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  Her husband glared at her and she wound her arms protectively around herself. “I never would have suspected you of such treachery. I’m almost impressed. If I had a clue you were capable of such deceit I might have thought more of you.”

  “You’re disgusting. Nothing was planned except for … what was it again? Oh, right, your plan to kill me.”

  Enrico twisted her around to look him in the eye. “Let’s talk about that and the millions that I paid your boyfriend to do it.”

  Viktor pushed himself up to glare at Enrico. “If you need the money so badly, take it back. I can get it for you right now.”

  Enrico turned the gun on Viktor, loosening his grip on Allegra as his attention swayed to the man at his feet. “I don’t believe you.”

  Viktor coughed roughly. “You think I need your paltry five million? Haven’t you just been walking through my house? It’s not like I need it.” He took a slow breath. “Your money’s in my safe along with payments from a few other jobs. You can have it all if you let Allegra go.”

  While Enrico considered the offer, Allegra angled herself away. Tried to put as much space between herself and Enrico as possible.

  “Clock’s ticking, Mariano. Take the money and leave or you can die for touching Allegra.”

  The man holding her chuckled and twisted her around by her hair to appraise her. It gave her time to look at him, too. Enrico might have been trying to play it cool, but he was sweating.

  “Nice try, but I’m the one with the gun.” He spent a good three seconds pondering his options. “I might as well take it back since you didn’t do your job.” Enrico’s gaze swept their surroundings. “I’ll probably take all this as well. It suits me quite well. This,” he thrust her forward, “you can keep.”

  Taking the chance, Allegra swiveled quickly, freeing herself, and drove the blade she had taken from Viktor’s waistband under Enrico’s ribs.

  In the same moment, Viktor threw himself at him. “Get out of here!”

  But she couldn’t move. How could she when Viktor was in danger?

  “Allegra!” She caught the warning in Viktor’s voice a moment before there was a gurgling sound from the man under him. “For fuck’s sake. Look away.”

  Then there was silence.

  “Viktor?” Allegra edged forward. Why wasn’t he moving? Enrico couldn’t have won. There was no way he could have beaten Viktor. Then again, both men had been injured. Had Enrico managed to overpower him in his weakened state?

  She edged closer, trembling now from the fear that Viktor had been taken from her. That he’d been killed protecting her.

  Somehow, she managed to make her body respond and nudge him with her foot. “Viktor?”

  Allegra nudged him again and was rewarded with a groan.

  He pushed himself up with his good arm into a sitting position. “I didn’t want you to see…”

  She shook her head and let the tears well up. Allegra didn’t care. All that mattered was he was alive. “I thought you were dead.”

  Viktor huffed an amused-sounding breath as she helped him to his feet. “It’ll take more than him.”

  Burying her face in his good shoulder, she sniffled. “I don’t ever want to find out, okay?”

  He gave her a gentle kiss, promising her everything she asked for. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Allegra supported his weight as best she could as they made their way down the stairs. She opened the front door to the dawn of what looked to be a good day. “Where are we going to go?”

  They both took a deep breath of the fresh air before Viktor gave her a small smile. “Trust me.”

  And the wonderful thing was, she did.

  Epilogue

  Allegra stood on the balcony of her home and smiled at nothing in particular. The sun was shining, the breeze was soft and fragrant and she had her health and she had found the love of her life … she could go on and on. What was there not to smile about?

  Turning to walk back into the house, she heard the sounds of laughter from the floor below and decided to follow.

  Downstairs, Viktor and their sons were having a very loud and spirited argument over who had won the last race on the latest game they’d been playing.

  Now five and seven, Dante and Marco, were growing to be as handsome and smart as their father.

  And just as stubborn.

  She stood at the door watching for some time before their argument resulted in a tie breaker between the two boys.

  Viktor got up off the floor and headed over to her. “You’re gloating again.”

  She grinned proudly. “Why shouldn’t I? You three are the best things to have happened to me so far.”

  His dark brows raised as he wrapped his arm around her. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Viktor pushed her around the corner to press her up against the wall, away from prying eyes, to give her a kiss.

  Allegra wound her arms around his neck and kissed him right back until the need for oxygen forced them to part. She couldn’t help the smug smile when she drew back, however.

  “What’s that smile about?”

  She took his hand and pressed it to her belly. “Just thinking that maybe another one will be the icing on the cake.”

  Viktor’s eyes widened as her words sunk in. “Really?” His face lit up with awe when she nodded.

  “Happy?” Allegra needn’t have asked. She could see his elation written all over his face.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how much.” He kissed her again, but this time they were interrupted by a disgruntled gagging sound from behind Viktor.

  Dante called out to his brother. “They’re kissing again.”

  “Gross!” More gagging sounds came from Marco before he muttered. “Forget dad for now. He can play against me when I beat you again.”

  “No way! I’m way better than you! If anyone is playing him, it’s me!” Dante ran back into the room and gave his brother a flying tackle.

  Viktor gave her a quick kiss and gave her stomach another gentle caress. “Maybe this one will be a girl?”

  Allegra grinned. “We can hope,” she teased knowing that they would both welcome a boy or a girl with equal happiness.

  “I love you.”

  Purposely, she paused just a little too long before she answered, earning her a possessive kiss. When he pulled back she was dizzy and laughing. “I don’t know…”

  He growled, gripping her close. “You don’t know?” He nibbled the skin where her neck met her shoulder. “Or you’re not willing to tell me, because I have ways of making you talk.”

  Allegra sighed dreamily as she thought of all the delicious things he could do to her. “Later, my love.” She jerked her head toward the room where their boys were still arguing.

  He grumbled good-naturedly as he turned to sort it out.

  Keeping hold of his hand, she dragged him in for one more kiss. “I love you.”

  Viktor gifted her with one of his rare smiles. “I know.”

  The End

  www.evernightpublishing.com/kait-gamble

  THE LAST DILUCA

  Forgotten Rebels MC

  Beth D. Carter

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Slade throttled down on the accelerator, shifting into the next gear as he followed his club president, Kix. The roar of the engine vibrated through the darkened streets, although he doubted anyone would care. The small rural town more or less belonged to ghosts rather than people, with only a few old-timers stubbornly clinging to the good ol’ days. It certainly was a low-key place for a meeting between the head of a mob family and the president of a one-percenter motorcycle club.

  He’d certainly been surprised when Sweeney Barese called out of the blue and asked to meet in the sleepy little town. Two years had passed since he’d last stepped foot in that world, so he really had no idea what Sweeney could want. As they pulled into the darkened parking lot in the closed down shopping ce
nter off Highway 60, Slade saw that two black SUVs waited for them. Kix parked his bike a good distance away and turned off the engine. Slade cruised up next to him and followed suit, taking off his helmet.

  “Could it get any more cliché than this?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yep. Looks like a goddamn mafia movie. All that’s missing is the signal of headlights letting us know the coast is clear.” Kix gave a nod toward the two SUVs. “Since you ran around with them, what can we expect?”

  “I didn’t have much to do with the Barese family,” Slade admitted. “Only met up with them once or twice since they were East St. Louis with Chicago ties. I worked with the DiLuca family, which operated on the west side of the Mississippi.”

  “Trustworthy?”

  “That I don’t know. There was a peace treaty put into place by Tony Barese’s father back in the sixties between the two families stating the Barese Borgata wouldn’t enter the DiLuca territory and vice versa.”

  “Bad blood?” Kix asked.

  “I think more like a way to prevent bad blood.”

  “Ah.” Kix nodded in understanding. “Speaking of the DiLuca family, how long has it been since you talked with Normandy?”

  A little dagger pierced his heart, as it did every time he heard his estranged wife’s name. Theirs was a complex relationship, one he didn’t like to think about too deeply because the emotions were still raw, even after almost two years.

  “Not for a while.”

  “You two haven’t lived together as man and wife for a long time.”

  “I imagine she’s still pissed at me.”

  “One day you’ll have to tell me what you did.”

  “No secret, really. I did nothing except what was best for her,” he replied. “Her father … well, he was furious when he found out we eloped. Turns out I was good enough to work for the family, but not good enough to marry into it. Family is everything to her and if had I stayed, it would’ve driven a wedge between them. So I bowed out.”

  “And she doesn’t know this?”

  Slade shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter at this point.”

  Just then, the doors of the first SUV opened and two men stepped out. One slender man from the other vehicle also exited, and all three walked toward them. The humongous giant shadowing the two sharply dressed men could only have the suit he wore tailor-made because Slade figured it was either that or the man had to wear a circus tent. Where the hell had Sweeney recruited the guy? The unibrow he sported only emphasized the Neanderthal features of the brute. The other two were the complete opposite. Grey-haired, regal, refined, while the other was his younger mirror image … Slade recognized them right away.

  “That’s Sweeny Barese,” Slade murmured in a low voice. “Head of the Barese Borgata. Next to him is his son, Damon. Wonder why they’re stooping to a meeting like this.”

  “You think it’s a setup?” Kix asked.

  Slade looked around. No lights, no sounds except for the crickets … no life at all in the ghost town.

  “I don’t get that feeling,” he said.

  “Neither do I. Although I wouldn’t put it past the gorilla guard to go ape on our asses.”

  Sweeney opened his arms in a show of friendship as well as proving he wasn’t packing a gun. Damon hung back slightly, showing deference. Slade and Kix approached slowly, keeping their hands out in the open, their own sign that they would keep the peace.

  “The White Death MC,” Sweeney greeted. “I thank you for coming on such short notice. Good to see you again, Michael.”

  “Mr. Barese,” Slade replied politely. He’d learned long ago the art of keeping his tone neutral. “Damon. This is Kix Rockwood, president of The White Death.”

  “I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Rockwood,” Sweeney said. “Again, thank you for this unusual meeting. This is George. He doesn’t say much.”

  As if to prove the statement, George simply gave a silent nod hello.

  Kix gestured around the parking lot where the weeds had begun to poke through the cracked pavement. “Interesting place for a meeting.”

  “I know, but at least I can trust we’ve not been followed, nor are we being recorded.”

  Slade frowned. What was so confidential as to warrant such precautions?

  “Time is of the essence in these circumstances,” Sweeney continued. “One can never take too much precaution when bullets fly too close to home.”

  Confused, Slade glanced at Kix, who gave a one shoulder shrug.

  “Yes, well, what would you like to discuss, Mr. Barese?” Kix asked.

  “We had a mutual supplier that’s now gone belly-up,” Damon said, speaking up for the first time.

  “You mean Warren Cabot,” Kix said.

  “Yes,” Sweeney replied. “His death brought the Feds down upon his company, Cabot Pharmaceuticals, leaving us to scramble like mice on a sinking ship. I’ve had G-men knocking on my door every day since then.”

  “Obviously they’ve found nothing,” Damon said.

  “It’s taken a lot of money to make sure they’ve found nothing,” Sweeney replied dryly. “But that’s not why I called you. I see a potential step toward creating a new alliance between our organizations.”

  Now Slade was more confused than ever. The White Death operated in a completely different circle than the Barese Family organization.

  “Alliance?” Kix asked. Slade figured he was just as confused. “What could we possibly have that you would need? Other than a cook, perhaps, for the meth production.”

  Sweeney shook his head. “No, I don’t need a chemist, I simply need transportation. If we can agree on mutually beneficial monetary terms, I think you’d be the perfect people to run our product up and down the Mississippi.”

  “Whoa,” Slade said, holding up a hand. “You think we’re suicidal? That’s the DiLuca route. We aren’t starting a turf war with them.”

  Sweeney looked at them in confusion for a moment. “That would be impossible.”

  “Impossible? I know Tony DiLuca. There’s no way he’d release that route.”

  “Hold on,” Damon said, holding up a hand. “Are you saying you haven’t heard?”

  Unease rolled through Slade. “Heard what?”

  “It’s why I called you,” Sweeney said. “I know you used to work for Tony DiLuca and I thought it would be a good symbolic gesture, but if we don’t act swiftly, there will be others who’ll claim it.”

  Slade took a step forward, hands balling into fists. At his threatening stance, the bodyguard George took a forward step, showing he was ready to protect his boss.

  “Tell me what the hell you’re talking about!”

  Damon shook his head sadly. “Oh, my God, you really don’t know.”

  “I’m so sorry to tell you this,” Sweeney murmured, “but Tony DiLuca and his family were … well, he and his kids were shot. None of them survived.”

  Slade blinked, waiting for the punch line. When that didn’t come, he waited for someone to yell April Fool’s, but when that wasn’t forthcoming, denial quickly flashed through his head. There was no way they could all be dead. He would’ve heard about it. He and Normandy might be separated, but he would’ve felt something. She was the other half of his soul. Slade turned around and pulled out his phone, punching in the number he knew by heart.

  “Pick up, Normandy,” he muttered under his breath. It became his prayer. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Please… God damn it!”

  He ended the call as soon her voice mail clicked on. He spun back around and pointed at Sweeney.

  “Where’s my wife?” he demanded.

  Sweeney’s eyes widened. “Your wife? Normandy DiLuca is your wife?”

  Slade charged him, ignoring George and the yells from Kix. He pulled Sweeney up by the collar to stare him in the eye.

  “What did you do to her?” he yelled. George’s mighty fist grabbed the back of his leather jacket in an effort to dislodge his grip.

  “Michael, stop this!” Da
mon yelled.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Sweeney replied calmly. He held up a hand to keep George back. “I came here as a symbolic gesture to the DiLuca memory, for you to take over their distribution route. I had no idea you hadn’t heard of the tragedy.”

  Slade didn’t want to believe him and he didn’t know how to react. His brain and heart were screaming that it wasn’t true, and everything had gone numb. He couldn’t understand how the world hadn’t stopped spinning, because all his momentum drained away with the thought that Normandy was dead. He released Sweeney and stumbled back. Kix took hold of his arm to help steady him.

  “I… I have to go,” he managed to mumble. Everything was a blur, the darkness of the night bleeding out to trap him. He couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything except the fact that the woman he loved more than anything was no longer breathing.

  When he tried to pull free, Kix tightened this hold. “No. You can’t ride like this.”

  “Let me go,” he muttered and yanked away. “No, no, no. She’s not dead. You hear me? She’s not dead!”

  He hurried back to his bike, revved the engine, and without looking back to the men, spun out of the parking lot as if the demons of hell chased him. St. Louis was several hours away, but he had to find her. And if he discovered she was dead, he would hunt down the motherfucker who put her in the ground and torture him slowly.

  Chapter Two

  The sun hadn’t yet risen as Slade entered the Ladue area of St. Louis, where Tony DiLuca had set up residence long ago. The wealth lining the streets of the affluent neighborhood could clearly been seen by the large houses and pristine lawns. He’d grown up the complete opposite of Normandy DiLuca— an unwanted kid who’d learned early on how to use his fists when the need arose, while she’d been the pampered princess of a mafia boss. It had been that reputation that had attracted Tony DiLuca, who’d recruited him to work for the family business. Mostly drugs, but some gun running as well. Moving up through the ranks fairly quickly, Normandy had been a little girl who sailed under his radar. It wasn’t until she’d finished school in Italy and had come home that he’d been punched in the stomach. The old cliché of falling in love instantly hadn’t meant much until she’d walked back into his life, a goddess in a summer dress and combat boots.