kick and then a punch to his jaw he was down.

“Four!” Frank called out.

“Kinda busy!” I yelled, as the last man charged me. I used his momentum against him; the minute he hit my body with his, I slammed my hands against his chest then lifted him into the air and threw him to his back on the floor.

“Five.” Frank nodded, approaching on my right. “Impressive. But next time, try harder.”

“Maybe next time you can help,” I snapped.

Frank cracked his knuckles in front of him. “Arthritis is acting up.”

“My ass.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes as the groans of the men filled the room; I had to give them credit, they were already starting to get to their feet, ready to die for their own damn pride.

“Stop this.” Frank held up his hands. “We came to discuss family matters.”

“The hell you did!” Dante yelled. “You don’t come into our home, attack my family and—”

Frank held up his hand again. “This was merely a… demonstration of what will happen if you refuse to listen. Listen, and we’ll be on our way. It’s as simple as that.”

The old men helped each other to their feet and shared thunderous looks before one limped forward and nodded. “We agree, but first.” He pointed to me. “Who the hell is that? Because we all know he isn’t your grandson.”

Frank smirked and slapped a hand on my back. “Why, I thought after the last few minutes you’d have simply put two and two together, apologies.” His voice lowered. “This is Sergio…” He paused dramatically, the freak. “Abandonato.”

Cursing followed.

And I could have sworn each of them clenched their fists.

Because if there was anything the Alferos of New York hated more than Frank and the rest of the Chicago crew… it was the Abandonatos, the family that owned Chicago, that forced them away from their homes.

The family that took over when they had lacked the ability to do so.

I should duck my head.

Offer my sincerest apologies.

Possibly shake one of their hands and say something nice.

Instead, I responded with, “And if things don’t go well… your future boss. I’d show the respect I’m due. Starting now.”

A sweet face man a proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day —A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Valentina

IT HAD BEEN
an hour since my uncles had disappeared, I was worried. I was trying not to be paranoid, but they loved parties. The last time we had a party — which was last week, mind you — it had raged until two in the morning. There had been several cases of wine, and somehow, during the party, a goat was brought in while someone offered to slaughter it for more food.

More
food.

As if they didn’t already have enough.

I later found out it was owned by one of the party goers who lived in Upstate New York, a gift, he said.

My uncles politely asked for the goat to be dead first.

The man begrudgingly agreed — and after a few glasses of wine, added in a chicken for good measure.

To say our parties were legendary… well, that would be an understatement, but this one, it felt… off. Like everyone was sitting on pins and needles just waiting for something horrible to happen.

Even Nico was in the corner whispering with his parents.

They raised their voices above the music. Nico took one look at me, then stomped over to where I was standing. “We cannot marry.”

Hey, wasn’t that supposed to be my line?

“Um, okay.” I tried to look upset, when really I was elated. But why the sudden change of heart? “Can I ask why?” Not that I wanted him to go back on his proclamation, but he seemed angry for some reason.

“You are bad blood.” He sneered. “We cannot have bad blood in our family.”

“Bad blood,” I repeated. “I’m one hundred percent Italian.”

Again, why was I arguing with him about this? The amount of cologne that man had on was staggering. I took a step back just so I could breathe.

He finally locked eyes with me. “You are bad blood.”

Yeah, you said that freak show.

“Okay then.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Sorry for being… bad?”

“It is all right.” His shoulders sank. “You cannot change the circumstances of your birth.”

For some reason, his insult made me want to pluck out his eyebrows and feed the hair to the chickens.

“Well,” I said in a shaky voice. “I guess that’s that.”

He backed away. “Abandonato Scum,” he muttered under his breath, and then he joined his parents on the other side of the room. I saw Dante speaking to them. He looked — afraid.

Dante never looked afraid.

I motioned him over.

He looked directly at me. Recognition flared in his eyes. Then he turned to the crowd. Mouth open, I stared. He’d just ignored me.

Another thing he’d never done.

He turned down the music and whistled. “Party’s over, we have…” His eyes locked on mine. “Business.”

The surrounding people nodded their heads and started cursing in Italian as if they knew exactly what type of business he was talking about.

Still confused, I watched as every last person left our house.

“Dante…” I swallowed back the fear in my throat. “What’s going on?”

“War,” he whispered.

“America’s at war!” I screamed. “Oh my gosh, do we even have a bomb shelter?” I started running around in circles, I needed to grab a book or something, or my notes. Crap! I needed my letters!

“Val!” Dante yelled.

“I need—“ I was hyperventilating, but I couldn’t stop “—to go to my room and get—”

“Val!” Dante roared, gripping me by the arms so that I was forced to look into his icy blue eyes. “Not that kind of war. It’s… business.”

“Business,” I said dumbstruck. “Is war?” I shook my head. “You’re not making sense.
None
of this is making sense!”

“Good.” He looked relieved. “That’s… good.”

“Dante?”

“Val,” Gio barked my name as he limped into the room; his lip was bleeding. Sergio wasn’t far behind.

I charged toward Sergio. “You hurt my uncle! You bastard!” Sal and Papi followed, all of them bloody.

They were the least violent men I knew.

And Sergio, well, he screamed violence! It was in the very air he breathed, the way he carried himself.

Dante tried to pull me back, but Sergio lifted up his hand. “It’s okay, let her. It will make her feel better.”

So for the first time in my life.

I hit another human being.

Because I was afraid.