2. One Night in Hell

ROCCO

The internet connection was absolute shit out here, which shouldn't have surprised me given we were in the middle of nowhere. Perfect spot for Alessandro to stash his sister, though. Play dead for five years, and who'd think to look in a godforsaken place like this?

I glanced at her in the passenger seat—hadn't closed her eyes once—and thought: who knew she'd turned out this insufferable? Girl had beauty and a mouth to match. Who calls a Maserati a beat-up car?

My eyes dropped to her mouth, then lower. She wasn't a kid anymore. Not even close. Full-grown woman, and easy on the eyes too.

That arrogant stare, the way she carried herself—nothing like the brat I'd heard stories about.

The silence was starting to get thick, so I broke it.

“So. What's the plan now?”

“Get married.” Flat. Bored. Eyes still on the window.

“Married? That's... kind of sudden, don't you think?”

“What were you expecting me to say?” She finally turned, one perfect eyebrow arched.

“You just got out of a convent. Figured you'd want to... I don't know, live a little first.”

“I do want to live. Spending my life with a man who loves me, making love every day—that's not living?”

“Guess you know what you want.”

“Always have.”

“You'll have plenty of options.”

“Why? You thinking of applying?” Direct hit. Caught me off guard.

Had to admit, I still wasn't used to this. We'd met officially what—minutes ago?—and she already talked to me like I was her personal servant.

“Assuming something doesn't mean I'm including myself. People have types. And let's just say teenagers going through puberty aren't mine.”

“Teenager?” She laughed, dripping sarcasm. “I'm twenty-three, sweetheart.”

“Twenty-three, and you still smell like milk to me.”

She smiled. Couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or if she actually found me funny. Either way, smiling made her dangerously beautiful.

“You'd be surprised what a woman my age already knows how to do.”

My dirty mind went there immediately. Then my rational brain kicked in: she just got out of a convent. She was definitely bluffing, trying to act tough. Classic immature girl move—even if she was old enough for me to fuck senseless all night, leave her unable to walk tomorrow. Not that I would. Alessandro's sister? That'd be suicide.

Night fell. We pulled into a hostel in some tiny town. She got out, stared at the run-down building.

“No better hotel in this city?”

“We're in Roca del Rey. This is the five-star hotel, baby.”

Her shoulders dropped. She actually whimpered.

“When does my life go back to normal?” she muttered, grabbing her bags. I followed her inside.

Reception was dim, furniture worn to hell, that thick smell of mold everywhere. A bored-looking redhead stood behind the counter, chewing gum like it was her job. Until she saw us.

“Evening. Need a room with two twin beds.” I dropped the bags.

Before the girl could answer, Giuseppina cut in.

“Two rooms, please. A double for me, a single for him.”

I stared at her.

“What? You didn't actually think we were sharing, did you? I need privacy.”

“Right. Because your privacy matters more than your safety.”

She laughed—that sarcastic thing again—and stepped closer, going up on her toes. Short as she was, she had to stretch to reach my ear. Her shoulder brushed my arm. Then she whispered:

“Listen carefully. I spent five years locked in a convent in the middle of nowhere. I'm finally free. So how about you keep me safe without suffocating me?”

I had nothing. She smiled, triumphant.

“Thanks for understanding.”

I bit back about fifty responses. She turned to the receptionist, arms on the counter.

“If you have a suite with a jacuzzi, I'll take it.”

The receptionist looked done with life.

“We have a suite with an old tub that might pass for a jacuzzi if you close your eyes and use a lot of imagination. That work?”

Giuseppina's smile died. I bit back a laugh.

“It'll have to.”

The receptionist slid the key across.

“Second floor.”

“Thanks.” Pure fake sweetness. She grabbed her bags and started up the stairs, each step clanking.

I leaned into the counter.

“I need the room across from hers.”

“That room's not available for guests.”

“Next to hers, then.”

“There isn't one next to hers.”

“Then make the one across work.”

“It's full of storage. Bathroom's shot.”

Patience gone. I set my gun on the counter. Let it speak for itself.

“Let me ask again. Room across from hers. Now.”

The girl went pale. Looked at the gun. Looked at me.

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

She grabbed a bucket from under the counter and disappeared upstairs. I stood there, already regretting this whole mission.

Looked around while I waited. Peeling paint. Mold smell getting stronger by the second. A chair in the corner looked one sit away from collapse. The carpet was so stained I couldn't tell what color it used to be.

A few minutes later, the receptionist came back, sweat on her forehead.

“Room's ready, sir. Here are your keys.”

Took them without a word and headed up. Stairs creaked under my feet. Empty corridors echoed. Opened my door to a room even worse than reception—but it faced hers. Good enough.

Stepped back into the hall, and there she was. Head poked through her door crack, watching. When she saw me right across, her face twisted. Slammed her door.

Santa pazienza.

I let out a breath and went inside, dropping onto the rock-hard bed. Mattress groaned. The lamp barely lit the room. I stared at the ceiling, already dreading the next twenty-four hours with this spoiled brat.

My phone buzzed. Signal flickered—just long enough for messages to come through before dying again.

Two from Alessandro. Expected.

But one from an unknown number? That got my attention.

I opened it.

Your death is scheduled. Enjoy the next few hours. They're your last, traitor.

I stared at the screen. Could've come from anywhere. Since Cosa Nostra took out the Camorra, anyone who surrendered got branded a traitor. One name came to mind: Giancarlo. He had reasons to want me dead. Truth be told? Feeling was mutual.

Pocketed the phone. Sat on the edge of the bed, running through scenarios.

Protecting this woman was the job. But now there was a bigger threat. Needed to find whoever sent that message and put them down before they made a move.