Page 21 of The Assassin’s Captive (The Roma Syndicate #5)
LORENZO
When we agreed to meet, he tried to back out, telling me he couldn't help.
But I reminded him how this works. If Rome's most powerful crime families are being hunted down by people on his side of the line, everyone is a target.
It's in his best interests to make a friend on my side who can protect him.
I'm just glad I got to him before someone else did.
Footsteps bounce off the narrow walls at a slow gait. The man who emerges from the shadows looks every day of his fifty-three years—thinning hair, nervous eyes, clothes that have seen better decades. Court clerks don't make enough to dress well, even when they're selling information on the side.
"Santoro." His voice shakes slightly. "You came alone."
"As promised." I keep my hands visible, though the Beretta sits ready under my jacket. "You have what I need?"
Laera glances over his shoulder, then back to me. "Three crews know about the girl's identity. The Bianchis got word two days ago. The Torrianis yesterday. The Russos…" He swallows hard. "The Russos sent someone to scout your neighborhood three days ago, late morning."
My blood turns cold as I remember the man in my yard and the retired detective next door—Silvano Petrini. So it wasn't a coincidence. If the Russos are already that close, the situation has deteriorated faster than I anticipated.
"How did they find out where she is?"
"Who knows. Maybe someone watched you take her from the hospital or maybe they've just been watching you." Laera's hands tremble as he lights a cigarette. "Word is spreading through the families. They all want a piece of the prosecutor." The cherry glows bright as he takes a drag, and I scowl.
"Who else knows?"
"Everyone who matters. By tomorrow, every crew in Rome will be positioning themselves." He takes a shaky drag. "That's why I need out. Tonight."
I study his face in the dim light. Fear makes people unpredictable, but it also makes them desperate enough to be useful. "What do you want?"
"Fifty thousand euros. Clean papers—passport, identity documents, the works.
Transport to somewhere Costa's reach doesn't extend.
" His cigarette glows red in the darkness as he gestures with his hand while he speaks.
The man is a coward, running before the situation even heats up, but he's my only shot. He knows how to get what I need.
"In exchange, you help me with whatever I need from inside the courthouse from the evidence locker." My shoulders are squared and stiff, but all he's looking at are the whites of my eyes as he gawks up at me.
His eyes widen. "The Barone case files? That's federal property—high security."
"You have access."
"I have keys to most of the building, yes, but?—"
"Then we have a deal." I step closer, close enough to smell the fear sweat on him. "But I need those files tonight. Before the other families make their moves."
"Goddammit," Laera hisses and drops his cigarette and crushes it under his heel. "The security guard makes rounds every two hours." I can tell he's reluctant, but even he knows it's his only option. The Russos will have him strung up on a flag pole before dawn if they hear a whisper of his name.
"I'm not asking," I tell him, and his shoulders drop.
"Building's empty except for that one guard after midnight, but I got a family, man…"
"Can you get us inside?"
"Us?" His eyebrows rise and he stiffens.
"I don't trust you to work alone. Too much room for error." I check the mouth of the alley. Still empty, but that won't last. "How many cameras?"
"Three in the main lobby, two in the evidence corridor. But I know the blind spots."
"Good. We go in through?—"
Movement catches my eye. Two figures at the alley's entrance, silhouettes against the streetlight behind them. They're moving like they don't want to be seen, not with the casual gait of late-night pedestrians.
"Get down." I grab Laera's shoulder and shove him behind a dumpster.
The men advance into the alley. Moonlight glints off metal in their hands—not knives, but guns—which means they know who we are and what we're doing here.
Either Laera led them here or they followed me, which means it's possible someone is attempting to get to my house right now too.
Now I'm glad that old nosy cop lives next door.
"Cristiano Laera." The voice that calls out is accented with the harsh edges of Naples' Italian. It's definitely the Torriani crew. "Come out. We want to talk."
Laera's breathing quickens beside me. His fear stinks worse than the garbage.
"About what?" I call back, keeping my voice steady while my hand finds the Beretta's grip.
"About information that doesn't belong to you." The second man moves to the left, trying to flank us. "About conversations that need to end."
They know about the meeting. Someone leaked our location, or they've been watching Laera longer than he realized. Either way, this ends one way.
I draw the Beretta in one smooth motion and put two rounds center mass into the first gunman before he can raise his weapon. The suppressor keeps the noise down to sharp cracks that echo briefly off the alley walls.
The second man swings his gun toward me, but I'm already moving. Three steps to the right, two more rounds. He drops next to his partner, blood pooling dark on the wet cobblestones.
The entire engagement takes less than ten seconds.
" Madonna santissima ," Laera whispers, staring at the bodies. "You killed them."
"They came here to kill us." I check both men for identification. No wallets, no papers, but the tattoos on their hands confirm what I already knew. Torriani soldiers, probably sent to clean up loose ends.
"What do we do now?"
"Now you disappear." I wipe down the shell casings and pocket them. "Go home, pack light, get out of Rome tonight. Don't contact anyone, don't use credit cards, don't make phone calls."
"But the courthouse?—"
"Plans will go forward, but we have to do it clean." I scan the alley one more time. No witnesses, no cameras, but the bodies won't stay hidden long. "I'll get in touch."
"What about my money? My papers?"
I pull out a burner phone and scroll to a contact.
"Check your account tomorrow. The documentation will be ready by Thursday, and when we meet, I'll make sure you're covered.
" I meet his terrified eyes. "But if you're still in Rome by sunrise, I can't guarantee your safety. Get out until I contact you."
Laera nods frantically and hurries toward the alley's mouth, leaving me alone with two corpses and the bitter taste of escalation.
I drag the bodies deeper into the shadows and check my watch again. 11:58 p.m. The cleanup crew Costa keeps on retainer won't be available until morning, but these men will be missed by their handlers within hours.
If they come looking and find this mess, the city won't wait to erupt into bloodshed until Serena is captured. It'll detonate like homemade napalm and everyone involved will go up in flames. Myself included.
Serena is asleep when I get home and check on her.
She lies curled on her side in the bed with one hand stretched out across my pillow like she's waiting for me.
For a moment, I allow myself to remember the weight of her in my arms, the taste of her mouth, the way she says my name when she's in the throes of pleasure.
But when I think of those men bleeding out in the ally, it snaps me back to reality.
The other families aren't waiting for Costa to make his move.
They're positioning themselves to take Serena, use her, or eliminate her before she becomes a bigger threat.
The window for keeping her hidden has closed.
I change into some shorts and a T-shirt then drop my contaminated clothes into the furnace in the basement and watch them burn. Orange flames consume the evidence, reducing cotton and blood to ash. But fire can't burn away what tonight revealed.
Someone is talking. Someone with access to our movements, our plans, our location.
The leak could be inside Costa's organization or it could be deeper—law enforcement, courthouse administration, even the paralegals who work on her team.
We paid good money to make her disappearance go unnoticed, but someone still noticed.
Either way, the game has changed. Serena isn't safe here anymore, and hiding her won't be enough. If the families want Costa's daughter, they'll have to go through me to get her.
I close the furnace door and check the security monitors one final time. The cameras show empty grounds, quiet streets, normal shadows. But normal is an illusion now.
Tomorrow, I'll contact Victor and arrange for additional security. I'll reach out to my sources inside the other families and find out how far the information has spread. I'll start making the calls necessary to acquire clean papers and safe transport for Leara once we have Serena's evidence files.
But tonight, I sit in my chair and watch the monitors, my Glock within easy reach, and count the hours until dawn brings new threats to my door.