Page 13 of Twisted Embrace

I remained fixated on that word. So much so I’d envisioned the kind of images only seen in horror movies. Only I knew what Enzo was capable of was very real.

And very bloody.

Although at this moment, I was almost ready to buy into his world where danger and carnage were merely facts of daily life. I continued to shiver, even though my apartment was warm given the high humidity. True to form, the man named Federico had easily broken into my apartment, refusing to allow me to contact the maintenance man who worked in the building. I guess their whereabouts and identities couldn’t be exposed.

My God. The drama was unreal.

And the bastard had called me a princess. I’d wanted to slap the smirk off his face. Maybe I would the next time I saw him.

I tossed the handful of mail onto my kitchen counter, drumming my fingers on the surface as I debated coffee or something much stronger.

Stronger won out.

I yanked a glass from the cabinet then the bottle of vodka from underneath. I almost ripped the hinges off the refrigerator in my attempt to grab the carton of orange juice. Then I looked at my ruddy stained hands and groaned before turning on the water. The blood was even caked under my fingernails.

A single tear slipped past my lashes as I scrubbed my hands, almost tearing the railing off the wall when I grabbed the hand towel.

After making a strong screwdriver, I leaned against the counter. How had this happened?

I stared at the stack of mail, my mind continuing to be an angry blur. I wasn’t certain how to cope with everything that had occurred. The drink was tasty, but had little effect on the edginess, my stomach still in knots. Enzo. He’d seemed so distant, every word out of his mouth dripping of sarcasm. Just imagining they were related by blood almost made me laugh. Lucia was like a sparkling light, her exuberance for life catching. The brusque man was the epitome of dark, so much so he cast a shadow.

“Ridiculous.” The word was mumbled and I placed the drink on the counter, grabbing the stack of mail. At least I could accomplish an easy task. Junk. Junk. And more junk. Given I paid almost everything online and none of my friends wrote letters, pretty much every piece of mail would be tossed into the trash.

The last piece grabbed at my attention. It was a handwritten envelope, the return address a post office box with no name. I tossed the others before sliding my nail under the glued flap, fighting to get it open. Inside were folded pages, although the sender hasn’t used copy paper. Someone had taken the time to use stationery. When I opened the flaps, I scanned it before reading, shifting to the third and final page.

The name on the bottom I didn’t recognize, but the salutation sent a wave of ice into my veins.

The last two words would haunt me for a long time to come.

Your father

* * *

Enzo

In a city of millions, someone on the run should easily fade into the shadows, never to be found. However, I’d learned a long time ago that everyone had a price. I’d been around men who’d sold off their daughters to square a gambling debt, another who’d turned traitor against his father, watching as the man who’d spawned him was slaughtered.

I’d known it was only a matter of time before a trail was secured.

Within a few hours, a name had been presented. While my soldier had spent a large sum of money in obtaining it, in my mind it was well worth the price. What I’d also learned over the years is that men liked to boast, especially when it came to catching an enemy off guard. It was usually only a matter of time before a trail would be paved in gold leading to the person responsible for treachery.

I’d had it occur within my own organization only once, the poor fucker believing he could betray me and get away with it. He’d learned that my wrath had been worse than any nightmare he’d ever experienced. I only hoped he was enjoying his time spent in hell.

While it wasn’t always in my best interest to kill a member of another syndicate given they would retaliate, this was about my sister’s life. Lucia and I had never seen eye to eye on the business. We weren’t close and likely never would be, but she was blood and that meant something. I’d taken an oath to protect her and that was going to stand.

People would die for endangering her life and that of her baby. They would be cut to ribbons, sent back to the asshole responsible in boxes. And I’d enjoy minute of making it happen.

I entered the man’s home without knocking, Anthony right behind me. The man in question hadn’t been touched. I wanted him completely lucid and fully able to comprehend what he was facing if he didn’t provide the truth. There was a reason my sister had been targeted. While I suspected it was because of D’Artagnan’s recent rise to power and the fact I was now in a greater position to wreak havoc within the United States, my gut told me there was an underlying motivation for risking igniting a war.

The execution of the hit had been sloppy, which indicated a rash decision. If my instinct was correct and the Bratva were behind the attempted assassination, they’d done so with the knowledge my men would be surrounding the venue. Maybe their intentions had been a warning and nothing else, a display of power, but the end result had incited a rift that required retaliation.

I stood to the side, staring at the treacherous son of a bitch, noticing the amusement in his eyes. It was entirely possible he’d been labeled expendable, my men supposed to locate him with little issue. If the Pakhan wanted to play games, he had no idea the opponent he’d selected would eventually crush him like a bug.

“His name is Dimitri,” Anthony said quietly.

I nodded then advanced toward the couch, keeping my weapon in both hands but lowered. When I was two feet away, I took a deep breath. “Dimitri. It seems we have an issue.”

“I don’t know you.” His English was spectacular, his Russian accent barely noticeable. That meant he’d grown up in the States, another indication he was low on the totem pole. I planted one foot on the edge of the couch, leaning on my knee as I peered down at him.

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