Page 38 of Relentless Refuge

“What did she say?” I ask, my tone so commanding it draws the answer from his lips against his will.

“She said, the heir to the throne will not be subjected to the Romano name. He will be raised in our home with our blood in his veins and we will partner with the enemy to overcome the Romanos.”

My heart stands still for a moment. An heir? She’s pregnant? “She said that?” I ask again sternly, knowing she would never do that to me. She can’t.

He takes a deep breath and sighs hard. “The Family is one now, bound in blood. We are obligated to follow wherever she leads, and right now, we need her back or no one gets an heir.”

His words are callous, and I know it’s not the end of the line for this conflict, but for the first time, we are united with the same goal and ready to move. I look to Warren, who hangs up the call with Schuler and looks directly at me.

“Sir, we know where she is.” Warren’s tone is resolute.

“Men,” I say, bolstering their courage, “we’re going to war to get our queen. No one backs down. I want no cowards. This could be the end of your life or the beginning of the best alliance we’ve ever seen. Who’s with me?”

A chorus of shouts goes up, and as I head out the door toward the front of the house, I hear the echo of dozens of footsteps following me. They won’t even know what hit them. We’ll go in with precision and take back what rightfully is ours, and this war ends tonight.

Or blood will be shed—a lot of it.

28

ISABELLA

I’m surprised that as soon as the call is made he doesn’t take my phone away. It must be an act of trust on his part, but it’s foolish. I calmly set it on the table in front of me and relax. Marco will get the message loud and clear, and hopefully, Chase and Owen will understand that despite the issues between the Families and within our own, I am the leader and they need to follow my orders.

“And that’s it? Your Family will listen to you?” He takes a cigar from his inner jacket pocket, then trims and lights it. As I watch the smoke drift upward through the air, I find myself thankful Marco doesn’t smoke like this often. Some men make a habit of it daily, and the stench is enough to make me want to vomit again.

“They know my orders.” My stomach is tied in knots, and I hope the knot is strong enough to hold down what’s left of the food I’ve ingested and my nerves too. When Marco comes in with guns blazing, I’ll have only seconds to react and respond. I’ve never practiced for scenarios like this. I’ve always assumed whenmen came into circumstances out of their control, some natural instinct kicked in and they just knew what to do.

Now I’m wondering if I need to be training my men like they do at the police academy or SWAT team. Tactical preparedness was never a thing I had to think of. My mind races as I try to decide in this situation what would my men need? What should I be thinking about?

“Good, then we have an agreement?” he asks, but he offers no hand to shake on it. I freeze up for a moment because while honesty is my policy, I can’t honestly tell this man we have an agreement. If I say that, he will definitely hold me to it, and I will have made an enemy of him myself, rather than in proxy as an agent of Marco’s family.

So I say the most diplomatic answer I can. “Everything is set and my men follow my orders.”

He offers a grunt of what I can only assume is agreement, and my mind goes to work planning as he begins to prattle off ways we can be beneficial to each other. I try to listen, but mostly, I tune him out. I’m assuming he has a gun under his jacket somewhere, one in his boot too. They took my gun from me when they yanked me off the side of the road, so I’m unarmed.

There were three men who brought me here—three guards to defeat, though only one of them has been in this room since I arrived. The others may be out there somewhere watching, though they may also have left at some point. And there is no telling how many people are in this place outside of that. I saw a gun on each hip I passed, including the woman who cleaned my vomit.

“You seem troubled, dear.” He leans forward and blows a steady stream of smoke in my direction. “You don’t need to worry about Romano. In no time, my men will have him restrained, subdued, and…” He pauses, smiling as if trying to find a way to say what he wants to say tactfully. “Neutralized.”

My blood boils at the thought of this man touching my husband, and now he’s promising to kill him. He thinks removing Marco is something that will make me happy. He has no idea the bond we’ve formed and how I care for him, that his words are angering me, not putting me at ease.

“It’s difficult to relax and be calm when someone plucks you from the street and absconds with you. I was on my way to meet my Family for an important meeting.” I hope his men told him how I was escaping out the back of Marco’s property, not walking out the front door. It will lend credibility to my “unhappiness” and help him believe I really have made an agreement with him.

“My apologies, I was under the assumption that you were escaping because you were unhappy there.” He leans forward, and as he does, his suit coat parts in front, revealing his gun tucked beneath his armpit in a shoulder holster. I try not to stare at it, but it’s my salvation—the way out of here for me. I just have to bide my time.

“All is forgiven…” But not forgotten. This man murdered my father, and I won’t take that lying down. He will pay. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

“Good, then. It’s important to me that my allies are kept happy.” He nods at the door where a guard stands watch, and the man disappears. It’s my chance to make a move. With only one of them, I have a better chance at success.

“How happy would you like to make me, Mr. Kozlov?” Putting on my best fake seductive tone, I rise from my seat slowly and smooth my jeans, then walk around the table.

“Well, Ms. D’Angelo, that’s up to you. What sort of arrangement are you thinking of making with me?” His devilish smirk as I lower myself closer to his weapon and his lap is a look I will never forget. It makes my skin crawl. Bile rises in my throat, but all I can think about is getting that gun.

And then in the distance, I hear the faint sound of shouting. I know it’s Marco and my Family. My gut tells me it’s him out there, coming to get me. Without hesitation, I reach for his gun, disarming him and putting it under his chin in one swift movement.

“You sick bastard, you’re going to pay for this,” I snarl as I step around behind him, keeping the gun on his head the whole time. “Keep your hands in the air.” I drop to my knees behind him, knowing when his guards storm in, they will come from the door in the corner of the room and he will be my meat shield.

“Listen, you bitch, we had an agreement.” Kozlov has his hands up, but given the chance, he’ll reach for his gun in his boot.

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