Burned Dreams - Page 55

“Zanetti. Was your buyer satisfied with the product?” His accented voice is steady and calm.

“They served their purpose,” I say. “What are you doing here, Drago?”

Drago Popov looks up at the hospital building, zeroing in on Rocco Pisano’s window. “I have some accounts to settle.”

So, he knows Rocco is behind the attack on his club. Fucking perfect. “I’m afraid it’s not possible.”

“How so?”

“That account is held in reserve. By me.” I glare at the Serbian leader, and I know he understands what will happen if he makes a move on a man who’s mine to kill. People pass by us as they enter and exit the hospital, but no one pays much attention to our conversation.

“Personal debt?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“You have a timeline for settling the account?”

“Within a week.”

Popov casts another look toward Rocco’s window, then nods and walks back to his bike.

“You have seven days, Zanetti. And that applies only to him. Not to others involved in the attack on my property and my people.” He thrusts the helmet onto his head, climbs on his bike, and rides off.

“Who was that?” Ravenna asks behind me.

“Bad news.”

A slight touch feathers the back of my hand as she drifts the tip of her finger along it and then hooks her pinkie with mine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping it'll stifle the need to take her into my arms. It can’t happen.

This morning, after returning to my room, I stared at the ceiling for hours as I mentally made changes to my plan. The idea of fucking with Rocco’s mind for several weeks disintegrated into dust. The notion of tying him to a chair while I torture him at my leisure—gone. I need to find a way to get into his hospital room and end him there. His death will be too fast, and that pisses me off, makes me want to hit something, but there’s no other way. I can’t wait until he is released. To preserve my sanity, Rocco Pisano needs to die as soon as possible. And then, I’ll leave. I can try rationalizing that decision, find an excuse for myself, but it won’t change the truth—I’m running away.

I spent a decade completing the most dangerous secret missions. Been shot at so many times, I’ve lost count. Held captive and tortured, twice. The last time I managed to escape on my own and, basically, dragged my blood-covered body back to base. And on top of that, I’ve nearly been blown to smithereens on more than one occasion. Then, came my years with Cosa Nostra. I wouldn’t call this a safe work environment, either. The number of people I’ve killed thus far is in the triple digits. More than fifteen years of violence and death, and I’ve never fucking ran from a battlefield.

Until now.

And I will be running away, not from a more formidable enemy, but from a woman with emerald eyes. Her crystal depths are pulling me in, and I don’t have the strength to resist the capture.

“Let’s go,” I say and head toward my SUV on the other end of the parking lot, tightly holding Ravenna’s pinkie with mine.

She falls into step beside me as the wind whips her silky black strands into the air.

Chapter 17

“You are not rotating yourself enough,” I say and release my grip on Ravenna’s hair. A quick glance at my wristwatch tells me we still have some time before the household staff get here in an hour. “Again.”

We’ve been practicing defense moves against an attack from the rear for twenty minutes. Every time I pull on her locks, even though I do it lightly and know that I’m not actually hurting her, it kills me. This is one of the most common onslaughts a woman may experience, and it’s important that she learns to defend herself against it. Rocco won’t ever hurt her again, but it’s good for her to have this training anyway. The world is filled with plenty of assholes.

A murderous rage ignites in my stomach the moment that thought forms. She shouldn’t need to defend herself from anyone, ever.

“Alessandro?”

I raise my hand and tangle my fingers in her strands, but instead of twisting them in my grip, I let my palm slide down the silky lengths. Ravenna. The name suits her.

She turns around, the tendrils slipping from my grasp, causing almost physical pain in my chest at the loss of that small contact. What should I expect when Rocco is dead and it’s time for me to go? I reach out and trace the line of her chin. What if someone dares to hurt her again and I’m not there?

“I’m leaving soon,” I say.

Ravenna sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t say anything as she locks her eyes with mine.