Page 19 of Lord of Little Italy

I keep my breathing steady, my body limp, listening. Four distinct breathing patterns. One pacing - nervous energy, heavy footsteps. Two by what sounds like a door - quieter, probably armed. And one closer to me - the leader, from how the others defer to his movements.

Rookie mistake - they should have checked me for weapons before tying me to this chair. I can still feel my knife strapped to my thigh, hidden by my dress. The ropes around my wrists are amateur work too. Already loosening.

Time to get a look at these idiots.

The room comes into focus as I open my eyes - second floor of a warehouse, broken windows, one door. Moonlight and distant street lamps cast enough light to see clearly. Two men by thedoor with Uzis, two more in the room. The nervous pacer has an Uzi too, held wrong. The leader just has a handgun - Glock, well-maintained at least.

I catalog escape routes. Door. Windows - risky but doable if necessary. Air duct in the corner, probably too small. The floor seems solid, but there might be weak spots.

"Look who's awake," says the leader. Dark hair, expensive watch, face I remember from the coffee shop last week. He was reading a newspaper, watching me over the top of it. Sloppy surveillance. "Sorry about the head, princess. Had to make sure you stayed quiet for the ride."

I roll my neck, assessing. No serious damage. Just pissed off. And ready to make them regret every decision that led them here.

"I saw you the other day," I say, keeping my voice bored but letting a slight tremor show. Scared little girl, in over her head. "Coffee shop guy. Though you looked better from a distance. Those eyebrows are tragic up close."

His jaw tightens. Perfect. Men like him hate being mocked, especially by women they think are beneath them.

"Careful, princess. Your brother and your boyfriend aren't here to protect you now."

I raise an eyebrow, testing the ropes behind my back. Almost loose enough. "Boyfriend?"

"Rivera." He spits the name. So they've been watching. Studying patterns, relationships, weaknesses. Almost professional.

Almost.

"Tony Rivera?" I laugh, making it sharp and mocking. "Please. He's just my brother's ally. Though I'm flattered you think I could land a man like that." The words taste bitter. Another memory - Tony pulling away after our kiss, choosing duty over what we both wanted. Well, he can stew in that regret a while longer.

The second coffee shop guy - shorter, nervous energy - shifts his grip on his Uzi. "Boss, maybe we should—"

"Shut up." Tall guy moves closer. Wrong move. Getting in striking distance of a prisoner? Basic mistake. "Your brother's going to pay big to get you back. Rivera too, from how he sounded on the phone. Men like that, they get stupid when someone touches their women."

I smile, letting some of my real amusement show. "You called Tony?"

"Few minutes ago. He didn't sound happy."

"I bet he didn't." I glance at the nervous one. "How long did you train with that weapon? Your grip's all wrong. You'll shatter your wrist if you fire on full auto. Here, look—" I demonstrate with my shoulders, making them focus on my upper body while my hands work the last of the ropes free.

He blinks, adjusts his hold. The other two by the door exchange glances. Good. Keep them off balance, questioning themselves.

"Enough," Tall Guy snaps. "You think you're clever, princess? Think you can play mind games?"

"I think you're in over your head." I meet his eyes. "I think you didn't do your homework. And I think you really should have checked me for weapons."

He grabs my throat, exactly like I knew he would. Men like him, they hate being challenged by a woman. "Listen you little—"

The hand I've worked free grabs my knife. But I don't need it yet. Instead, I drive my forehead into his nose.

The crunch is satisfying. So is his howl of pain.

He staggers back as I burst from the chair, ropes falling away. The nervous one raises his Uzi but he's too slow - always too slow. I'm already moving, the knife a distraction in my right hand while my left takes him down with a strike to the throat.

Tony taught me that move. Said I was a natural. His hands on my shoulders, adjusting my stance, his breath warm on my neck...

Focus.

The two by the door finally react, bringing their weapons up. But they're too close together, getting in each other's way. Sloppy. You never bunch up like that in a firefight. Basic stuff.

I drop and sweep, taking out both their legs. One Uzi skitters away. The other fires into the ceiling as I disarm its owner with a wrist lock that would make my combat instructor proud.

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