War (Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 5) (2 page)

M
ilan

“
G
ood job today
, Milan,” Tommy said.

He was still buttoned up tight, though his black suit jacket looked boxy on his lanky frame. It was a part of the package. Tommy had owned his catering company for decades, and even now, as he neared sixty, he still hadn’t quite managed to find a suit that fit as it should. But he’d shaved, so his thin, weathered face had an air of professionalism that was usually missing when he allowed his wild, scraggly gray beard and mustache to grown in.

His appearance notwithstanding, Tommy was a pure professional and ran top-notch events, so his services were always in demand.

“Thanks, Tommy,” I said.

“No problem, kid,” he replied.

He accompanied his words with a hearty pat on my back that sent me hurtling forward so hard, I had to reach out to grip the metal prep table to balance myself. There was deceptive power in his thin hands, something he sometimes lost track of. I looked back at him knowingly and smiled.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing, something that was incongruous but adorable in the almost sixty-year-old man, “but you were clutch today.”

“Really?” I said.

He nodded and smiled as big as I had ever seen him. “Yeah. I might slide a little something extra in your check,” he whispered, though the basement kitchen was silent.

The cleanup crew had loaded our gear into Tommy’s vans, and he and I were alone in the kitchen that had served as our staging area.

“Extra?” I said, raising a brow.

He shrugged, the motion making his lapels flop against his chest. “Yeah, maybe,” he said.

I laughed again, knowing that Tommy, no matter how grateful, was highly unlikely to slide anything extra into anyone’s check. “Thanks, Tommy,” I said, deciding not to call him on that point. He paid a fair wage, so I couldn’t give him too hard a time.

“No, thank you, Milan. Take the next couple days off,” he said.

“I will,” I replied.

Tommy patted me again and then moved toward the kitchen stairwell as I left through the back entrance and began to walk toward my car.

It had been a long, grueling day, and I was more than ready to get off my feet. The church was huge and accommodated both the ceremony, which had begun about half an hour after the scheduled time, and the reception. Unusual, particularly since the alcohol had flowed unabated, but I hadn’t had much time to think about it.

We had been short-staffed, a fact that had surprised me given the size of the party, but Tommy had said something about not being able to find enough “acceptable” people, which meant I had ended up doing enough work for three or four.

I didn’t mind, though. Moving helped the time go faster, and I had a nice little payday to look forward to.

I hadn’t paid much attention during the event, and usually didn’t. At this point, they had all started to run together and with so few hands to help, I had had to focus. But from what I had seen, it had been an interesting crowd.

Had I not seen the way they looked at each other with deep love and affection, I would never have thought the bride and groom were a couple. And not because they were different races. That difference didn’t even really strike me. The bride, she seemed so…normal.

The man she had married did not.

In fact, as I thought back on it, the whole event had been a little odd…interesting. If I was being honest, there were lots of menacing guys and more tattoos than I’d ever seen. Lots of elaborately dressed, heavily made-up women. Then, here and there, people that wouldn’t have stood out elsewhere but only did because they were so normal when compared with the others there.

Weird, weird group. The guests had been boisterous, loud, but no one had done anything remotely out of line, even as the drinking had begun. Odd because there was usually at least one who got out of hand at every wedding, but even the drunkest guests had been well-behaved. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but there had been an undercurrent of tension at the event.

The bride and groom had been joyful, clearly in love, but there had been something in the air that hadn’t quite sat right with me and had kept some distant part of me on edge.

I walked outside, brushing aside thoughts of the event. Whoever they were, they were paying double, and the day had been a success. I’d have to thank Tiffany for twisting my arm when I saw her, as she probably knew I would.

Today’s payday would make a lovely addition to the dream fund, so aching feet aside, all was good.

“Bye, Al,” I said as I waved at a coworker.

“See you at the next one, Milan,” he replied as he waved back and walked in the opposite direction.

I continued toward the parking lot where the staff had parked, the late-evening air warm, the sky dusky orange as the sun continued to set. A pretty early end for one of these events, though I suspected the party would continue elsewhere. I was happy to get home before dark and looked forward to taking off my long-sleeved shirt.

As I walked, I worked the top two buttons open and sighed with relief at the first brush of cool air against my skin. I thought about pulling out the pins that held my hair in its tight ponytail. I waited, though, and instead reached into my pocket and got my car key.

I stuck the key into the lock, opened the door, and then sat in the driver’s seat.

Pop.

I froze, my hand still on the door handle, and looked toward the sound.

Pop. Pop, pop, pop.

What the fuck?

I glanced around wildly, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. The sounds were quiet, muffled; they reminded me of firecrackers. The air suddenly felt different, charged.

Pop. Pop.

No. My stomach dropped and my blood turned to sludge in my veins, everything seeming to slow to a crawl. Then, after that moment’s beat, a shot of adrenaline bolted through me like an electric shock. Where before had been slowness, the world began to move at lightning speed, my heart thundering, my lungs tight, the wild swing of emotion making me dizzy.

That wasn’t firecrackers.

Someone was shooting.

P
riest

I
’d stayed far longer
than I’d intended. As I had anticipated, everyone who mattered, and those who wanted to, had been in attendance at the wedding because the event provided a chance to talk and, more importantly, observe, an opportunity far too valuable to pass up.

And the wedding itself had been interesting.

Vasile had believed the words of love and forever that he had spoken, and if I had been capable, I might have believed them too.

The festivities were winding down now, and I made my way to the front of the church to watch Vasile leave. He had a protective arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders, held his daughter in the other as they moved toward the waiting SUV.

Well-wishers cheered them as they moved, and I noticed the way he tightened his grip on his bride’s shoulders. An attempt to calm her, no doubt. She’d been the picture of a woman in love, but I hadn’t missed the tension around her eyes, the wariness that had shone through when she hadn’t thought anyone was watching.

Wise of her.

This group, so happy and congratulatory now, would turn on Vasile, on her, in a heartbeat, so she was wise to be wary.

One of Vasile’s men opened the SUV’s door, and as the bride prepared to get in, I turned to exit.

I hadn’t made it one step before I heard the sound.

Pop
.

A shot.

Pop. Pop, pop, pop.

Four more. The weapon was sound-suppressed, but I’d recognize gunfire anywhere.

The others would too, which was why the crowd that had been so seemingly happy moments ago shifted in instant mayhem. Well wishes turned to screams and idle milling became panicked pushing and shoving to get as far away from the shots as they could.

I used that panic to my advantage and as the crowd surged right, I went left, walking toward the side of the church, which would lead me to a back entrance, my only way out.

As I walked, moving swiftly but not running, I glanced over my shoulder and met Vasile’s arctic eyes. He looked away quickly, though, and pushed his wife and daughter into the SUV.

I looked away too, more intent on making my exit. There was panic now, but that would soon become anger, and that anger would lead to retribution. I would make the perfect target.

Unlike Vasile and the others, I didn’t have a clan, an organization, soldiers. That made me suspect, and despite my resources and respect, the odds here were not in my favor. I needed to get out of here. Doing so would make me look weak and even more suspicious, but it would keep me alive, at least for now.

So I rounded the church, searching the surroundings for an exit. My car was too far away, but there had to be another here.

There.

A sedan sat in the parking lot, pointed in the direction I needed to go, the driver’s body half in, half out of the vehicle.

I moved fast now, headed directly to the car.

The driver was an unwanted complication, but I’d just found my escape route.

M
ilan

I
looked back
toward the direction I had come from, heard another
pop
, and saw Al begin to run.

“Oh my God!” I screamed, my mind still trying to deny what I knew was true, my body moving on autopilot, instinct screaming at me to get out of here.

I pulled my door closed and jammed the key into the ignition, my trembling hands making my movements slow, clumsy. I turned the ignition, but nothing happened, and I almost screamed my frustration. My mind had finally caught up with my body, and both were yelling at me to get out of here, the need to do so so acute, my urgency was making me clumsy.

Then I put my foot on the brake pedal and tried again, relief flooding me when the engine turned over.

I put my hand on the gearshift and moved it to Drive.

A sound stopped me before I could slam on the accelerator.

I turn toward the sound of my passenger door opening and saw a huge form. A man, I realized a split second later.

A man who was now in my car.

The last rays of sun bounced off my windshield and obscured his face, but for some reason, I knew his eyes were on me. A long moment passed, then another, and then the shock of the moment broke. I looked away and started to scream.

“Drive,” he said.

I screamed louder, threw the door open, and tried to get out of the car, but when I lifted my foot, the car began to roll, so on instinct, I put my foot back down again.

“Close the door and drive,” he said, his voice still quiet but more urgent now. Something in that stranger’s urgency pierced the haze of my mind.

I pulled the door closed, and then I slammed on the gas.

P
riest

T
he woman drove erratically
at first, but the farther we got from the church, the calmer she became.

Wished I could say the same.

Her outward appearance was frazzled, and I could see she was seconds away from falling apart. I couldn’t have that.

“Pull over,” I said.

The woman started to turn her head toward me, but didn’t.

She tightened her grip on the wheel and pressed the gas harder, and the car lurched forward.

“Pull over,” I said again.

She pushed the gas even harder, but after a tense breath, she complied and came to a stop on a side street.

“Put the car in Park,” I said.

Another breath, and she did as I said.

“Now look at me,” I said.

She shook her head. “N-no.”

“Look,” I repeated.

“No,” she said, turning away from me. “I haven’t seen your face. I don’t know who you are, don’t know anything. J-just get out of here and I’ll forget about you, forget I ever even saw you,” she said.

Her voice was trembling and I heard the undercurrent of tears, but she kept them in check. Admirable. Many would have given in to their fear, let their emotions overtake them, but she was putting up a fight, which told me she was strong. I hoped she was smart, too.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

I reached over and grabbed her chin with my hand and twisted her head until she faced me. She kept her eyes down, hooded, clearly not wanting to look at me.

As I grasped her chin, she shook her head, so I tightened my hold.

Then she looked up.

Eyes, dark as onyx and wet with unshed tears, met mine. And the instant our eyes met, my heart kicked, the force of it leaving a dull ache.

It could have been the adrenaline rush of the shooting, of these minutes after, but it wasn’t that.

The shooting was unfortunate, but hardly something that would make my heart beat faster. Yes, there would be work to do, issues to resolve because of it, but the days when something like a shooting got a reaction out of me had long passed.

What, then?

I watched her, considered.

Maybe it was a long-delayed reaction to someone else’s pain, their fear, something I had long ago become accustomed to. More plausible than my own fear, but the explanation still didn’t quite fit.

I let my gaze drop from her eyes, took the rest of her in. She was pretty in a goodish way, her face pleasant, and from what I could see of her body, she was curvy and strong, but I tried not to linger, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

So I met her eyes again, and again felt that kick, stronger this time, when I glimpsed the onyx orbs. Some of her tears had dried, a fact that made me far more pleased than it should have. Her tears, or lack thereof, were inconsequential to me—or should have been—but seeing them gone gave me a level of satisfaction that was too great to ignore.

How was this woman managing to affect me?

I stared more deeply, searching her eyes for some answer. I found none, but the longer I looked at her, stared into the inky darkness of her eyes, saw the way her long lashes swept against her cheeks when she blinked, the stronger the feeling got.

Then I realized, in just these few moments, I had come to like it.

Insanity, but still the truth.

But no matter what I felt or how little I understood it, I didn’t have the time to examine my reaction to her. I finally broke her gaze.

“You are Milan?” I asked after I had rummaged through her glove compartment and read her registration.

She nodded.

“I’m Priest,” I said, uncertain why I was offering my name.

She quirked her brow and then finally nodded curtly, so I continued.

“Milan,” I said as softly as I could as I again reached up and grasped her chin. “This is a bad day for you, and I want to keep it from getting any worse. I need to make a couple stops, and then you’re free to go. I just need you to drive. Can you do that for me, Milan? Just stay calm and drive.”

She blinked, and then nodded.

I dropped my hand, and my fingers trembled and tingled with the memory of her skin against mine.

“Okay. Go to this address,” I said.