Page 162 of Dark Romeo

“Roman’s in trouble.”

“Trouble?” My stomach felt like someone was wringing it out.

“In less than an hour he’s going to be facing off against Dante Veronesi. A duel to the death.” My heart skipped a beat at the word death. “Dante is a ruthless cheater. Killing the only living heir to the Tyrell empire will cement his place as favorite with his father. He’s never going to let Roman walk away.”

“But the truce?—”

“The truce means jack shit. They both blew that sky high. I can’t go to his family. They’d turn the duel into a bloodbath and use it as an excuse to incite a war.”

I cursed. Damn you, Roman. I swallowed hard, as bloody images ripped from crime scene photos flashed before my eyes. What the hell was he thinking by challenging Dante to a duel? They were illegal, first of all; a modern-day flashback to when men used to duel with pistols that the local Mafia had copied to sorting out their feuds. Second of all, what a stupid thing to walk into without backup. “Why are you coming to me?”

“I have no one else to turn to. No one else to help. I know…I know you care about him.” Even though you shouldn’t, was the accusation. “He’ll listen to you.”

“I don’t know if he told you but he…” I hesitated. How much of our relationship did Mercutio know about? I chose to play it safe. “Roman and I don’t exactly talk anymore.”

“Just call him. Talk to him.”

“He won’t listen to me.” I said, my voice coming out flustered. I wanted to help, but Mercutio was kidding himself if he thought that a call from me was going to convince Roman not to do such a stupid thing. He always did what he damn well wanted. “We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms.”

“He still…still cares about you.”

That was a lie. Why would he break up with me? Why would he say those horrible things to me?

“Please,” Mercutio said, “he is the only brother I’ve ever known. I know he can be an asshole at times…”

I snorted.

Mercutio gave me a wry half-smile. “Ok, he can be an asshole most of the time, but he doesn’t deserve to die alone at the hand of the Veronesis. And he will die if you don’t do something.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Could I put my pride aside?

My mind sent me an image of Roman on the ground, bleeding out, reaching for me. “Jules…” his voice croaking before his eyes went dead. My heart seized. Mercutio was right. I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. I had to try. Even if I was the last person he’d ever want to hear from. I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing.

I grabbed my bag, rummaging through it for my phone. My phone, where was it?

Dammit. My phone. I must have left it at work.

Shit shit shit.

“Where’s your phone,” I demanded of Mercutio. I grabbed it from him and called Roman. I’d say anything. I’d beg, if that’s what he needed to hear.

Come on, Roman. Pick up.

It went to voice mail. My heart clenched when I heard Roman’s voice asking me to leave a message.

Shit.

I hung up and turned to Mercutio. His face was drawn, tension pulling his jaw tight. “He won’t pick up.” I handed his phone back to him. “We have to go stop them.”

Mercutio winced as he glanced at the clock on my wall. “We won’t get there in time.”

“Where is this duel taking place?”

“Dead Man’s Alley, Little Italy.”

Dead Man’s Alley. Shit. That place was dark, the buildings around it abandoned with plenty of places to hide. Dante could have snipers hidden anywhere. Walking into that with just Mercutio and me would be suicide. We needed help. We needed backup. I gritted my teeth. It meant doing something that Roman would hate me for later. Better that he hates me than him being dead.

“We can stop this duel in time if we call for backup.” I lunged for my cordless phone sitting on my counter.

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