Marked For Love (Mob Romance) (19 page)

He took those two minutes to move into the gargantuan edifice, his gun held at the ready. Dressed all in black he fairly melted into the shadows. As men came upon him, he took them out with brutal efficiency.

In Vicente’s mind, every one that fell wore his stepfather’s face.

Clearing the surveillance room was harder. There were two men guarding the door outside, and one sensed him before he could get close. Vicente was forced to take him out with the Glock, which brought six more men running.

There was a searing pain in his arm as he took a bullet in his left bicep. He quickly retaliated with three headshots, kneecapping the fifth man before he and the sixth fell on Vicente like wolves. Luckily for the assassin, he was not left handed. He forgot the pain in his arm as endorphins kicked in. The man with the shattered knee cap had his jaw broken by the dark-haired assassin before Vicente shoved his thumb into the eye socket of his last assailant. The man’s shot went wild, and ultimately, Vicente silenced him with his own gun.

When he rose again, his lip was trickling blood and his left arm lay heavy and useless at his side. That didn’t stop him from taking out the three men in the surveillance room before scanning the forty screens in an attempt to find Grace.

After two minutes, he discovered her limp form tied to a chair in the main hall of the east wing. She was flanked by four guards, and Giorgio himself stood at her side.

The old man knew he was here.

That wouldn’t dissuade him.

Vicente slipped from the room like a panther, making his way silently and efficiently through the manor. Men in their twos and threes fell to his gun, and he reloaded countless times – though his movement never faltered. He knew that to stand still at this point would mean certain death – and not just his own, but Grace’s as well.

That would
not
accept.

It took the assassin the better part of half an hour to work his way through Giorgio’s stronghold. By the time he arrived at the main doors of the east hall, he was bleeding profusely from a cut on his forehead, his arm had gone numb, and his collarbone was intensely bruised – most likely fractured.

But, he had endured pain before – both physical and emotional.

Pain was nothing. But the
source
of that pain lie just beyond the double doors before him – and that…that was everything.

He pushed the doors open with his good arm before slipping behind a pillar, allowing their own weight to move them forward. Immediately, a spray of bullets peppered the air where he’d just stood. Vicente grit his teeth, reloading his gun for the final time.

It ended here – one way or the other.

**

At first, Grace had been too tired to register the sounds that had erupted beyond the hall where she was being held. Her head sagged against her chest and her jaw throbbed.

Slowly, however, the fog before her eyes cleared.

There were gunshots.

Lifting her head, the young woman strained to hear, not even deterred when one of Giorgio’s goons struck her in the stomach, stealing her breath from her.

Most definitely gunshots.

The notion was confirmed when a number of frightened looking men burst into the hall, speaking frantic Italian to their leader. Giorgio, however, only smiled, issuing a firm command that had many of their number whitening in terror. The man’s grin was even more chilling than the first time Grace had lain eyes on him, and she knew he was sending each and every one of these men to their deaths.

Even so, they followed his orders seamlessly, leaving the chamber in a rush as the heavy doors closed behind them.

For the next twenty minutes, Grace waited with bated breath. The sounds of fighting – of death and dying drew closer and closer with each passing moment, and Grace found herself more and more tense. Even as she knew it was Vicente, she prayed that it wasn’t.

He could have fled. He could have
kept
his freedom.

But Giorgio was determined to take it from him.

Then, all at once, everything went silent.

The three hulking guards in the room pointed machine guns expectantly at the double doors and Giorgio himself stood stiff at the side of her chair, his hands curled into its ornate back.

The doors swung open and the guards let fly with a barrage of shots that had Grace crying out in horror. When they finally stopped and the dust cleared, however, there was no body. The young woman’s heart pounded against her ribcage as she strained to catch the slightest glimpse of the man who had come to save her.

What happened next happened too quickly for the young woman to comprehend. In a dark streak, Vicente darted into the room, firing four precise shots, each of which found their mark. Three of the men guarding Giorgio and herself crumbled to the ground with bullets in their faces. The last of their number, however, only dropped to his knees, Vicente’s bullet having caught him in the calf.

As the assassin moved forward toward the cursing man, Grace felt Giorgio’s grip tighten on the back of her chair. Vicente stood before his foe, his expression neutral. Grace took the man in from head to foot, her breath catching at the blood that darkened his sleeve and the bruises marring his face. “Forsake Giorgio Acconci and all he stands for, now, and I will let you live.”

Vicente’s voice rang through the almost deserted hall, echoing off the marble floors.

His quarry only glared up at him, spitting something in Italian before attempting to raise his gun. Vicente shot him through the mouth and the man twitched once before falling back to stain the expensive floor with his entrails.

Which only left Giorgio.

Grace gasped as the man leveled a gun at Vicente’s chest quicker than she would have thought possible and shot three times. The younger man stumbled slightly, but quickly regained his feet, even as a wry smile spread across Giorgio’s face. “Vicente…”He uttered the word like a warm caress. “
Mi figlio.
”

“I am no son of yours.” Vicente uttered his answer in English before beginning to move forward once more.

He stopped short the moment Giorgio pressed the barrel of his gun against Grace’s temple, and the young woman winced at its cool metal touch. She didn’t have to understand what Giorgio said to understand the threat. He would kill her if Vicente continued to move.

What, then, would Giorgio do? Grace would rather die than see the man give into his stepfather again. Such a thing would kill her with just as much finality.

She only prayed that he knew as much.

**

At last, it had come to this. He and Giorgio.

Facing the man who had stolen his life from him made all the obstacles he had destroyed to get to this moment seem absolutely inconsequential. Vicente felt no fear.

At least, not until the man he had once called father raised the Colt 19ll pistol he wielded to press against Grace’s temple. If the condition he’d found the girl in when he’d entered wasn’t enough, now Vicente was forced to endure further threats from Giorgio. Threats he had no doubt the man would deliver upon.

“Look at what you have wrought, my son. All the destruction you have caused. And all over a single woman. She has made you soft.” Giorgio pressed the gun even more tightly against Grace’s head and the young woman shut her eyes tight, swallowing thickly as she whimpered.

Vicente struggled to keep his temper in check. He didn’t want Grace to be hurt any more than she already was. The sight of her bruises and the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth infuriated him to the point where he could picture ripping Giorgio’s head from his smug neck

But that would be idiotic. He had to get the gun away from Grace first.

“There was a time,” He managed softly, “Where you would have moved mountains to keep my mother from harm. You understand me better than you know.”

“Your mother understood that she always came second to this organization. That is why I loved her – because she loved
this
. Why else would she have given you over to me, Vicente?”

The assassin fought to swallow emotions warring in his chest. To lash out would be exactly what Giorgio wanted of him. He would look for any excuse to kill Grace in cold blood. “Listen to me, Vicente. I am still willing to forgive. I know how women can affect a man. Promise me that you will come back…help me rebuild what we once were. If you agree to this, I will release her.” He took Grace’s jaw in hand as if to emphasize his point. “She will live, and so will you. Can you deny me this? I am the only family you have left. You are what you are because of me.”

Vicente looked deeply into his stepfather’s eyes. The man truly believed that he still had some hold over him – even now. It was as disgusting as it was pathetic – and revealed Giorgio for the man he truly was.

Tearing his gaze from his stepfather’s, Vicente then met Grace’s cornflower blue stare. In it, he saw a reflection of who
she
was. There was fear, yes, but also hope and reassurance. She understood that if he chose to walk away – to leave her in the hands of a man who would almost certainly kill her – it wouldn’t be because he didn’t care for her.

It was the second time she was ready to sacrifice herself for his sake, and like the first, Vicente had no intention of allowing it.

Giorgio might be extremely proficient with guns at his age, but he lacked Vicente’s speed and precision. Taking a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Grace’s, Vicente turned the barrel of his gun upward in a symbol of surrender.

Giorgio’s smile widened, and he began to straighten, moving the gun fractionally away from Grace’s temple as he pulled his finger from the trigger.

It was all the opportunity Vicente needed. He took aim and fired in an instant, and the bullet entered through Giorgio’s left eye, spilling his brains from the back of his head.

He died like many others he had killed, twitching in a pool of his own refuse until he breathed his last breath.

Vicente rushed to Grace, kneeling before her as he raised his good hand to undo her bonds deftly. All at once, the fatigue from everything he’d endured that evening caught up with him and, once she was free, he sagged against her, barely conscious.

There would be other men in the manor, but once they heard Giorgio was dead, they would flee. The Acconci clan would be nothing without their leader, and within a few months, they would disband entirely.

His stepfather’s legacy was no more.

“Vicente!” Grace’s concerned tone broke into his consciousness, flooding him with relief as she drew him against her. “Vicente, are you alright? Say something!”

“He’s dead…” The assassin whispered – and as he said the words, he felt freer than he had in his entire life. The weight that slipped from his chest liberated him instantly, and he felt light-headed - almost giddy. “Giorgio is dead.”

“He is.” Grace cupped the man’s face in her hands, lifting it so she could meet his gaze as she stoked damp hair from his brow. “Jesus, Vicente. You could have run. You could have left me. What would have happened if he’d killed you?”

“I would be no more dead than if I’d left you in his possession.” When the young woman’s eyes widened, Vicente leaned forward to press his mouth to hers in a lingering, indulgent kiss. He was sure he tasted of blood, sweat, and desperation, but she didn’t seem to mind at all, clinging to him as her tongue slid deliciously against his.

He forced himself to break the kiss when pain began to flood back in, making him grit his teeth. His arm started to throb. Before he lost consciousness – before they left this place and forgot Giorgio Acconci for good, he had to apologize…and to ask something of her he would never deserve – even if he should live a hundred years.

“Grace…I am sorry for this. I know I shouldn’t have taken you from Boston…but please believe me when I say that I have made no righter decision in my entire life.” The young woman’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over her swollen, bruised cheeks. “I cannot promise to love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve known love…but I can promise to try. As long as you’ll stay with me.” He took a deep breath, brushing his thumb very gently over her cracked, purple lips. “Please. I need you.”

As he had never needed anything in his entire existence, he needed her to show him how to love again – and to make peace with a past that had nearly destroyed him.