Page 10 of Curse of the Bride Assassin

I slowly walk through the kitchen, discreetly peeking out the windows with my magnified vampire sight. I don’t see anything suspicious. Nor do I hear anything. Vincenzo takes a seat at the table, and I sit next to him to keep up appearances, but I stay on high alert. The most important things my parents taught me in our line of work is to stay vigilant and trust your gut instinct.

“How long will we stay here?” I ask him to make conversation.

“A few hours? Possibly longer. As soon as I get the all clear, we can drop you off at your place. Then we can meet back up in the morning to go to brunch, buy a ring, and pick a date.”

Fuck. My car is at the restaurant. I can’t let him drop me off at my house—that’s a dead giveaway of my real identity. I take a long sip of my wine to give myself a moment to think of a suitable reply, but am saved by another bullet.

I roll onto the ground, hiding under the table. Vincenzo stands up, scanning the room for the shooter. Another bullet whizzes through the air, followed by one that lodges itself into the table leg. I’d recognize that kind of bullet anywhere–a silver-tipped blood buster. If used correctly, they can kill vampires andwerewolves. Lucky for us, whoever shot the first two bullets has awful aim.

A man dressed in a plain black suit with a gray shirt speeds into the room at superhuman speed, pointing a gun directly at Vincenzo. His short buzzed hair and regular stature don’t look familiar to me. Judging by his flawless skin, speed, and pointed canines, he’s a vampire. Of course I wouldn’t have heard him, because he doesn’t have a pulse.

I focus on him, then unleash my wail. Not at full volume–I don’t want to hurt Vincenzo–but it’s loud enough that the shooter falls to his knees, screaming in agony as he tries to cover his ears. I can drive someone crazy, injure them, or kill them depending on the note and volume I use.

Once he falls to the floor, I stop. Vincenzo takes his belt off and uses it to restrain the man. It takes every measure of self control I have not to daydream about what else he can do with his belt.

“You only have about five minutes. The volume I used will only incapacitate,” I warn him.

“Good thinking. Now I can question why one of my own soldiers is shooting at us,” Vincenzo seethes. “Benito has worked for the Conti family for years, since my father was head of thefamiglia.”

What the fuck? Why would one of his own attack him?

Vincenzo hoists Benito into a chair, then slaps him hard enough that his neck bends at an unnatural angle. He sputters awake, flinching when he sees Vincenzo’s grimace.

His cold eyes, tight jaw, and dipped brows are a complete one-eighty from the playful expression he had at the restaurant, though no less attractive.

“Explain why you shot at me,now,” he orders with an air of authority I didn’t think he was capable of.

Benito shakes his head. “No. I’ll die before I talk to you. Fuck off.”

He stands closer, crouching down so he’s eye level with his captive. “You’re going to tell me who sent you, and why, or I’ll make my wife wail again. This time she’ll kill you slowly. Make your ears bleed and your head split open. Your choice.”

Vincenzo’s compulsion is direct, and powerful enough that I feel it. Benito tries to bite his lips, but it’s no use.

“Your uncle. He wants you dead so he can take his rightful place as Don.”

“How many people work with him? Are you getting outside help?” I ask with a heavy compulsion before catching myself.

“Ten in the family. We got the blood buster bullets from the Furrocious werewolf pack.”

So someone put a hit on Mario, who wants to kill his nephew for the top spot. He’s getting support from a rival pack. And somehow this is all relevant to my mom.Interesting.

“I’ll deal with the werewolves later,” Vincenzo says. He takes Benito's gun, checking the barrel and narrowing his gaze when he sees the bullets.

He closes the chamber, locks and loads the gun, then aims at Benito's heart. “Now may be a good time to turn around, beautiful.”

I comply to keep up my cover, praying that he’ll forget my slip up.

“Enjoy the rest of your short life, Vincenzo. Your uncle is the true leader of the family, and he won’t stop until you're dead,” Benito cackles like a deranged maniac. “And you…” looks at me with a sneer on his face. “You’re a dead woman walking.”

I don’t see the bullet hit him, but I hear it pierce his skin. I hear his screams of agony. I smell the coppery aroma of blood. Risking a peek, I see that Vincenzo shot him in the stomach.

Benito isn’t dead yet. He’s bleeding out, back on the floor and eyes staring straight into the ceiling.

“Change of plans. We’re going to my house in the Hamptons,” he informs me. “We need to go off grid for our own safety, lay low until I know who I can trust aside from my second and a few loyal guards. I’ll arrange for them to have things delivered to the house for us.”

He takes my hand, squeezing it tight enough that my fingers almost crack. He opens my car door and folds me in, fastening my seatbelt right across my chest. When he climbs in, he peels out of the driveway and furiously drives to the highway.

The first twenty minutes of our ride is spent in total silence. His hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. I can feel his anger like a pressure building in the car, pressing against everything until it explodes.

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