Chapter 1

1

LUCA

" T hat's what you referred to as an emergency? Babysitting a grown woman?"

"Luca, I didn't have anyone else to call."

I have so much blood on my hands that if I add my father's, I'll still sleep soundly tonight. No guilt. No nightmares.

Just another day in my life.

Each second ticking past is an exercise in restraint. My handler knows me as a stoic, generally calm employee. But right now, all the ways I know how to kill a person flit through my mind because even at thirty-eight years old, dear ole Dad still treats me like I'm eight.

"With all due respect, Dad, I do not give a fuck."

He drops clothes into the suitcase and whirls around. "Then, why are you here? Because I called, right?"

"Because I thought you were dying, and I'm about to pay my final respects."

Instead of matching my ire, he bursts out laughing. "Goddamn. I forgot how straightforward you can be, son."

Son.

Right.

I should've known. Thirty-eight years on this Earth, and my father can still make a fool out of me. Lying is second nature to him, and he does it as often as he breathes.

He only remembers he has a child when it's convenient. When he needs someone to bail him out of the shit he pulled. When he needs someone to take the fall. When he needs a valid excuse for pretty much anything.

I can't even remember how many times he used being a single father as his get-out-of-jail-free card.

Can I go first? My child isn't feeling well.

Can I get a discount for this? I have a kid.

I'm sorry I thought that was my wallet. I've been so preoccupied with my boy. I'm the only one he has, you see.

Oh, shit. Sorry, can I borrow a ten? My son wants ice cream, and I think I left my wallet at home.

I've heard every excuse he's ever made, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being related to this piece of scum. Sure, he's made some money for himself, but I don't believe for one second it's from honest work. He wouldn't know honesty if it hit him in the face.

"I'm out of here," I say and spin on my heel, not bothering to listen to whatever he has to say. I admit I didn't bother checking up on him, so imagine my surprise when he sent me his address, and I found this sprawling mansion with at least three sports cars parked out front.

I wonder who he swindled this time because that's what he is.

A con man. A grifter. He targets everyone—from working students to single moms to seniors living on their pensions. The more innocent and vulnerable, the better.

I should've sent the police after him, but the moment I turned eighteen, the only thing I cared about was getting as far away from my father as I could. The guilt continues to eat at me since I know, with my silence and apathy, he has managed to hurt hundreds, if not thousands.

Then again, who am I to speak? It's not like I don't kill for money, and so I don't exactly have a high moral ground to stand on.

Denial tastes bitter in my mouth, but I have to acknowledge that, in some ways, I am no different from him. Even though my ‘missions' always tend to involve someone dangerous to society. I tell myself I take the money but also do some good and make the world a better place, but as long as I continue to turn a blind eye to my father's dealings, I am as much at fault as him.

"You're not here for me, Luca," he calls out.

His voice becomes a white noise, and I'm an expert at tuning him out. I don't stop, I don't turn back to him, and I don't acknowledge what he said.

"It's Lila. I called you for Lila."

The words are barely out of his mouth when my feet slow to a stop, and time stands still. My breath stutters, and my pulse quickens.

A young woman, small but curvy, stands before me in a shapeless dress and boring shoes. Her hair, the color of burnished copper, is bundled at the nape, tendrils of it escaping and framing her round face.

Her pale green eyes, fringed by long, dark lashes, blink once, twice.

Desire thunders through me, catching me off-guard.

Who the hell is this beautiful woman, and what is she doing under my father's roof?

My synapses fail to function properly because my mind empties. I stand there, staring stupidly at someone whose beauty demands attention.

So, I give her all the attention I have.

My eyes make a quick sweep of her body. She's a foot shorter than me, with curves that beg to be explored. And despite the unflattering outfit, I know she has a body I want to worship.

"Oh, good. You're here. Lila, meet your stepbrother, Luca." Dad darts his eyes between us, jabbing a finger at each of us as if we can't tell who's who. "Luca, this is who I called you about. Lila."

None of us respond to him. Unfortunately, he takes that as an invitation to continue talking. "Lila here doesn't want to come with us because it will ‘derail her life plans'." He scoffs and lifts his fingers to do those stupid air quotes.

The way he so clearly implies she's wrong to refuse to drop everything pisses me off. "No shit, Dad. I would do the same."

He's oblivious to the anger rolling off me and lays a hand on her shoulder, making me clench my fists. "She's a guidance counselor, and she doesn't want to leave the kids."

"Why the fuck are you even leaving?"

"Listen, my business has gone to shit, and I need to go somewhere to cool down. I'll be back in a few months."

At this, Lila turns to him, her eyebrows scrunching. "You said you'd be on vacation."

He waves her off. "Semantics, semantics. The point is your stepbrother here does bodyguard work for celebrities. At least, that's what he tells me. He's here to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Lila's earlier confusion morphs into fury similar to mine, and she folds her arms over her chest. "What did you do?"

"Business gone sideways, okay? Happens all the time." Dad pats her shoulder, as blind to others' feelings as ever, and faces me. "Do it for family, okay?"

"She's not my family," I growl, stepping forward because I'm getting a picture of what's going on, and I don't like it.

"She is now."

"What did you do, Dad?" We're face to face, and he has to tip his head back to look at me. "Who did you fucking piss this time?"

He's not fazed, which is pretty much what makes him a great con man. He can be in a life-or-death situation, and he'll try to talk his way out of it. Most of the time, he's successful.

That's what makes this whole bizarre situation more suspicious. He's never run away before.

"I may have made some bad investments, and the investors are none too happy about losing money. Who does?" He backs up and continues packing. "Don't worry about it. When I'm not here, no one will come after her."

He clicks the suitcase shut and saunters toward the door, looking at us over his shoulder. "My wife's waiting in the car. Take care of her, Luca. We'll be back before you know it."

The door closes behind me, and deafening silence hangs in the air. I'm usually quick at thinking on my feet, but for some reason, I'm rooted to the spot.

I mentally rifle through my current problems.

What has Dad done, and to whom?

Is the house even safe? It's way too big for two people, not to mention all the doors where anyone can pass through undetected. Too many fucking blind spots and no good vantage point.

Where can I take Lila? Can I trust myself to protect her and not even try to touch her?

How does she feel about all of these? Will I be met with resistance if I propose leaving the house?

How can I fucking think straight with her around?

For a seasoned assassin who's used to dealing with unexpected situations and coming out alive, I'm screwed. Not because I don't know how to protect her, but because I have never tried protecting anyone from my own damn self.

Fuck.