Chapter 196

“Is that so?” Kazimierz asks. “Then why haven’t you killed me yet? One bullet through her and then one through me and this would all be over.”

“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” Lucio smiles dangerously. “The FBI have fun plans for you. Why kill you before they can do what they’ve planned?”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“An excuse to save her?” Lucio asks, as though the mere suggestion is ludicrous. He laughs. “I’ll admit, she’s a good fuck. But ultimately, not significant at the end of the day.”

I close my eyes.

Why won’t Kazimierz just shoot me already?

At the moment, it genuinely feels like the pain of a bullet through my skull might hurt less than this torture.

“It all comes down to one thing, Kazimierz,” Lucio continues. “The one dynamic that men like us live our lives by. Predator and prey.”

“Is that so?”

“You ever heard of a platypus?” Lucio asks.

My eyes fly open.

Why does it feel like he’s talking to me now?

When I look at Lucio, he’s looking right back at me. Our eyes lock together for the first time since he’s entered the room.

And I forget what he’s just said.

I forget what Kazimierz has just said.

I focus only on what I feel.

And what I know to be true deep down.

I know Lucio.

I love Lucio.

And I’ve never been more certain that he loves me, too.

“A platypus?” Kazimierz repeats, sounding baffled.

Lucio nods. “It’s a funny little creature. Native to Australia. My daughter loves them.”

“Is that right?”

“They’re ugly as hell. At least, I used to think so. But they’re really growing on me. You know why?”

I glance down and see something.

A familiar face.

The last thing I ever thought I’d see in a situation like this.

Evie’s stuffed toy Paulie is lying on the floor.

I remember that Lucio hadn’t let Evie bring him to the funeral, so she’d tucked him carefully into his little bed on her bookshelf and left him behind.

All the explosions must’ve knocked him to the floor.

Because there he is. Beaded eyes flashing with the sporadic bursts of gunfire from the fights occurring in the garden.

I know in my heart he’s just a stuffed animal.

But by God, he looks so alive right now.

Like a guardian fucking angel.

“I’ll bite, Mazzeo,” Kazimierz drawls. “Why?”

Lucio grins. “Because they look like prey, Kazimierz. They look like pathetic, shriveled little creatures. But if you get too close, you learn one important little truth about them: they carry poison that can kill you.”

I realize what Lucio is trying to tell me.

I realize what I have to do on his signal.

“Are you the platypus in this excruciatingly extended analogy?” the Polish don drawls.

Lucio shakes his head sadly. “No.”

He points at me.

“She is.”

At that exact moment, I jab my elbow in Kazimierz’s gut and drop to the floor.

And three shots fire out.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

I don’t open my eyes until I feel his hands around me.

I know it’s Lucio. There’s no other way I’d feel so safe so suddenly.

He pulls me up to my feet. I glance behind to see Kazimierz’s body sprawled against the carpet.

His eyes still open in shock. His blood soaking the rug.

Just before the crimson flow reaches Paulie, I snatch the toy up into my arms.

“You did it,” I breathe.

“You ducked,” Lucio replies with a sad smile.

“You told me to.”

He smiles. “That’s my girl.”

He leans in and I feel myself do the same.

I’m desperate to feel the heat of his lips. But before I can touch their warmth, we’re suddenly swarmed my men in riot gear once more.

“Hands up,” one of the feds orders.

A dozen different guns are pointed in our direction, but Lucio doesn’t seem concerned as he lifts his hands above his head.

“Alright, alright,” he says loudly. “Calm the fuck down.”

He turns to me and gives me a little wink.

And despite it all…

I smile.

45

Lucio

Six Weeks Later—The Mazzeo Mansion

I adjust the cuff of my trousers, my fingers brushing against the metal of my tracking anklet.

The contraption is annoying as hell.

But a minor price to pay, all things considered.

I straighten up and relax into my leather back wing chair.

“Ah,” I breathe. “It’s good to be back.”

“Is that thing secure?” Agent Jacobsen asks with a sour expression.

His arm is in a sling for the time being, but apparently, he’s expected to make a full recovery. He’s lucky that his bulletproof vest took most of the blunt force of Kazimierz’s gunshot the night of the raid.

“Oh, this little contraption?” I ask. “You’re welcome to check yourself to make sure.” I raise my leg over my office desk and offer it to him.

“Put your fucking leg down,” he growls at me. “I’m not touching you.”

I laugh. “Can I offer you something, Agent? A drink? You sure look like you could use one.”

He scowls miserably. “We’re going to be keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Mazzeo,” he tells me. “If you so much as step out of the compound—”

“I know, I know,” I reply tiredly. “You’ll haul my ass back to jail. That threat really gets old after the third or fourth time.”

“You should still be in jail,” he snaps. “Six weeks behind bars is a fucking joke.”

I can’t help but laugh at his grumpy grimace. “A citizen has a right to bail.”

“You’re no citizen. You’re a criminal who just happens to have more friends in the FBI than I realized.”

I don’t say a word.

“Care to tell me their names?” he ventures.

I give him a quizzical look. “I have no idea what you’re suggesting, Agent Jacobsen,” I say innocently. “I don’t have any friends in the FBI. No crooked cops in your department.”

“I’ll find them,” he promises me. “Sooner or later.”

“You can certainly try,” I say. I give him a wink just to piss him off.

He bares his teeth and looks around at the office we’re sitting in. The bar has been fully stocked prior to my return home.

I’m itching for a drink, but I figure it can wait until after the agent has left.

He might’ve protected Charlotte when it mattered most. I owe him for that.

But he’s still not getting a taste of the good liquor.

“I’ll be paying you a visit every two weeks,” he warns me. “Just to make sure you’re sticking to the rules of your bail release.”

“I’ll be here waiting,” I tell him. “Scout’s honor.”

“Of course you will,” he scoffs. “What’s three months of house arrest? Especially in a palace like this…”

We both cast our eyes around what we can see of the mansion. There are still some repairs left to be made, but Adriano did a surprisingly good job of getting things cleaned up while I was detained.

“Now, now, Agent,” I tut, “you got what you wanted.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Did I?”

“I gave you all the information you asked for,” I tell him. “Business dealings, trade routes, caches of illegal goods. It took two trucks to tow all the binders out of here.”

I keep my face perfectly composed, even though I know Jacobsen is far too shrewd to fall for all the garbage I fed his unit per the terms of our deal.

“You may have been able to fool the rest of the department with that truckload of bullshit you handed over,” he tells me. “But don’t think for one second you’ve got me fooled. Those files are worthless. Those business dealings are old or moot. The information you gave us is hollow. There’s nothing there. It means nothing.”

I shrug. “I’m sorry if I disappointed, but that’s all I had to give. You should know. You’ve already searched the compound a few times over.”