Kiss The Killer

Fire and Blood

Siena POV

The burner phone rang at 2 AM.

I jerked awake, heart hammering as I fumbled for it in

the darkness. Only one person had this number.

"Hello?"

"Get dressed. Now." Lucian's voice was sharp, urgent.

"I'm picking you up in ten minutes."

"What? Why?"

"Pedro made his move. Someone torched your cafe

tonight."

The words hit me like ice water. "What?"

"Angelo's is gone, Siena. Burned to the ground. And

there was a message spray-painted on the wall next

door." His voice dropped to something deadly. "It had

your name on it."

My hands shook as I scrambled out of bed. "Is Angelo

okay? What about the other employees?"

"Everyone's fine. It happened after closing. But this is a

warning, and the next one won't be so clean."

I threw on jeans and a sweater, my mind racing. My job.

My only source of income besides the pathetic work-

study position at the library. Gone.

"How do you know Pedro did this?"

"Because he's not as smart as he thinks he is. Get

downstairs. Black car, tinted windows."

The line went dead.

I grabbed my keys and ran downstairs, finding the car

idling at the curb just like he'd said. The back door

opened as I approached.

"Get in."

Lucian sat in the shadows, his face hard as stone. He was

dressed in all black again, and there was something

different about him tonight. More dangerous. More...

feral.

"Show me," I said as soon as the door closed.

He handed me his phone. The photo made my stomach

lurch. Angelo's Cafe was nothing but a charred skeleton,

smoke still rising from the wreckage. And there, on the

brick wall of the building next door, someone had spray-

painted in red letters: "SIENA CARTER BURNS NEXT."

"Oh God," I whispered.

"Pedro's sending a message. He wants you scared.

Isolated. Dependent on him for protection."

"Well, it's working." I handed the phone back with

shaking fingers. "I'm terrified."

"Good. Fear keeps you alive." The car pulled away from

the curb, heading toward the warehouse district. "But

now we accelerate the timeline."

"What timeline?"

"Getting you inside the Torrino operation." He turned to

face me, and in the dim light from passing streetlamps,

his eyes looked almost black. "Tonight."

"Tonight? Are you insane? I'm not ready. I don't know

anything about—"

"You'll learn fast, or you'll die slow. Those are your

options."

The car stopped in front of a neon-lit club I'd never seen

before. The bass line from inside made the windows

vibrate, and a line of college kids stretched around the

block.

"What is this place?"

"Torrino territory. They run drugs through here, using

students as dealers and customers." Lucian reached into

his jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with

white powder. "Congratulations. You're now in the

market for cocaine."

I stared at the bag in horror. "I'm not doing drugs."

"You're not doing them. You're buying them. There's a

difference."

"I won't—"

"You will." His voice went cold. "Because Pedro's people

are watching. Because you need to establish yourself as a

potential customer before you can work your way up the

chain. And because if you don't, that message on the wall

becomes a promise."

He pressed the bag into my palm, his fingers covering

mine. "There's a guy inside named Marcus. Twenty-

something, blond hair, Northwestern University

sweatshirt. He's been dealing to sorority girls all

semester. You're going to buy from him, get his number,

and set up regular purchases."

"What if he doesn't believe I'm a user?"

"You're a broke college student whose life just got

torched. Everyone will believe you need an escape." His

grip tightened on my hand. "But Siena? Don't actually

use it. Ever. These people eat weakness for breakfast."

The car door opened, and I found myself on the sidewalk

outside the club. The bouncer looked me up and down

with bored eyes.

"Twenty-dollar cover," he grunted.

I started to reach for my wallet, but Lucian appeared

beside me, sliding a fifty across the bouncer's palm.

"She's with me."

Inside, the club was a writhing mass of bodies and

strobing lights. The music was so loud I could feel it in

my bones. Lucian guided me through the crowd with a

possessive hand on my lower back.

"There," he said in my ear, his breath warm against my

skin. "Northwestern sweatshirt by the bar."

I spotted Marcus immediately. He looked exactly like

what central casting would order for a college drug

dealer: good-looking in a generic way, expensive clothes,

the kind of smile that probably worked on naive

freshmen.

"What do I say?"

"That you heard he could help with stress relief. Keep it

vague. Let him lead the conversation." Lucian's hand

moved to my waist, pulling me closer. "And remember,

you're mine. If anyone asks, if anyone even looks at you

wrong, you tell them you're with Lucian Romano."

"What if they know what that means?"

"Then they'll leave you alone." His lips brushed against

my ear. "Go. I'll be watching."

I made my way to the bar, every nerve ending on fire.

Marcus was talking to a girl who couldn't have been

older than eighteen, her pupils already dilated from

whatever he'd sold her.

"Excuse me," I said, sliding up next to them. "I heard

you might be able to help me with something."

Marcus looked me over with practiced eyes. "Depends

what you need help with, sweetheart."

There was that word again. It sounded wrong coming

from him, cheap and meaningless.

"I'm having trouble sleeping. Concentrating. Someone

said you had something that might help me relax."

"Rough semester?" He leaned closer, and I caught a

whiff of expensive cologne mixed with sweat. "What's

your major?"

"Journalism."

His smile widened. "Stressful field. Lots of deadlines,

pressure to perform." He glanced around, then pulled

out his phone. "I think I have exactly what you need. But

not here. Too many people."

He jerked his head toward a door marked "Private" near

the back of the club. My blood went cold.

"I'd rather stay here," I said.

"And I'd rather not get arrested." His hand closed

around my wrist, not gentle like Lucian's touch, but

possessive in a way that made my skin crawl. "Come on.

It'll just take a minute."

I looked back toward where Lucian had been standing,

but the crowd had shifted and I couldn't see him. Panic

clawed at my throat.

"I should get back to my friends," I said, trying to pull

away.

Marcus's grip tightened. "What friends? You came

alone."

No, I didn't. I was with—

"Siena?"

Pedro's voice made me freeze. He appeared out of the

crowd like a bad dream, his smile sharp as a knife.

"Pedro," I breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you, I imagine." His eyes flicked to

Marcus, then back to me. "Though I have to say, I'm

surprised to see you here so soon after your little

workplace accident."

The way he said it made it clear he knew exactly what

had happened to Angelo's. Had probably ordered it

himself.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Don't you?" He stepped closer, and I found myself

trapped between him and Marcus. "Poor little Siena, all

alone in the big bad city. No job, no money, no one to

protect her."

"She's not alone."

Lucian's voice cut through the music like a blade. He

materialized behind Pedro, and suddenly the

temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Pedro turned slowly, his smile never wavering.

"Romano. How nice to see you slumming with the

college crowd."

"How nice to see you threatening women in public. Very

classy."

"Threatening?" Pedro laughed. "I was offering comfort

to a friend in need."

"Were you?" Lucian moved closer, and I could see the

violence coiled in his muscles. "Because it looked like

intimidation to me."

Marcus, who had been watching this exchange with

growing alarm, tried to back away. Lucian's hand shot

out, gripping his shoulder.

"Going somewhere, Marcus? We were just getting

acquainted."

"I don't know who you are, man, but—"

"I'm someone you don't want to disappoint." Lucian's

voice was conversational, but his grip made Marcus

wince. "Siena here is under my protection. That means

anyone who sells to her, talks to her, or even looks at her

wrong answers to me. Are we clear?"

Marcus nodded frantically. "Crystal."

"Good. Now disappear."

Marcus bolted into the crowd like his ass was on fire.

Pedro clapped slowly. "Very impressive. But you can't

protect her forever, Romano. Eventually, she'll need to

choose a side."

"She already has."

"Has she?" Pedro's eyes locked with mine. "Tell me,

Siena, what did Lucian promise you? Safety? Security?

Money?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Pedro wasn't

finished.

"Because I can offer you something he can't. Legitimacy.

A future that doesn't end with a bullet in your head or a

concrete necklace at the bottom of the harbor."

"She's not interested," Lucian said.

"Let her speak for herself." Pedro stepped closer,

ignoring Lucian completely. "What's it going to be,

sweetheart? The devil you know or the one you don't?"

Before I could answer, the lights went out.

Emergency lighting kicked in, bathing everything in

hellish red. People screamed. Glass shattered. And in the

chaos, I felt hands grab me from behind.

"Lucian!" I screamed.

But when the lights came back on thirty seconds later, I

wasn't in the club anymore.

I was in the back of a van, zip-tied to a metal chair,

staring at three men in ski masks.

And one of them was holding a very large knife.

"Hello, Siena," the man with the knife said. His voice

was cultured, educated. "We need to have a little chat about your boyfriend.”