Carnival Page 4

  Another curiosity, apart from waking in Konstantine’s bed four or five times a week, was the way he received her.

  He never woke her.

  He never wrapped himself around her body or kissed her. He simply let her sleep.

  In the fourteen months that this game had been going on, when she had awoken to find him there, he would smile. Only then would he reach out and place a hand on her hip or speak softly to her—never before she woke.

  And she couldn’t help but wonder why.

  She pulled back the covers and found she was still wearing the clothes she’d had on when scoping Fish the night before. Black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. She crossed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and used his comb to smooth down her hair. Running his comb through her hair felt strangely intimate.

  Far more intimate than anything they’d done in the last year.

  She placed the comb on the sink and met her gaze in the mirror. Dark hair, dark eyes. Not unlike the grocer girl that Fish had followed home.

  I’m your type, Fish, she thought. Not only in her coloring, but also in her jawline.

  One step through Konstantine’s closet, and she found herself in a cathedral.

  It wasn’t Padre Leo’s cathedral. The old man had named Konstantine as heir to his dark empire, and his exiled son, Nico, had blown it to pieces. This church, though not as opulent, was its replacement.

  What had Konstantine called it? Sufficient.

  He’d used this word more than once, and Lou simply didn’t understand. It was beautiful.

  The ceilings rose far above her head, with stained glass filtering the light through the chapel.

  The floor, columns, and walls were all old stone. She could spend years tracing each intricate carving with her finger and not take in every detail, every inch of art.

  Better still was the silence that hung in the air. Hundreds of years had hollowed out the place, and left it cold, sacrosanct. Just how she liked it.

  Sufficient.

  Soft voices echoed through the shadows.

  Lou traced the exterior of the room, following the familiar sound of Konstantine’s voice.

  When she stepped around the last column at the end of a long row, Konstantine himself sprang into view. Twilight filtered through a window above him. The way the light hit his dark hair gave the appearance of a halo, reminding Lou instantly of Fish and how he’d looked as he leaned forward to kiss his wife.

  Was Konstantine any different than Fish? Lou thought so.

  While it was true that the capo dei capi had his own body count, and had admitted to torturing when necessary, for Konstantine it was never about the kill.

  It wasn’t about revenge or feeding a hunger. It was about furthering an aim. His actions served an ambition that he wished to see to fruition. And even then, violence was a last resort.

  But what about Lou? She had no underworld empire to secure or grow. She no longer had a family to avenge. All she had was her hunger, the hunt, and the kill.

  Surely that made her more like Fish than Konstantine, didn’t it?

  Lou circled the chapel, watching Konstantine issue orders to the men gathered there. Twelve of them were strewn about the pews. They asked questions—all in Italian, of which Lou knew very little—and Konstantine responded, gesturing as he spoke.

  Though she didn’t understand the context of the Italian, she liked his voice. Its easy roll rumbled in her chest in a way that reminded her of her father. His voice had also been deep.

  Women’s voices trailed across the face and ears, but Konstantine’s vibrated through her body. The soft bass vibration of a favorite song.

  He turned toward her suddenly, looking in her direction, though Lou was certain he couldn’t see her in the shadows.

  Still, a smile tugged on his lips, and after only a few more minutes of instruction, he sent the men away.

  He watched them go, hands in his pockets. His back was to her.

  When they were alone, he spoke. “Ciao.”

  He faced her, still relaxed. He crossed to her with an easy smile on his face. But he stopped just short of where the light became darkness. “How did you sleep?”

  “I seem to like your bed better than mine,” she said.

  His smile deepened. “I am not complaining.”

  He gestured toward the pews. “Did you understand what I was saying just now?”

  He was trying to see her face, she realized. She stepped from the shadows into the edge of the light.

  His smile softened.

  “No,” she said. “Your English is much better than my Italian.”

  “We’re preparing for Carnevale,” he said. “We’ve been invited to visit an associate in Venice. I was giving instructions for our visit and what should be done here in my absence.”

  Lou’s attention pricked with excitement. “Are you expecting to be ambushed in Venice?”

  It had been a long time since she’d murdered a bunch of gangsters. Her hunts were one or two at a time these days, a markedly slower pace than what she was used to. She wouldn’t have minded the chance to stretch herself.

  Konstantine laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Vittoria and I have known each other for a long time. I don’t expect her to betray me.”

  “An old friend, huh?”

  Konstantine reached for her. She stepped forward, allowing him to touch her.

  “If only that were jealousy in your voice,” he lamented. “I would be thrilled.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Why?”

  “Jealousy means possessiveness. It means you consider me yours. Nothing would make me happier.”

  Here they were again, skirting the unspoken. They’d done this dance for fourteen months. Konstantine would circle around the issue, clearly trying to discern what she wanted from him—how much she wanted—and Lou would duck away from the questions. Or she would make a joke.

  As she was about to do now. “I came to collect you from Nico, didn’t I?”

  “You came to kill me yourself.”

  She looked away, aware that his hands were still on her forearms, his thumbs running over her skin.

  “And how long will you be in Venice with Vittoria?”

  He pulled her closer until their bodies touched, hip to hip. When he spoke, she felt his breath on her hair. “A few days. We have contracts to negotiate and she’s very stubborn. I suspect that she won’t make it easy.”

  Lou was tall enough that her chin was at his neck and collarbone. She placed a sudden kiss there, already inhaling the scent of him before she realized she was doing it.

  His arms wrapped around her instantly, reflexively, holding her against him.

  And she returned the embrace. Had they done this before? Simply stood there and held each other? She didn’t think so.

  Her heart began to speed up in her chest.

  Lou pulled her gun.

  She pointed it at the man crossing the cathedral. He froze, mid-step.

  Konstantine didn’t release her when he spoke. “I would never creep up on her if I were you, Stefano. That’s how you get a bullet in the head.”

  Lou was certain Konstantine spoke English for her benefit.

  If Stefano was worried about being shot, he hid it well. He was the picture of composure now, with his shoulders relaxed, his head slightly cocked.

  “Buonasera.” He slid his gaze from Louie to Konstantine. “C’è una chiamata per lei. È urgente.”

  “You’ve got a call,” Lou said, catching the gist of it.

  Konstantine squeezed her once more before reluctantly letting her go. “Will I see you later?”

  His unbridled hopefulness made her smile. She shrugged. After all, it wasn’t that she was consciously choosing to come to Konstantine’s bed. “Maybe.”

  He bent and placed a kiss on her throat, almost the same place where she’d kissed him.

  “Until then.”

  With a stiff nod to Louie, Stefano turned and follow
ed on his master’s heels.

  Lou lowered her gun, watching them disappear into the bowels of the church.

  * * *

  Konstantine waited until they were alone in the long hallway that led out of the church before he voiced his concern to Stefano. “You enjoy interrupting us.”

  “Quella stronza ti distrae,” Stefano said beside him. That bitch distracts you.

  The words sent red-hot fury through Konstantine’s body. He whirled and seized Stefano by the collar. He threw a punch into the man’s jaw, feeling the bone creak under his knuckles.

  Stefano’s head rocked back, his shoulder hitting the wall hard. The breath left his lungs in a whoosh felt across Konstantine’s neck.

  “Never call her that again, or I will put a bullet between your eyes. Do you understand me?” Konstantine’s hand burned and his chest heaved with anger. “Hai capito? Speak of her as if she were my wife.”

  When Stefano didn’t answer, Konstantine slammed him against the wall again.

  Stefano rolled his eyes up to meet Konstantine’s. “Ho capito.”

  Konstantine released him with a shove.

  “But it’s true.” Stefano touched his jaw with a grimace. “She distracts you, and you don’t even care. It should have been you to pull a gun on me. Admit it. You didn’t even hear me.”

  Konstantine hadn’t. He’d been thinking of his body against Lou’s, and marveling at how natural it had become to hold her after so many years of longing for it. They hadn’t consummated their relationship—and he hadn’t pressed her because there was a terrible certainty in his heart that the moment they did, she would leave him.

  “I’m in my own house. What do I have to be afraid of?” Konstantine asked, rolling his neck.

  Stefano pushed off the wall. “Did you learn nothing from Nico? Nothing at all?”

  Konstantine remembered the ambush. The alarm raised as his own men were slaughtered from within. Mutiny had been part of Nico’s strategy. He’d turned half their gang against Konstantine. But Konstantine had methodically culled all traitors from his ranks since that night.

  Of course, that meant bringing new men into the Ravengers, men who did not share a history with Padre Leo, or Konstantine himself. Men who might be more loyal to the money he put in their pockets than to Konstantine himself. For that reason alone, it didn’t pay to be lazy with his own security, did it?

  Stefano was not one of those men, which was why Konstantine listened. Stefano was like a brother. A tempestuous little brother who often touched a nerve, true. But his loyalty could not be questioned.

  “You didn’t even hear me,” Stefano repeated, cursing.

  “I have a lot on my mind,” Konstantine said, straightening.

  “Of Carnevale?” Stefano asked with an arched brow.

  It was a generous offer, because they both knew he hadn’t been thinking of Carnevale. Konstantine remembered the way Lou had looked the night before, when she’d appeared in his bed.

  He’d gotten home late. Preparing to leave Florence for even a few days proved to be a monumental task. Coordinating crews, supplies, procuring a suitable gift for Vittoria, and all while overseeing the day-to-day operations of his organization, had kept him up until well past midnight. It was nearly one in the morning when he’d arrived and stumbled up to his bedroom, too footsore to change into his bed clothes.

  His bed had been empty when he’d stripped down and put on loose pants, leaving his chest bare. Then, as he was brushing his teeth, a peculiar feeling had overcome him, like a change in the pressure between his ears.

  He stepped from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, and there she was, curled into his pillows as if she’d been there all along.

  She hadn’t even awoken when he bent to pull the covers over her.

  He was careful not to disturb her when she slept, for fear she might disappear like a mirage. It was enough for him that she was beside him—that whether she was willing to admit it to herself yet or not—she was choosing him, slowly, night after night. It was the surest sign of progress he had.

  He wanted that to continue.

  And just now, in the cathedral, she’d openly walked into his arms.

  His heart hitched.

  “You must admit she has made things much safer for us,” Konstantine said. “After Nico and then Dmitri, our rivals won’t even look at us crossly.”

  “Because they think she’s a devil you’ve sold your soul to in exchange for all the power you have, and that if they hurt you, she will hunt them down and eat their children.”

  Konstantine smiled. “I don’t care why they are afraid, the result is the same. No one wants to challenge me.”

  And it was true. They had already feared her before Konstantine had crossed her path—whispers of a woman who killed criminals in the night. It frightened them how she could appear and disappear without a trace. But then they’d believed she was a curse on the Martinelli family. It was his father’s men, shipments, and sons she was murdering—mostly. But that shifted with Nico, with his complete and utter obliteration, and now no one understood whose side this mysterious woman was on. Only that if they came for her, or for Konstantine, they would die. They needed only to look to Nico’s and Dmitri’s mistakes to see the truth of that.

  It had helped that the underworld had already greatly feared Nico and Dmitri. How much worse Lou must seem to them, when she could destroy their nightmares so easily.

  “It doesn’t matter what they believe. I’m safe with her,” Konstantine insisted.

  Stefano sighed. “That you think this scares me.”

  “I cannot spare you that burden,” Konstantine said, stopping Stefano with one hand. He inspected his friend’s jaw. He wiped away a smudge of blood with his thumb before lightly slapping Stefano’s cheek.

  Stefano resigned himself to this. “At least she’s paying attention. And I don’t think she’ll let anyone else kill you.”

  Konstantine shook his head and smiled. “No, I believe she wants that honor for herself.”

  “And what about the times when you’re not with her?” Stefano asked, stepping from the shadowed hallway into the courtyard leading to Konstantine’s private offices.

  Konstantine spared him an affectionate smile. “That’s what you’re here for.”

  6

  The chime above the agency’s door dinged, and King lowered his copy of The Herald to see who had entered.

  “Okay!” Piper called out, tossing her red backpack on the floor. “You’ve got some explaining to do, sir.”

  King reached for his mug. He tilted it to his lips and found the coffee cold. He grimaced.

  Lady’s tail thumped against the floor. Piper acknowledged this with an affectionate pat on the dog’s head, but didn’t take her eyes off King.

  “Seriously, you better fess up.”

  “It would help,” King began, pushing back his chair and crossing to the coffeemaker, “if you gave me an idea of what you want me to confess to.”

  Piper threw an envelope down on his desk. King recognized it as one of Dani’s assembled info packets. “Confess to the fact you’ve been working with one Daniella Allendale behind my back!”

  He topped off his coffee, the carafe clattering back onto the burner. “I wasn’t doing it behind your back.”

  Her mouth fell open as she gazed up at him from the floor where she squatted beside the dog. “How could you?”

  “By telephone. Though sometimes we meet in person.”

  “Be serious!”

  King laughed. “She’s an investigative reporter. It’s what she does.”

  “I get you the details you ask for.”

  King took a long sip of his coffee, trying to cool it with his inhale alone. Sensing that there was an accusation in this somewhere, King placed his bet. “It’s not like I think she’s better than you at the job. But sometimes we need extra hands. You know this.”

  And it was true. King couldn’t comfortably have taken on any more
cases if he’d wanted to. He’d turned down three spouses seeking to confirm infidelity this week alone. With his aching back, he couldn’t imagine hiding in bushes, climbing trees, or hobbling after husbands and wives in this cold weather anyway. But that wasn’t the point.

  Piper threw up her hands, her face getting redder with every word. “I don’t understand how I didn’t know. I’m involved in every case that comes through here. You’ve never once mentioned her. You never asked me to call her to confirm something. You never sent me to pick something up or mention where your source info came from. Why?”

  “I didn’t realize I was supposed to,” he said. Frankly, he was doing his best to keep his nose out of Piper’s business. “Lou has been working with her too. Hasn’t she said anything?”

  “What?” Piper’s outrage spiked. She collapsed to her knees. “Are you kidding me?”

  Lady saw this dramatic display as an opportunity. She rolled onto her side, offering her tawny belly.

  The door at the end of the office opened and Lou stepped out, closing it behind her.

  The room was nothing more than a storage closet, pitch black and empty, but Piper had jokingly put a name plate on it that read Ms. Thorne, as if it were an actual office.

  Lou froze as soon as she took in the scene. “What’s wrong?”

  “Traitors!” Piper said, pointing at Lou and then King. “Both of you.”

  Lady pawed Piper’s hand, reminding her about the belly offer. Piper began to absentmindedly rub the dog’s stomach.

  King sipped his coffee again. “Piper wants to know why we didn’t tell her Dani has been part of our investigations.”

  Piper scoffed. “Damn right I want to know.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about her,” Lou said.

  Piper placed a hand on her chest. “When did I say that?”

  Lou pushed her mirrored sunglasses up onto her head and frowned. “I asked if you’ve seen Dani, and you said, ‘I don’t want to talk about her.’”

  “I was joking.”

  Lou arched a brow, bending down to give Lady a good scratch behind the ears.

  Piper sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “So what have you guys been doing with her exactly?”