Page 29 of Dangerous Secrets

“No…” I say again, this time louder and it earns me a hard back hand. Mickey isn’t playing around. I whimper and cover my cheek and he backs away. I can’t look him in the eye again, not with the way I’m feeling. “I’ll do it.” I grit my teeth and hold my face, and watch him as he twists the silencer off the end of his gun and pockets it, then holsters his gun on his hip.

“You said that before, Bianca. I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

I shoot to my feet, and square off with him, hands fisted at my side. In my periphery I see Soren turn as if to defend one of us—I’m not sure which. “I’ll do it myself. You hired me to do this fucking job, then stay the fuck out of my way and let me do it.”

Mickey’s chin rises slowly. He looks down his nose at me and purses his lips. He doesn’t even reach for his gun again. He calmly buttons his coat and I watch his nostrils flare as he narrows his eyes. His tongue glides along his teeth beneath his lip and he takes a deep breath and lets his chest relax.

“Two days. If they aren’t dead in two days, I will do the hit myself and you will die with them.” His jaw is set, his expression firm.

“I understand.”

Two days. I’ve bought Rome two days at the most. I watch as Mickey turns and exits the room, leaving me alone with Soren. The silence is deafening, and I can feel Soren's eyes on me, but I can't bring myself to look at him. I'm too ashamed of what just happened.

"Bianca," Soren finally speaks up, breaking the silence, "what the hell was that?"

I let out a sigh and slump back down into my chair. "I don't know," I admit, "I just couldn't take it anymore. The constant threats and the way he looks at me like I'm just some disposable pawn in his game. I'm so sick of it."

Soren nods, his expression softening. "I get it," he says, "but you can't let your emotions get the best of you. That's not how we operate."

I know he's right, but I can't help the way I feel. I've been working for Mickey for years and it's been nothing but fear and intimidation. But Soren's words hit me like a ton of bricks. He's right, I can't let my emotions get in the way of the job. I take a deep breath and look up at him. "I know," I say, "I'll get it together. I just need to figure out a plan."

He moves toward the door as if on autopilot. For him this is just another day. Roman Gusev is just another hit. But to me it's a life altering decision, and no one even knows. As Soren leaves the room, I sit there for a few moments, letting his words sink in. I know that I need to get my emotions in check, but it's easier said than done. I've spent years working for Mickey, doing his dirty work, and it's taken a toll on me. But I can't let that show, not now.

I take a deep breath and stand up, steadying myself. I know what I need to do. I need to focus on the job at hand, warn Rome, and then figure out my next move. I walk over to the window and look out at the city below. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the streets. It's a beautiful sight, but it may be the last time I get to see it, at least from this dressing room.

I turn back to the room and start to gather my things. I check my gun, making sure it's loaded and ready. I take a deep breath and head out the door. The club is bustling with activity as I make my way through the crowd. The bass from the music is vibrating through my body, but I try to keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

I can't defy Mickey, but I can give Rome a head start. And I can't tell Rome about the baby either, or he'll hunt me down when I run. The best I can do is give Rome's family a chance to prepare and leave no trail when I vanish. It's a cruel twist of fate that the man I'm meant to kill is also the father of my child. I feel a pang of guilt and regret wash over me, but I push it aside as I head into the night and turn toward the subway.

The subway car is filled with people, but I keep to myself, lost in thought. I can't believe that I'm pregnant with Rome's child. The thought of him never seeing our baby fills me with sadness. But I have to be strong, for both of us. As the subway car lurches forward, I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. Maybe it's the pregnancy, or maybe it's the fear that's been building inside me for years. Either way, I can't let it get the best of me now. I need to focus, to stay sharp.

I get off at my stop and make my way through the dimly lit streets. The air is thick with the scent of garbage and cigarettes. I pull my hoodie tighter around me, trying to ward off the chill. I have two days to warn Rome and leave the city, and that's exactly what I have to do.

If I don't, we all die, including my unborn baby.

19

ROME

It's been twenty-four hours since those goons in the alley chased me off. I can't get the scent of that perfume out of my nostrils. I keep tossing it around in my head but nothing makes sense. I sit behind the counter in the bookstore watching footage from the other night when she interrupted my meeting with Dominic. Right down to the minute inflections on her face, I'm watching—studying her for any clue that might help me. My heart refuses to believe Bianca could know anything about the assassin, but my mind urges me to be cautious.

I take a deep breath and try to push the thoughts out of my mind. The bookstore is empty, and I'm grateful for the peace and quiet. I review the footage again, this time focusing on the moment Bianca walked in. Her eyes were intense, her posture rigid. She seemed almost afraid. Suddenly, it hits me: maybe she wasn't trying to protect me from Dominic's goons, but instead was trying to protect herself from something else. Maybe she has someone breathing down her neck too, someone who scares her.

The musty smell of old books lingers in the air, a scent that moves into my nose and down into my lungs, but it doesn't replace the scent of saffron and sage, implanted on my memory so deeply I'll never forget. It's the scent of death, the smell of murder. A telephone rings somewhere in the store, but I ignore it, focusing on the screen.

We had hot sex. It was incredible, but rather than staying to talk to me, when it was over she rushed out. She'd come for a purpose, so why didn't she stay? Why leave so quickly like that? "Why did you come here that night?" I whisper into the darkness of the store.

Dom will meet me here soon. I have to tell him my suspicions, even if he orders me to kill her. I won't—not unless I have proof that she is L'ombra, that she shot my brother Matty. My father is right; I must honor my family—my blood. Which means if my heart is wrong and Bianca is the killer we are hunting, my heart has taken a double edged sword and run itself through. Because to kill her will mean I kill a part of my soul.

A noise snaps me out of my thoughts. I straighten, knowing I'm here alone with only one gun and only one clip of nine rounds. I think to call out but Dominic would announce himself. Besides he'd use the front door and the bell would ring. This noise is different, a shuffling coming from the back room. I reach for the gun hidden in my waistband, praying that I won't have to use it.

I rise and slowly make my way toward the back room. The darkness envelops me, and I can barely see anything in front of me. I stop for a moment and listen, trying to determine if the shuffling noise is getting closer.

"Who's there?" I call out, but no one answers, and I realize that whoever is there is trying to be as quiet as possible. I grip my gun tighter and take a deep breath continuing forward. It may or may not be as simple as a homeless person looking for a warm place to sleep tonight; it wouldn't be the first time that happened. But given how silent this person is, I'd wager it’s L'ombra come back to finish what she started on the street.

As I approach the back room, the shuffling noise becomes louder, and I can hear someone breathing. I hold my breath, waiting for them to make their move. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the darkness, and I raise my gun, ready to shoot. The figure freezes mid-step, hands raised in surrender. It's a woman, and she's wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans. I can't see her face, but I recognize the way she moves. It's L'ombra. And the scent of her perfume invades my sinuses again; there is no mistaking her.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice low and steady. I could shoot her now, get it over with, but I'd never forgive myself if I shot and killed Bianca without a fair fight. Without hearing from her lips why she'd try to kill my brother, why she'd kill so many of my men.

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