Chapter 1

Rafael was having a bad night. It had started well, with drinks in a club with the sons of his fathers associates. They were all young and handsome and had plenty of money to slip into the lingerie of the prettiest strippers in Rome.

He had been having a piss when something pierced his neck. He had gone down on the clubs bathroom tiles, his dick still in his hands.

His father was going to be furious about that. That was if he managed to survive whatever was going to happen to him next.

Rafael could fight; hed had to learn how from a young age, but all the fighting skills in the world werent helpful when you were cuffed to a chair.

Little prince, are you awake yet? a voice called from the gloom. Only one light was on in the warehouse he was being held in, and it was pointed directly at his face.

What do you want? Rafael asked. He fought the childish urge to ask them if they knew who his father was. No one fucked with Michele Asellio, and messing with his son was the biggest mistake these assholes were ever going to make.

A man walked into the light. Big, muscled, meant to intimidate. If Rafael hadnt been tied up, he could have taken him in a fair fight. It wasnt going to be fair.

We have been trying to get your father to let us use the service of his ships occasionally, and hes refusing to see the bigger picture, the man said.

Rafael smiled. And you think taking his only son is going to convince him? All you are going to get is a bullet in your brain. The blow followed as he expected it.

There is no reasoning with idiots.Rafael wouldnt let them hear his grunts or cries of pain.

He was pulled out of the chair and hung on a hook like a prized catch. The blows were precise and methodical. They were meant to hurt but not be fatal. Maybe they werent as dumb as they appeared.

Blood was pouring from a cut in his head, and his vision was going dark. He tried to memorize each and every face so he could identify them later. If there was a later.

His father wouldnt get into bed with the mafia like many others. He wouldnt give them what they wanted.

Rafael didnt know which family was currently kicking the shit out of him, but he would find out. The Asellios had money and connections too, and they were all legal. His father was as ruthless as any mafia boss.

I thought a rich boy like you wouldve been begging for mercy by now, one of his assailants said with begrudging respect. At least crying for his mama.

Rafael spat a gob of blood out. Id rather cry for yours. She would probably appreciate a good-looking young man because your papa would have to be fuck ugly to father you.

The man snarled, lifting his fist again, but the hit never came. A small throwing knife was sticking out of his hand.

What the fuck— He went to pull the knife out as another lodged into his throat, and he was going down. Guns started firing, and Rafael knew he was going to die in the crossfire. A flash of gold glinted in the shadows, then it was gone again. Screams of dying men echoed all around him.

There will be more coming, so you better be able to walk, a voice said, and then the most stunning woman Rafael had ever seen appeared with a bloody dagger in her hand. He had been raised around beauty, but this woman was something else. She was built strong and was almost as tall as he was.

She was an Amazon, dressed in black pants, boots, and a turtleneck. She wasnt wearing body armor, just a leather back harness holding two swords. Her blonde braid didnt have a single hair out of place.

Can you talk, or have they cut out your tongue? she demanded with a voice that sounded like it belonged somewhere between the bedroom and the battlefield.

I... I can walk, I think, he stammered. The woman grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up and off the hook that held his chains. He was a tall guy and wasnt exactly light. How did she lift him so easily? Rafael caught a perfume of something darkly exotic before she put him on his feet.

Did my father send you? he asked, willing his legs to stay upright. He couldnt appear weak in front of anyone.

Michele is worried about you, so Im here to save your ass, the woman said and patted him down. No holes in you? Good. Lets go.

I would like to know the name of my rescuer, Rafael replied, following her into the darkness.

Im sure you would, ragazzo. Keep behind me. Dont try to be brave. The woman had her dagger free again. She bent down to pick up one of the batons from a body and passed it to him. Here, take this.

You dont want to give me one of those nice swords?

She huffed out a sound that was almost a laugh. I wouldnt want you to cut yourself. Baby boys use sticks only. Theres more of those assholes out there, and I promised Michele you wouldnt get shot. Dont make a liar out of me.

Rafael took the baton with a grin. Youre so mean.

Try to pretend you dont like it, she said, her returning smirk lighting up his blood. Maybe he did like it.

Rafael followed his strange savior out of the building and into the shadows between shipping containers.

Where are we? he whispered. He thought they were still in Rome. How long had he been knocked out for?

Sicily. All the airports are being watched. We are taking you out a different way so they cant get you, she whispered. She held up a hand to stop him from going further and peered around the side of the shipping container. Rafael glanced over her shoulder, getting another lungful of her perfume. It smelled expensive. He tried to focus and counted at least ten men with guns, all guarding a container loaded with wooden crates.

Im only going to say this once. Stay here until I come back for you. The mercenary stared him down. I mean it. No heroics. Im trained for this, and you arent.

I can help. I can fight, he protested.

Im sure you can, but youre not going to. She pinched his cheek. Be a good boy and do as youre told.

What will I get in return? he asked because he never could keep his mouth shut.

You will get to live with all your favorite parts still intact. She didnt wait for him to respond; she melted into the shadows, leaving him holding a baton with a sweaty hand and an awkward tightness in his pants.

Angela della morte. That was what he was going to call her. His angel of death.

Rafael peeked his head out only enough to watch whatever happened next. He saw men pulled into the shadows, disappearing with a gloved hand over their mouths and a blade sinking in their necks.

Bile rose in Rafaels throat. He had seen violence but not on this scale. His angela appeared atop the shipping container before leaping off, swords drawn. She twisted mid-air and took the heads off two men with machine guns before landing.

Who the fuck was this woman? Rafael hadnt known his father was acquainted with anyone like her. More than a simple mercenary, that was for sure. She cut through the remaining men, bullets flying around her but never making contact. Rafaels brain screamed for oxygen and drew in a shaky breath, his broken ribs aching. His angela gestured to hurry up, and he scrambled from his hiding place.

You obey orders well for a man. Thats good, she said, taking a crowbar off a corpse. She wedged it under the lid of one of the wooden crates. She poked around the stuffing, pulling out bricks of cocaine until only the shredded newspaper was left. She looked up at Rafael. Get in.

Absolutely not, he said. He hated small spaces.

She raised one brow. I said, get in. This is how Im going to get you out of here. Now, you can go willingly, or I can break both of your legs and toss you in there. Your father said he didnt want you shot. He didnt say anything about other injuries.

He knew she would do exactly what she was promising without batting her long lashes.

You are charm itself, Rafael muttered, climbing into the crate.

She grabbed the top of the lid to pull it back down.

Wait! he said. Rafael grabbed her by the face and quickly kissed her. She made a surprised sound that he swallowed down. After a moment, her lips moved against him, and everything in his world was suddenly okay. Rafael finally pulled back and stroked her cheek lightly.

Thank you for the rescue, angela della morte.

She smiled once, dazzling him before her head crashed into his face, and his world darkened.

When Rafael woke again, he was back in Rome with a busted face. He never saw the golden hair of his angel again.

Twenty-two years later,Rafael Asellio would sometimes wake from dreaming of that night with the smell of her perfume in his nose. He could smell it again now as he stared at the simple white card in his hand. It was worn around the edges, with only an embossed head of a female statue wearing a helmet and a phone number on the back. He could still feel Micheles shaking fingers as he pressed it into Rafaels hand.

Only call this number when you have…no other choice, Michele whispered, his voice a deathbed rasp. Rafael had thought the pain of the cancer had finally broken his father. He had put the card in the back of his desk drawer and forgotten about it for the past ten years.

It wasnt until the evening that Rafael learned his two business partners were funding a hit on him that he really felt he had no other choice left. The carabinieri couldnt help; the Costas owned them too.

Like his father, Rafael had done everything he could to not have mafia connections in their business. When he had taken over the company, he had slowly weeded out anyone who looked slightly suspicious, but by inheriting the company, he also became a part of an unbreakable agreement with his fathers two business partners. The company was owned by all three of them and could only be inherited by their male heirs. Michele had been the first to die, and Rafael had taken his place.

The problem was that Rafael was forty-six years old and had no heir or wife to give him one. The other two partners couldnt get into bed with the Costa family unless Rafael agreed or they killed him. So they had put a bounty on his head in the hope it would either put enough stress on him to give in, or he would die, and his third would be split between them. He wouldnt go down without a fight, but he didnt know who he could trust, even amongst his own men.

Rafael stared at the card again. He wondered if this was the mysterious organization that his angela della morte had worked for all those years ago. Was she still alive? And would they know how to track her down? Rafael laughed softly at the thought of trying to find her for a date. She would probably break his face again. He rubbed at the scar across the bridge of his nose, his only reminder that she had existed at all.

Rafael drained his wine. He had no one else to turn to but whoever the white card belonged to. Rafael pulled out his phone and dialed the number.