Page 5 of Courting Danger

The three had been in much better condition when they’d been trying to kill me. No doubt their new wounds were a result of Valente’s work.

I gestured toward the bound captives. “You’ve already questioned the people who attacked me. If you still don’t know who’s behind it, then I assume they were hired anonymously.”

My mother nodded, barely sparing the three a glance. “It was a careful job. No names. They never met the person who hired them, and all communication was made through a burner phone. Our only hope right now is to track down the store where the phone was purchased and get access to their security cameras. It’ll take some time, and there’s no telling how long the case against your father could drag on. Right now, the family needs a strong leader. It’s time for you to step into your responsibilities as the Mariano heir. If your father is released, then he can resume his position, but until then, you are now the acting head of this family.”

I dropped my casual posture, leaning forward with my elbows on the table in a way that would have earned me a cane to the knuckles when I was younger. “What? Why am I suddenly in charge? Why not you? You’ve got more experience.”

A slight pause before answering was the only indication of his mother’s irritation “Experience doesn’t matter as much as blood. I married into the Russo family, I’m also a woman, and as such, I will never command as much respect as someone, a male, born with both Russo and Mariano blood. It has to be you, or we risk looking weak to the other families.”

I recognized my mother’s stubborn expression. It looked almost the same as all her other expressions—the woman had a legendary poker face—except an extra tightness pinched the corners of her mouth.

There would be no arguing with her. If I tried, it would be the same as bashing my head against a wall. Painful and ultimately pointless.

“Fine. I’ll take over as head of the family... for now. So, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I apparently need to get ready for a very busy day tomorrow.”

I stood with as much decorum as I could muster, breathing a silent sigh of relief when neither my mother nor Valente called me back. On my way out of the room, I stopped just behind the seat of the attacker who had been glaring at me. Pulling out a thin silver knife from the inner pocket of my jacket, I fisted a hand in the man’s hair and plunged the knife into his eye.

My attacker writhed against his bonds, screaming through the gag, but I just held on tighter as I twisted the knife. I was careful not to let the blade slip too deep. After all, I didn’t want to puncture the brain and accidentally kill my assailant. The man still had plenty of uses. I just couldn’t stand the arrogance in the man’s eyes. Even beaten and bound, the man still had the audacity to glare at me. Fucker.

Satisfied that the offending eye had been permanently dealt with, I removed my knife and released the man, letting him slump against his ropes. Then, giving my mother and Valente a nod, I left them all behind.

Like everything else in a Mariano house, the hallways of this particular residence were large and grand, giving me plenty of time to think as I hiked to the front door. Using a silk handkerchief stored in my pocket, I absentmindedly and methodically cleaned the blood from my knife as I reviewed the last twelve hours. When I woke up this morning, my biggest concern had been boredom. Now, I was burdened by too much excitement, and not the kind I enjoyed.

Tossing the stained handkerchief into a trashcan, I heaved a sigh. “I need a drink.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I turned toward the sound of the familiar voice. My cousin sat half hidden on a window bench. She held a book in her hands that was open to a page somewhere in the middle, as if she’d been lounging there for hours.

I wasn’t fooled.

“Long time no see, Ghita. Eavesdropping on people’s conversations is rude, you know.”

Ghita had inherited the short stature of most Mariano women, but with the added benefit of more curves. She also kept her dark hair in a modernly short, asymmetrical cut that made the traditional members of their family click their tongues in disapproval.

She set her book aside, not bothering to mark her page as she gave up the innocent act.

“I don’t need to eavesdrop. It’s obvious just from the look on your face. You aren’t taking this threat seriously. Someone tried to kill you tonight, and they’re certainly going to try the same thing with your father.”

Despite being a year older than me, when Ghita stood she only reached the center of my chest. I ruffled her hair in the way I knew she hated, just to see her pout.

“This isn’t the first time Father’s ended up on the wrong side of the law. It’s an occupational hazard in this family, but he always manages to wriggle his way out, in the end. Just you wait. In a few weeks the charges will be dropped, he’ll be out of jail again, and everything will return to status quo. Besides... ” In my hand I still held the recently cleaned knife. I twirled it between my fingers like a butterfly darting between flower petals. “I’m not exactly helpless.”

With quick, precise movements, Ghita plucked the knife from my grip and tossed it over her shoulder. The sharp blade planted point first in the wall. “Still, I’d feel better if I knew you were taking this seriously. At least get some extra security in case you’re attacked again.”

Bits of drywall floated to the floor when I retrieved my knife. “Fine. I need a new bodyguard anyway. But this time I’m choosing them myself. The last one was a major disappointment.”

I could tell my cousin still wasn’t happy, but she seemed to realize further arguing would be pointless and let the matter drop.

“Fine. Better than nothing. But if you get killed, I swear I won’t grieve at your funeral.”

Just for my own amusement, I ruffled her hair again. “Sure you won’t. I’ll see you later, GeeGee.”

She gnashed her teeth at me as she smoothed her hair back into place. It was a good sign for me to leave before I lost a hand.

A few dozen yards away, the hall opened into the front foyer. Here, I stopped and looked up at the large painting that hung above the door. It showed me when I was younger, standing beside my father who sat on a wingback chair. My mother was positioned just behind us, one hand on her husband’s shoulder. Although created only fifteen years ago when I was ten, it was styled to look like an antique oil painting.

Everything about the image was fake.

---