Page 49 of His to Keep
“Your mother would never forgive you if…” Lorenzo trails off mid-sentence. He stands up straighter. “We have company. Grab the girls.”
I don’t need to check out the threat for myself. If Lorenzo says we have a problem, I trust that he’s correct. I fling open the curtain separating the dressing area from the rest of the shop. Eilidh is standing there in only a bra and panties.
“Get dressed. We need to move.”
Rosalia looks startled, but Eilidh doesn’t hesitate. She pulls her dress on over her head and slips her feet into the tennis shoes she wore since she knew she’d be walking a fair bit today.
Lorenzo appears in the room, his gun drawn.
“I’ve called Damiano, but he’s twenty minutes away. We need to get out of here.”
I take my own Heckler and Koch P30 from the waistband of my jeans and follow my cousin as he heads through the store until we come to a fire exit. It leads into a back alley where we have to squeeze past dumpsters to get to the street. We both conceal our guns as we step out into public view. It’s impossible to get back to our car, which is parked outside the store we just left, so we walk quickly in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” Eilidh hisses.
“I know a place,” Lorenzo assures her. “You will be safe there until backup arrives.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Some cars pulled up outside the boutique. The men in them were not ours,” Lorenzo explains. “I suspect they were Russians.”
Blending in with the crowd, made up largely of groups of tourists, we walk for two blocks. A black SUV crawls along the road toward us, the passenger scanning the streets.
“This way.” Lorenzo ducks down a narrow side street.
We come to an apartment block. Lorenzo presses the buzzer, speaks to the woman who responds in rapid fire Italian and the door swings open. We make our way upstairs to the third floor. The building is old, the staircase narrow and winding. When we get to the top, the door to one of three apartments on this level is open.
“A friend lives here.” Lorenzo explains as we head inside. “We can stay until Damiano arrives.”
As we follow my cousin along the corridor, Eilidh grips my hand tightly. I squeeze reassuringly, but my confidence that everything will be alright vanishes as we step into the living room. A young woman with hair closer to blonde than brown sits on the sofa. She’s pretty, but I don’t have time to wonder who she is. A man stands behind her, dressed in an expensive black suit. A gun rests on the back of the sofa beneath his hand, the back of which is tattooed with the distinctive skull and dagger insignia of the Barevsky Bratva.
Both Lorenzo and I draw our guns, but the man doesn’t raise his.
“Let’s put our weapons away, gentlemen.” His accent betrays the merest hint of a Russian accent. “I mean you no harm.”
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Adan Barevsky.”
I tense and Lorenzo stiffens next to me.
“What do you want?” Lorenzo asks.
Adan’s eyes slide to Eilidh. Instinctively, I step in front of her. The Russian smirks.
“Calm yourself, Mr. Volante. I merely wish to talk.” He lifts his hand off his gun and steps away. “PerhapsSignorinaLazzaro would be good enough to make us some coffee?”
The young woman on the sofa looks to Lorenzo for guidance. When he nods, she gets up and walks through a door on the right of the room, shooting my cousin a filthy glare as she passes. I know now that this is Lucia Lazzaro, the young chef Lorenzo has been pursuing.
“Now.” Adan motions toward the sofas set on either side of a low wooden coffee table. “Shall we sit? We have much to discuss.”
CHAPTER 17
Eilidh
The tension in the room is palpable as I take a seat on the sofa. Gio sits next to me while Lorenzo positions himself behind us, leaning against the wall. Although Adan and Gio have both put their weapons away, Lorenzo holds his gun by his side. He doesn’t trust the Russian. Neither of the men do. I guess they’ve both run into problems with the Bratva before. Semion Barevsky aside, I haven’t met many members of the Russian Mafia. While I can’t say I trust Adan fully, I don’t get a bad vibe off him.
“Rosalia, why don’t you go and help with the coffee?” I suggest. The poor girl is wringing her hands nervously. I doubt she expected to run into the Russian Mafia when she agreed to come shopping with me. I hope the Volantes pay her well. She definitely deserves a massive bonus this Christmas.
