6 • To Kill A Criminal

◆ MAXIMILIANO ◆

"Hey. You busy?"

"Depends." I sat back after accepting the video call request from the unregistered number. A new one, but I'd already memorized the last digits before Niccolo sent me new updates on the Interpol guy's activities.

He tilted his chin and eyed what my camera showed him. A white coat partly covered his black shirt. "You look busy."

"You look like shit." I positioned my phone beside the greasy rag on my desk. By "shit", I meant he looked marginally better than the last time we hung out.

For the first time in a while, he looked like he got a good night's sleep. Niccolo leaned closer to his phone, probably another burner. His brown eyes squinted at me. His grimace deepened as if my pastime disgusted him. "Che cazzo fai?" [What the fuck are you doing?]

"Cleaning my birthday gift."

"From who?"

"Pappa."

Niccolo shook his shaved head.  The video feed on my screen lagged a bit.

"What?" The smooth barrel glinted when I tilted it sideways. The other parts of the pistol remained strewn on my hardwood desk. I reclined in the swivel chair, repeatedly pulling the curved trigger as the cold, dark walls of my private office reminded me of the ominous thoughts clouding my judgment lately. "Do I look like I don't know how to use this?"

"Got a license for that?"

"Why? You want it?"

He scoffed at my grin. "Who's that for?"

I assembled the rest of the parts, shrugging off the violent images forming in my head. "Depends."

"Is your Mamma around? I thought your office was beside hers."

"Meeting."

"This late?"

Like clockwork. "These morons need her too much." Without my mother's financial expertise and her sheer dedication to keep the family business running, all of this would go down the drain in a matter of days. The top management were losing their shit over the news we'd been trying to keep private.

Two managers just resigned this morning. I didn't blame them. They quit due to months-old fear, guilt, and paranoia. I blamed the asshole who got my mother pregnant and dragged our whole family into his fucking mess with those bloodthirsty Russians.

"Why'd he give you a gun?"

"You tell me," I muttered. "Been his errand boy longer than I have."

"Piss off."

"The fuck's up your ass?" I smirked at his scowl and lifted the weapon to aim it at the locked door. "What's your problem?"

"Too many."

"Any new ones?"

"Magnus is persistent."

Of course. Sonuvabitch didn't like to lose. "Yeah? He offer you a private island or something?" I gripped the handgun as my arm tensed up.

The cold, tough steel had a nice weight to it. At least double the size of my fist. Good make. Not the cheap kind. Accurate and reliable last time I checked. The recoil was negligible, too.

My father bought this when I formally joined SF Shipping, our family's biggest company and main source of income. That day I gave in to the pressure and ruined my fate, he'd decided a gun would be a proper congratulatory gift. A little present for humoring him and saying yes to his plans "for my future". As if he actually cared.

But I knew he'd rather shoot himself than hand me the reins. All those little favors and gifts from him? Just plain old bribes, really. He believed working for the family business was the only means of paying off my debt — a debt I incurred for being his only child and heir.

Besides, no one but Ricchar would be the best replacement once the clan decided to officially hire a new CEO. Only a matter of weeks now. Or days, since Interpol wanted my father to join Ignazio and Leandro Tomassini in maximum security prisons. And soon.

If they found him alive, that is.

"Your other boss tried to contact her again," I said, choosing not to mention Ilya's full name in case some Interpol informant successfully bugged my office.

"You serious?" Scowling, Nicco swore under his breath, his forehead scrunched. "She didn't tell me."

Well, Kel had better things to do than vent about her crime-magnet biological father who didn't take no for an answer. "You think he's in New York?"

"No."

Okay. Not a pinch of hesitation. Must be accurate. "Still bedridden?"

"Far as I know," Nicco muttered with creased brows. "I can still access some cams. The set his old bodyguard installed."

Good enough.  "Asshole still needs a transplant this week?"

"Maybe." Nicco shrugged. "I know one of his nurses. I'd know if he ever left the mansion."

"You sure?"

"Magnus would tell me."

"Really. You besties now?" I asked, to which he only scoffed.

"Guy thinks I'm scared of him or some shit. I dunno. Maybe he thinks if he gives me enough intel and money, I'll say yes eventually."

"How much we talkin'?"

Niccolo sighed and crossed his slim arms, glaring at the camera as though my question was an insult. "Three."

"Hundred?"

"Three mil. Euros."

Well, shit.  Mykaela's brother really didn't fuck around—probably losing sleep waiting to cash in that inheritance money on Ilya's last will.  "Not bad." 

"I bet he already hired a private eye."

"He called you again? Today?"

"Tried. Blocked the numbers. Bet he bought a dozen new disposable cells." Nicco dropped his gaze and shook his head faintly. "Thinks I'll bite."

"Wanna bet?" I teased.

"I don't have a death wish. Unlike you."

"Long been dead since I took this fucking job." This full-time glorified errand boy slash corporate job my crime-loving father gave me.

"This is you on zombie mode? Happily cleaning a loaded gun at work?" Nicco made a face again. "Stronzo." [Piece of shit.]

"Thanks."

"Magnus wants her address, emails, phone numbers, her fucking routine..."

"Don't worry about it."

"What?" A humorless grin turned askew on Nicco's face. "You forgot he's just like Ilya. Only less mob-affiliated."

"Sure."

"Maxim, he's got connections in every fuckin' state."

"I bet."

A shrewd moneymaker like Magnus Roiz wouldn't run out of connections. Desperation might push Magnus to find Kel himself, shove her into his jet, and bring her back to Belgrade just to pacify Ilya.

But Enzo knew what he had to do — his security staff would protect Mykaela if her brother tried to kidnap her. A bloodbath would happen first.

"Enzo's guys are watching her."

"How many?"

"Dunno. Just chill. Lay low," I told Nicco. Time to change the subject.  "I heard they rescued five more."

"Yeah." A slight nod accompanied his calmer tone. "Three kids. Two adults."

"Ricchar told you?"

"It's on the news, hermit."

I put on a smile. "Bang-up job, then."

"You're alone? Headset on?" Niccolo squinted at the camera.

"Why?"

He probably thought someone was listening in and spying on us.

"Any updates from the foundation?"

"They're, uh, relocating the rest of the second batch. Moved them to a new shelter."

New shelter. Good move.

At least the Valtieris cared enough to secure a safe hideout for the refugees — the homeless trafficking victims the police managed to rescue back at the port, with our help. Leandro and his Uncle Ignazio were the type of assholes to permanently get rid of witnesses to save their asses.

"But still in Rome?" I polished the barrel of my gun.

"Yeah. South. Near Giano. Ostia."

"Close. 'Sup with the Valtieris?"

"Not much." Nicco sighed. "Anastasia's dating this new guy, French model, and doing drugs again."

"Slippery slope." The girl wasn't even 25. Clearly Raffaele Valtieri was too busy to give a shit about his younger sister's pastimes.

"Daddy likes to drink and cheat on Mommy, so..." Niccolo shrugged. "Learned behavior."

"But they're still clean? The family business?"

"Not sure. I'm busy with something."

"Ilya?"

"No. How's Kel?"

"Busier."

"Called her this week?"

"Sure." And dumped her through text, I should add.

"Lorenzio's serious about staying in New York for good?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Oh." Nicco's grin turned lopsided. "What, she told you they met up again?"

"No. He dropped by Mamma's house last week."

"Ah..."

"I told him to pay for Mykaela's bodyguards and therapist." It was a private, mutual agreement, and Enzo knew the consequences should he fail to deliver his end of the deal.  I already gave him enough chances.

If he screwed up again, he'd better pray he's nowhere near Ilya's crosshairs by the time that mobster found him and Mykaela.  Ilya might've already found out that Enzo had been helping us keep her whereabouts safe and hidden from public access. To keep it that way, I'd been paying Nicco for all his work the past year.

He scratched his forehead, lips still pouting.  "Just remind her not to use her name again on social media. All platforms," he stressed.

"She doesn't need a reminder."

"You told her to always use anonymous emails for mailing lists?"

"Tell her yourself."

Nicco pulled a face. "I don't have her new number."

"I'll forward it. She's not talking to me, so...  Just call her."

"Ah." Nicco's brown eyes squinted. Genuine curiosity trumped the hint of suspicion on his clean-shaven face. "What's up with you two?"

As if he needed an explanation. I shoved the gun in my side drawer, the one with two locks. My mother would lose her shit and drive me to the nearest rehab if she saw me wielding it around here.

"She broke up with you?" Nicco snickered.

"Other way 'round."

"Why? Ricchar said so? Because of Archambault?"

"Sure." I shrugged casually.

"Magnus has his own team of hackers and PIs on speed dial. Just sayin'."

"Don't sweat about it. Enzo hired more guys. You already did enough with the hospital records," I sighed. "She's safe."

Nicco rolled his eyes. "For now. Did Enzo talk to your Mamma about the deal? He knows. Right? That you told her to testify in court?"

"Sure." And my mother knew well how much her decision would affect the Tomassinis' fate. I just couldn't tell whether she'd finally made up her mind. We all had to. It was only a matter of months before each and every one of us would have to show up in court to avoid prison time.

"And?" Nicco palmed his chin and leaned closer to the camera. "She said yes?"

"Getting there. Just shut up about it. She's stressed enough."

"Pssh. Who would I tell?"

"Whatever. Talk soon." I hung up and checked my messages, then my emails. "Fuck." No new replies from my best friend. Ex-best friend now, I guess.

◆

◇ MYKAELA ◇

Did he really just call me "love"? Again?

Gosh darn it. If only he didn't live in England for some time, I'd think he used that word in a different sense. A less friendly, more romantic sense. I mean, a girl could dream...

"Mykaela," Enzo said, his voice louder and quite hoarse, no longer hugging me tight as if it would physically hurt if he let go.

"What? Y-Yeah." I pulled away from my date this evening. Well, it was just a friendly date. "I'm good." My eyes, head, and chest ached less. Sure. But the useless tears hadn't run out yet. I bit them back. I'd rather pretend to not care anymore than cry in front of him again.

He'd think I was being too dramatic over that dumb non-breakup. Probably thought I was taking it too seriously for my own good.

Before we could broach another topic to break off the awkward silence, Enzo resumed his light massage along my shoulders and upper back. "Still cold? Here. Put this on." He took off his coat and placed it on my lap. Almost like he felt obligated to keep me warm and comfortable.

"Thanks." I wore his coat and kept avoiding his eyes.

When the car sped up again, he cleared his throat, shifting his posture. His thigh inched away from my backside.

Was it awkwardness he felt? Probably.

I should apologize for all that drama he didn't ask for, and subtly explain that to me, this wasn't a real date. I knew my place. And I wasn't delusional. Just running out of patience, willpower and self-control. "Hey."

"What?"

"Sorry for...um...dumping all this on you."

"Nah." Enzo grinned and scrolled through some emails. His phone held his attention while his driver slowed down due to rush hour traffic.

The church was only a few blocks away. But I doubted we'd get there in five minutes.

"I didn't mean to."

"All good," Enzo murmured with a smirk.

"Gaia's busy and not really in the mood to... I mean, I know you're also busy with work, meetings and—"

"S'alright. No problem."

"Thank you." I smiled briefly at him and dropped my gaze, clasping the straps of my bag until my fingers turned white.

"Sure."

"Means a lot. That you're here and, y'know... But I'm not gonna— I mean, I know you're stressed enough with Zione and everything that's going on in Florence."

"Yeah. Practically why I'm here."

"I shouldn't have asked. Last night, I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. I shouldn't text or call you in the middle of the night and bother y—"

"Mykaela, stop. I get it." Enzo tried to laugh, but his brows creased and he sounded rather irritated.

"Get what?"

Enzo stared at me like he was holding back a laugh. "When I was trying to get over some shit, I did the same thing, didn't I?"

"Huh?"

"At the hotel? You were studying for exams, and everything was driving you mad, but you still said yes."

"Yes?" To what exactly?

"We hung out. All night. You listened. Heard me out. Never complained." With some gentleness, he flicked my bangs away from my cheek as I tried to maintain eye contact. "You stayed. For me."

Oh. Right. That happened. I had slept in his hotel room overnight just to make sure he wouldn't drink himself into a coma.

"You made time when I needed someone." Enzo lightly pinched my cheek. "I'm just trying to do the same here. Alright?"

"Okay."

"You don't owe me an apology or anythin'."

"Okay." I tried to look relieved. But my chuckle just sounded terribly forced. "Thanks. For listening to me rant."

"You didn't." Enzo snickered. "So? You told Gaia? That he broke up with you."

I looked away. "I texted her the other day. We haven't really talked. She texted back, but, she's so busy."

"What'd she say?"

"The usual."

"Usual?"

"That, uh, we're better off as friends," I sighed. "Somethin' like that."

"And?" Enzo sounded intrigued now.

"I'm 'better off without his toxic bullshit', was her exact words." I drew in a long breath.

In retrospect, my bestie never liked Miles for me. Not only for his personal and family issues. She'd made me confess months ago, when I finally explained the nature of Mr. Falco's business deals with Enzo's uncle and brother.

That time, Gaia already knew about Mr. Falco's troubles with the law. She also thought Miles was far from the type to compromise just to make a long-distance thing work.

At first, it really hurt to accept the fact.  But if I'd listened to her advice, I wouldn't be dealing with all this heartache and a new, special brand of crippling anxiety. "Am I too naïve?"

As his brows wrinkled, Enzo licked his bottom lip and prolonged a sigh. "Erm... To some extent. But that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"How?"

"Part of you's still an idealist."

Oh. What he probably meant to say was "overemotional pushover". Or I might be a full-blown masochist at this point. Thanks to Miles, I finally realized the extent of my people-pleasing habits.

"You want brutal honesty?"

"Please?"

With his arms crossed below his chest, Enzo shifted beside me and cleared his throat. "At this point, you'll just have to accept that he's actively avoiding a serious committed relationship, because it's what suits his lifestyle best. For now at least."

Ouch. That pricked me straight in the heart. But, yeah. Pretty accurate, even though he and Miles weren't exactly friends. "Okay. But, why d'you say that?"

"I know his type."

His type?

"Too well." Enzo stretched his muscular neck and arms. "He and Rafa," he muttered with a slanted grin, "too similar."

Raffaele? His best friend? I scowled. "Back up. Rafa's bi?"

"No." Enzo laughed and held my thigh. His grip was firm, until he noticed my discomfort. "Not really." He stopped touching me as his grin showed off his nice teeth.

Oh. Rafa wasn't bisexual.  On social media, he looked and dressed like a model slash virile rockstar. Complete with the thick beard, leather jacket, dark tattoos and all.  Probably the same height as Enzo or Miles.

"But, yeah. Same wiring." Enzo shrugged weakly.

"Meaning?"

"Prefers situationships. Likes to leave people second-guessing. Can't make up his bloody mind. Doesn't wanna get married or have kids. Yada yada..."

"Wait. I thought he's living with Alodia?" Well, technically, Raffaele was helping Alodia hide from Enzo's batshit insane brother. Not living with her for the romance and girlfriend experience.

"Sure. But they're not gonna end up in church."

"Why not?" I thought Rafa and his family were practicing Catholics?

"Leo's still madly in love with her. And vice versa, I s'ppose."

"Really?"

"Why else would she say yes to him? Then she just bolts after finding out he visited his ex in prison. Basically, Alodia's using Rafa to make Leo jealous. All there is to it."

Because she felt so heartbroken and betrayed? Or the girl simply feared for her life? Hence her leaving Leandro and eloping with Raffaele. Or it could've been mere infatuation when she agreed to live with Leandro in Italy and have his firstborn. Was it even a planned pregnancy?

Shit. Whenever I heard about the guy, anything new about him just seemed too complicated for my brain to process. "Ugh." I shut my eyes and massaged my throbbing head.

"You alright?"

I let out a noisy sigh, quietly willing my mouth to relax and stay friendly. "I just can't with your brother."

"Yeah." Enzo's laugh was strained and breathy. "Imagine being related to him."

"I can't."

"Anyway, Rafa wants to meet you."

◇