Chapter 6 - A Trap Set in Velvet
The beam of Alessandro's tactical light sliced through the darkness, illuminating the vaulted archway of the old wine cellar where the tunnel opened up. Standing thirty yards ahead, framed between massive oak casks of vintage Barolo, was Elena Romano. She had discarded her silk dressing gown for a fitted black tactical turtleneck, a pair of dark trousers, and an automatic pistol holstered at her hip. Flanking her were two hulking men clad in unmarked mercenary gear, both leveling short-barreled assault rifles directly at Alessandro's chest.
""Step back, Clara,"" Alessandro ordered in a voice so devoid of emotion it was terrifying. He didn't raise his hands. He stood tall, a towering wall of meat and bone shielding Sophie and me from the line of fire.
""Oh, look at the noble family man,"" Elena purred, stepping forward with an effortless grace that made my skin crawl. Her eyes, identical in shape to mine, locked onto my face. A twisted smirk curled her painted lips. ""Look at you, little sister. You have our father's pathetic, soft eyes. He spent his entire life wallowing in guilt over your mother, sending envelopes of dirty money to keep you in cheap shoes and state colleges.""
""My mother was an honorable woman,"" I spat back, finding a surge of protective fury I didn't know I possessed. ""Something you clearly know nothing about.""
Elena’s eyes flashed with a momentary spark of venom. ""Your mother was a maid who didn't know her place. Just like you. You crawled into my husband's house, scrubbing floors, waiting for an opportunity to slide into my bed and take my inheritance.""
""She didn't know who she was until twenty minutes ago, Elena,"" Alessandro growled, his knuckles white against the grip of his pistol. ""This ends between us. Let the woman and the child take the passage to the vehicle. You want the Bernardo accounts? I’ll sign over the port authority, the shipping lanes, and every dollar in the Swiss trusts.""
Elena threw her head back and laughed—a harsh, screeching sound that echoed hideously in the enclosed cavern. ""Do you think I care about your little shipping lanes, Alessandro? The Russians gave me access to global markets you couldn't dream of. I don't want your money. I want the clean name. The Bernardo trust has diplomatic immunity clauses written into the old treaties. To claim it, the legitimate bloodline must be singular and unencumbered.""
She slowly drew her pistol, pointing the barrel straight at Sophie's head.
""Which means,"" Elena whispered, ""you, your bastard maid, and that squealing little brat have to disappear. Forever.""
""NO!"" I screamed, dropping to my knees and shielding Sophie with my entire body, pressing her face into my chest so she wouldn't see the muzzle of the gun.
Sophie let out a muffled sob against my neck. ""Mommy, the bad lady is mean! Tell her to go away!""
""Kill him first,"" Elena commanded her mercenaries coldly. ""Aim for the kneecaps. I want him on the floor to watch them die.""
The two mercenaries raised their rifles. In that fraction of a second, time seemed to slow down. Alessandro didn't dive for cover. He didn't try to negotiate. With inhuman speed, he brought his Kimber up and fired twice. The deafening cracks of gunfire in the enclosed cellar were like thunderclaps. The mercenary on the left dropped instantly, his weapon clattering across the stones.
At the exact same moment, the mercenary on the right squeezed his trigger. A short burst of three rounds chewed into Alessandro's right shoulder and chest. The impact threw him backward against the damp wall with a sickening thud, a dark spray of crimson hitting the gray limestone.
""Alessandro!"" I shrieked, watching the giant man slide down onto one knee, gasping for air as blood soaked rapidly through his white shirt.
Elena stepped over her fallen man, a look of pure, triumphant ecstasy distorting her beautiful face. She raised her weapon, aiming it squarely between Alessandro's eyes as he struggled to raise his gun with his shattered right arm.
""Seven years in the dark,"" Elena hissed, thumbing back the hammer. ""And you die in a ditch, at the feet of a servant.""
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Suddenly, Sophie broke free of my grip.
Before I could grab her coat, my three-year-old daughter ran forward, her tiny shoes pattering across the wet stones, and threw herself directly between Elena's gun and the bleeding mob boss.
