Falcon's Angel (24 page)

“We belong to each other, Angel.”

He set her down on the side of the bed in a rustle of black silk. Digging into his pocket, he knelt before her.

“I love you, Sacha Angelina Cardiff, now and forever.” He slipped the canary yellow diamond on her finger. “Will you finally do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” Angel sobbed, and then squealed, “Yes, yes, yes!” She pulled him up on the bed. His tux and her tulle ended up in a pile on the floor.

When Angel was wearing nothing but the huge solitaire that matched her tiger’s eyes, she said. “I’ve missed you so very much.”

He covered her with his body. “Promise that you will never go to bed angry at me again.”

“When you are not there, will you call me, no matter where you are, so that I don’t worry?”

“Deal.”

She giggled. “Let’s kiss on it.”

Her skin drew him, so sleek and warm. He inhaled her scent, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close, enjoying the feel of her nipples against him.

“I don’t suppose we … you know … back then?”

“Margaux wanted to wait until the wedding and Marchese Falco was trying hard to be the noble gentleman.”

“Margaux died a virgin.”

Falcon stopped nibbling her neck. “Do you think the Marchese Falco shirked his duty?” When he thought of that hellish time, he had endured after Margaux’s death he considered it a very real possibility and now felt compelled to explain. “It was an honor, a gift that young women in those days gave their husband.”

“The life together that Margaux and Marchese Falco missed, it is tragic.”

“Margaux would not go against her parent’s wishes.”

“Quite right.” Angel appeared to be mollified by his explanation, but her eyes were filled with mischief. Her hand traveled down. “So, you mean she would not have done this.” She gripped him, stroking her hand up and down.

He groaned, and her lips quirked into a satisfied grin.

“It is … hard … to imagine.” Falcon removed her hand and clasped it on the pillow above her head. “Ah, Angel, love found a way and for that I am grateful because I will never get enough of you, in this life or the next.”

He impaled her on a very hard shaft.

“Ah-h…” was all Angel could manage. In the next breath, she wrapped her legs around him.

Now it was his turn to give her a satisfied grin. But neither of them was satisfied yet, and he was beginning to feel like he was shirking his duty.

Falcon moved in and out of her slowly until that wasn’t enough, until their limbs slammed together in satisfying heat, their bodies’ slick with exertion, until she cried out his name. He rammed into her one last time, pushing her down into the mattress when he filled her.

Chapter Fifteen

There was no reason to wait. The first week of November, a week after the Arcangelo Corelli symphony and Falcon’s proposal of marriage, they settled accounts with the surly Signor Parisi at the
Casa di Città.

Signor Parisi ignored Falcon, but wiped away tears when Angel kissed him goodbye.

Angel was flattered until Falcon explained the difference between what it should have cost her to rent such a small apartment on the
Piazza Avellino
and what Signor Parisi had charged her.

Inside the Naples airport, Falcon hadn’t yet boarded his flight back to Rome when Angel called his cell. She’d met his mother in Tuscany and they had made their plane. There was no time to spare if they were to put on the wedding of the year in North Yorkshire in one month’s time.

Before he could join the others in England, Falcon still had Darien and his doubts to deal with. Once in Rome, he stopped at headquarters before going to his apartment on the
Via Veneto
.

Granger met him in the foyer and together they walked down the corridor to his office.

“Is this how it’s going to be when you’re married? You don’t answer your phone anymore? Where you been, man?”

“On a plane, Everett.” Falcon put his bags down on the carpet and walked over to his desk. “What’s going on?”

Granger leaned against the doorjamb. “Alfonso Ruggiero and Luciano Biagi were being transported,”

Falcon rifled through the pile of reports on his desk, looking for the one on Ruggiero and Biagi. Granger had stopped talking.

“Tell me something, Grange.”

“They were in two separate cars, two armed guards with each of them. Luciano Biagi got away.”

Falcon punched the file cabinet. “I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance. What the hell happened?”

Granger shook his head. “All we know is Biagi and one guard disappeared. The other guard woke up in the trunk somewhere between here and the airport. He’s talking weird. Said a black fog surrounded them. It came out of nowhere. One minute it was a beautiful day, the next minute he couldn’t see through the windshield. He’s probably just freaked out.”

Falcon shook his head. “He didn’t just freak out. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“They put Biagi in the car. He made a big deal about his personal effects, saying he didn’t want anybody stealing his ring.”

“What ring?”

“That cult ring, the dragon and ruby thing.”

“Who gave him the ring?”

“The guard who disappeared,” Granger said slowly. “Biagi calmed down after the guard let him wear it for the drive. That’s all the other guard remembers before the black fog.”

“What do you have on the missing guard?”

“Nothing yet. He was with the polizia a couple of years. His name checks out.”

“He is
il Dragone
,” Falcon said quietly. “Did you check flights?”

“They’re checking now.”

“Confiscate Ruggiero’s ring, earrings, whatever has the
il Dragone
symbol on it,” Falcon said. “Tell the facility we’re keeping it and if they want it they have to see me.”

Darien strode past Granger to stop in the middle of Falcon’s office. “Where is the Cardiff girl?”

“My fiancée, Darien. You can say it.”

Darien wouldn’t look him in the eye. The skin on the nape of Falcon’s neck prickled as Alfonso Ruggiero’s words came back to him.

‘You have taken from us, and now il Dragone will not stop until they have destroyed what is most dear to you.’

“A man fitting Luciano Biagi’s description boarded a plane to England this afternoon,” Darien said.

Falcon pushed past him and grabbed his bags.

“The charter is waiting,” Darien called after him. “Tariq will drive you.”

Granger followed Falcon to the foyer. “You want me to call Cardiff?”

“I’ll call him on the way.”

Granger grabbed his arm before he crossed the threshold. “Stay calm and stay in touch.”

Falcon jumped into the car waiting for him at the curb.

* * * *

Falcon thought he’d caught a break when air traffic congestion delayed Luciano Biagi’s flight, but it wasn’t to be.

The commercial flights were backed up on the Leeds Airport runway, waiting to debark passengers. That included the flight carrying Angel and his mother.

He had only just arrived himself. Roman’s security detail briefed him on the arrangements. Angel and his mother would be met as planned, but not by Amelie and James. They would leave the airport under escort.

“Flight one sixty-seven at gate nine in ten minutes,” he heard in his ear.

Falcon moved to the newsstand in front of the camera shop, and leafed through a travel book on Spain. He made eye contact with the man in the camera shop, whose raincoat concealed a shoulder holster. The man took the camera he was admiring to the cashier.

Passengers of flight one sixty-seven came through the gate.

Falcon moved forward. He looked each passenger over and watched the families that met them, the lovers that hugged them.

Il Dragone
could be anywhere.

He kept his expression neutral, but it made him sick to his stomach to realize that the cult was stronger than ever. And now they knew Angel’s true identity.

If it took him this lifetime into the next, he would kill them all. They could pick Luciano up today, and
il Dragone
would never stop coming. Angel would never be safe.

This wasn’t the world he wanted to raise their children in.

“Flight one twenty-two, gate five,” came over the earpiece.

Angel and his mother were on that plane. He couldn’t see the gate from here, but Roman’s people were waiting for them.

The last group of passengers of flight one sixty-seven came through the gate.

“Target approaching,” the man in the camera shop said through the earpiece.

There was a tall man, brawny and dark, and wearing sunglasses on this rainy evening in Leeds.

Falcon moved forward, nearly blocking the man’s path and no longer caring if he was recognized. The man glanced at him, and stepped to the side.

A woman approached the man, who grinned and took off the sunglasses. They kissed and walked past him arm in arm.

“That’s not him,” he said under his breath.

The last passenger to come through the gate was an elderly woman, escorted by an attendant.

Falcon walked over to an airport security guard standing near the gate, and showed the man his I.D. “Where are the pilots?”

“They’ve come through already, sir. Through there.” The guard pointed to an exit just off the gate. The door wasn’t visible from where he’d been standing when the passengers came through.

He moved past the airport guard. The man holding his newly purchased camera was by his side. He opened the door to a quiet white-walled corridor.

“You go up, I’ll go down.”

More security came through the door behind them and arrangements were made to cover the entire building.

Falcon and three guards took the stairs down, while the camera guy and his friends went up.

They went down three flights to reach a locked door at the bottom of the stairwell. No one had left or entered through this door, it was padlocked from the inside.

He started back up the stairs, with the guards behind him. “Nothing down here,” he said into his microphone. “How is flight one twenty-two?”

No answer.

“Come in on flight one twenty-two.”

There was static on the line.

Falcon took the stairs two at a time.

He reached the terminal level and pushed past a group of passengers from the next flight coming through gate nine. He ran through the terminal all the way to gate five, which was now empty.

“Baggage Claim,” he shouted to the guards.

He heard his mother before he saw her. She was laughing, thanking someone in her hearty Italian.

The man was as tall as he, and bulky. Luciano Biagi’s hair was cut short, military style, under the airport cap. He bent to pick up the two suitcases.

Falcon was almost there when his mother saw him.

“Armand!” His mother started walking towards him, but Luciano grabbed her. Holding her in front of him, he pressed a gun to her temple. The symbol of
il Dragone
glittered on his ring finger.

A guard ran out of the crowd and rushed Luciano. He didn’t get far. Luciano shot him between the eyes. The man dropped face down on the terminal floor.

“He’s dead!” Someone screamed. Suitcases were forgotten, baggage carriers deserted as people pushed and shoved their way through the terminal. A baby’s unending wail mingled with the background noise of airport alarms.

Overhead, shadows crawled across the airport’s ceiling.

Roman’s guard came out of the men’s room, holding his head. Blood ran through his fingers and trickled down his white cuffs. He saw Luciano in front of him and straightened.

“Zia Delfina! No!” Angel ran through the restroom door and came to a halt.

“Arr-maand,” Luciano grinned in satisfaction. “Son of Zia Delfina, no? Back away, Armand, if you want Mama to live.”

Falcon glanced up as the shadows on the ceiling came closer. He trained the Glock on the center of Luciano’s forehead. “Let her go. This is between you and me.”

“Put down your weapon!” Airport security shouted from where abandoned luggage littered the floor. Four of them came up slowly, guns trained on Luciano.

The light panels above the guard’s heads flickered as long shadows moved over them.

“Stop them, Arr-maand.” Luciano turned this way and that trying to keep an eye on the guards with an arm around Falcon’s mother’s fringed shawl.

Falcon raised a hand, and airport security stopped advancing, but did not put down their weapons. They glanced up at the light panels as a few flickered out.

Falcon met Angel’s gaze and she started walking backward towards the restroom door, her high heels clicking.

“Bell-e-za,” Luciano called, but didn’t take his eyes off Falcon. “Come, Belleza. Or Mama dies, eh?”

Falcon’s mother cursed Luciano, struggling in his arms.

Angel walked towards the laughing Luciano.

“Angel,” Falcon warned.

Luciano cocked the gun at Falcon’s mother’s temple. Angel kept walking.

The cameraman closed in on Luciano, just out of his sight on the other side of the baggage carousel, but Angel was already at Luciano’s side.

“Now,” Luciano moved away from the armed group and the darkness overhead followed. “We are going to leave this place. No one will follow, or I kill them.”

“Come, Belleza,” Luciano glanced in Angel’s direction, but faced the butt of a guard’s gun instead, just before it hit him on the temple. He loosened his grip on Falcon’s mother and the camera man dragged her away.

Luciano turned to launch himself at the guard and stopped cold when Falcon stuck a gun in his back.

Falcon relieved Luciano of his gun. Pulling the symbol of
il Dragone
off Luciano’s finger, he put it in his pocket. “Take her out of here, Angel.”

Angel hugged Falcon’s mother, and then pulled her away.

“Ciao, Belleza. I will see you again.” Luciano brought up an elbow but before it made contact with Falcon’s abdomen, he shackled Luciano’s wrists behind his back.

Angel stopped, her warm vanilla skin flushed with anger. Tiger’s eyes went wild as she looked at Luciano.

“Angel…”

The punch hit Luciano high on the cheek, rocking his head back.

Rubbing her knuckles, Angel spit in Luciano’s face. “I hope you rot in hell!”

“He’s not going to have that opportunity,” Falcon said just loud enough for her to hear.

Angel looked into his eyes and slowly nodded.

She knew what he meant, but that was not as surprising as her consent. She was already an assassin’s wife. He wasn’t so sure that’s what he wanted her to be.

Angel went to his mother, who heaped curses on Luciano as she backed away.

“Will you look at that?” An airport security guard was staring up at the ceiling.

The shadows receded. They slid into the walls and around corners. All the ceiling panels were functioning now.

Angel was staring at the ceiling. When she looked at Falcon, the questions in her eyes reminded him that she was still so innocent. She had no idea what they were up against, and he decided then that he couldn’t tell her.

She was going to get the beautiful wedding she wanted. She was going to be happy if he had to kill all the devils in the world to make it so.

Falcon winked. “I’ll see you soon.”

Angel turned her back then and hurried through the terminal with his mother and three guards.

Roman came towards them in a way that made Falcon wonder if he’d corrupted the entire family. He was sure he had when Roman stopped inches from Luciano’s face. “Where is it?” Roman asked.

Falcon dug into his pocket and took out Luciano’s ring. The rubies in the dragon’s eyes glinted under the airport lights. “Here.”

Roman’s smile was slow satisfaction. “Well, then, the jet is waiting.”

“Let’s be on our way.” Falcon escorted Luciano onto the Cardiff jet bound for Rome.

* * * *

Darien leaned against the doorframe. “So, tell me. How does one fall out of a plane in flight?”

Falcon put down the report on the police officer who’d helped Luciano escape on the way to prison. Either confident or ignorant, the man hadn’t even left the country. He’d been spotted in Naples’s Spanish Quarter.

“Luciano Biagi was going to jail for the rest of his life anyway,” he said.

Darien came into the office and sat on a chair in front of his desk. “No. I don’t think so. I think you knew Luciano Biagi was going to fall thirty-four thousand feet to his death before you escorted him onto that plane.”

Falcon leaned back in his chair. “What I know is just how twisted a place the world is.” He wanted to tell Darien who he’d been, the passionate Signor Tarcisio who spent his life trying to root out the evil in Forlì two hundred years ago, all for nothing.

Il Dragone
was stronger than before, and had grown to ridiculous numbers. He wanted to explain how many people had been killed by
il Dragone
over the centuries. How many more would join the cult in a world where bored teenagers were searching for something to belong to, championing the latest cause against their government.