Page 28 of Unbound

Jesus. If we went walking on sunshine, we’d be dead. I’m surrounded by fucking lunatics.

My phone beeps, and I check my messages. Read the updates, listen to a couple of voicemails. Nod in satisfaction. The plan worked. My callout to the other Coscas worked. I hadn’t been sure if they’d be willing to listen. If they’d trust me enough to help, or even if they’d care enough. But I’d been right; none of them wanted the exposure that multiple massacres would have brought. The family who died here tonight will attract attention, but it will be of an acceptable level. We have contacts in law enforcement, ways to cover up. It’s not the first time we’ve needed to, won’t be the last. The Goliath mountain lion attacks are still playing out on the news, and this will be talked about for a few days, but eventually, it will fade. Be replaced with the next horror or something really important like Taylor Swift’s wedding. But four big killings on the same night? That would have been too much. It would have attracted more Yvonne Marshalls, and fuck knows one of her is enough.

I wait for the song to finish and shout through to the front of the cab. “Two casualties in London. Young couple coming home from the pub, caught before the Milano UK team got there. All good in Griffith Park, at least they think so, difficult to tell in that place with those people. Columbia was the worst hit. They made it into the bar, had already started when the Roma squad arrived. Seven dead, some injuries, a lot of fucking charming and bribing going on. But there were almost forty people in that place, so it could have been a lot worse.”

Rosa nods grimly. “Well, that’s as good as it could have been, I guess. Did any of the other Dons or their men know anything about Serena, about this game?”

“No. But it’s unlikely to be something aimed at Cosca soldiers. They’re too disciplined to kill like this. To kill in a way that could damage the family.”

I don’t bother lying and saying that Cosca soldiers wouldn’t kill for fun or take pleasure in ending human life. She knows that’s not true. She met Vincenzo, and although a lot of his most depraved followers were taken out during the coup, she’s not stupid. She knows he was immoral, corrupt, evil. And that shit rolls downhill. The truth is that most Cosca vamps don’t give a crap about humans, other than using them for food, for money, sometimes for sex. There are vampires who live in the human world, who pass, who are comfortable pretending to be something they’re not. Fuck, maybe they’re not pretending—maybe some vamps are as bighearted as Rosa, clinging to their old integrity. But in the Coscas? Humans are not a priority, and humans at our courts tend to have a very short life span or end up like Freya. Slightly fried. Fuck, Freya … I’m glad she was staying with Minnie while all this played out; she’d have been worried sick.

“Did you notice their T-shirts?” Donna asks, turning around to grin at us.

I nod. Different colors, but each of them bearing a printed-on cartoon of a hyena with blood dripping from its jaws. The fucking idiots must have actually had those made.

“Yeah. We took out the Laughing Hyenas.”

“They didn’t seem to find anything much to laugh about at the end,” she replies, sounding satisfied. “I really, really enjoyed that, guys. I’m a bit hyper now. Does anybody feel like drinking? Maybe dancing?”

“It’s six in the morning!” Rosa says, laughing at her friend.

“But isn’t this the city that never sleeps? We worked hard. We should play hard.”

Matteo grins at her. “I know a place.”

I meet Rosa’s eyes in the mirror, and she raises her brows. I can feel the “told you so” from here. I leave them to their mindless chatter and their plans and do some work on my phone. I get it. The way the mind and body react to extreme action. Riding the crest of the adrenalin wave, wanting to delay the inevitable comedown. I’ve been fighting for hundreds of years, and I’ve seen thousands of people react exactly this way—something about being so close to death makes life seem so much more enticing. Me? Been there, done that, have emails to reply to. Yeah. Fucking emails. How did this happen? I’m not cut out for this. Once things are stabilized at the Firenze court, once we’re safe, I need to make some changes. I’m damn sure Vincenzo didn’t deal with all this bureaucratic bullshit.

And that, I remind myself, is exactly why I need to. I have to be different than him.

I tell Aidan I’ll be back soon. He’s had no luck finding this secret dungeon beneath the garden, so maybe it doesn’t even exist. Maybe Yvonne was full of shit. He’s called off the search now; it’s too light out. That garden is full-on sunshine; there’s no way that we can get our men to go out there, not for any length of time. Fuck it. I make another call to one of the building contractors in the area. It’s owned by the human Mafia, and they know me well enough not to argue or ask questions when I tell them what I want. I arrange to meet them there and hang up. I can stand more light exposure than most, and there are ways around it. I almost fried when I rescued Rosa’s dumb-ass brother from his sadly failed suicide attempt, feeding the asshole my blood while the Chicago sun beat down on me. Saved by umbrellas and baseball caps.

I lean back against the walls of the van. Close my eyes for a second. Fuck, I’m tired. It’s all eating away at me—the responsibility, the brain-numbing dullness, the constant fucking low-level anxiety about which prick is next going to jump out of a cupboard and scream “challenge” at me. The knowledge that the other Cosca families are eyeing us up like a piece of meat. Tomasso and his sick games. Mainly, beneath all of that, her. My Rosa. My love. My life. I know she will leave if that’s what she decides is best, and I know I must let her. Tonight has reminded me of what she is, of her own power, and I need to cling to that. She can look after herself, and she’s right—she needs answers. We need answers. I just fucking hate the thought of being away from her.

We’ve been at each other’s sides ever since we first met, give or take a few false starts. I cannot imagine my days without her, and I do not want to. I will miss her, pure and simple. Even without the inevitable drama and conflict and fear, there is the plain and still surprising truth that I am happy when she is near. Every moment I’m not with her feels wasted, and I spend every single one of those moments wishing I was back in her arms. If it was up to me, I’d have her tied to my body twenty-four hours a day and never let her out of my sight. Always have her close enough to touch, to hold, to love.

It’s fierce, this feeling. Possessive, deep, overwhelming—but also sweet and tender. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my very long life. And now I know it’s not just some bullshit spell, I’m even more shocked that this is happening to me. Shocked and scared. The Coscas, Tomasso, every single enemy I’ve ever faced? They mean nothing. Don Vincenzo himself could reanimate and come for me, and I wouldn’t give a shit. The only thing I’m scared of is losing her.

I glance at the front of the van. She’s tied her hair up in a pony, and it’s left a streak of blood down the back of her neck. My cock twitches in response. My mind buzzes a little, that tiny static shock that tells me she wants in.

I can feel your eyes on me, she says, without speaking a word out loud. What are you thinking?

That you need a shower. That you need someone to scrub your back.

She smirks slightly, amused, but her pulse also speeds up. Yeah? Think you’re up to the job? You look pretty beat.

Not so beat I can’t fuck you till you scream, carissima. I will prove it to you when we get home.

I’ll hold you to it.

We are playing, bantering, flirting. But beneath all of that, I can sense that she feels the same as I do—sad at the thought of us parting. Nobody ever warns you that love turns you into the world’s biggest wuss.

We pull up outside the Brooklyn house, wanting to check in with Pietro and shower before we do anything else. Especially shower. I only have a couple of hours tops, and I plan to make good use of them. Matteo and I grab the reflective foil blankets we keep in the van, and wait for Rosa’s thumbs-up, telling us there’s nobody walking by. This is New York; in all likelihood nobody would bat an eye at two huge men running along the sidewalk holding foil over their heads, but it’s better to avoid questions if you can. She pauses, looking confused. Her hand wanders to the stake she has tucked into her jacket pocket, and she glances back at me. Her nostrils flare, and I know she’s scenting something. Donna strides purposefully over to the doorway, blooded hair hidden in her hood.

“What the fuck?” Matteo asks. “There’s somebody there?”

We’re both on high alert, both ready to leap out and fight no matter what time of day it is, but Donna looks back at Rosa, giving her the signal. Rosa looks back up at us. “Um … it’s Yvonne.”

For. Fuck’s. Sake. That woman is turning out to be a lot more trouble than she’s worth. I really should have let Aidan kill her. And how the hell did she get out of court or find this place? How did she get here, looking like she does, with no cash? It’s not like she has a credit card or a fucking Uber account!