Maverick: Pericolo #1.5

  MAVERICK

  A FEMME FATALE NOVELLA

  Pericolo #1.5

  Kirsty-Anne Still

  MAVERICK

  The Pericolo Series

  A NOVELLA

  KINDLE EDITION

  Copyright © 2015 Kirsty-Anne Still

  Cover design – Cover It Designs

  MAVERICK is a shorter story that fits between Femme Fatale (Pericolo #1) and Femme Fatale Reloaded (Pericolo #2). While it contains some contents from Femme Fatale Reloaded, it was necessary to give you Zane’s point of view regarding the circumstances that kick start the events in the second book.

  All rights reserved. Please keep this book in its complete original form with the exception of quotes used in reviews. No alteration of the contents is allowed. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying) recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This is a New Adult Contemporary Romance novel recommended for readers over the age of 18 due to swearing, violence and use of attempted suicide. Due to the theme of organized crime and graphic murder scenes, it is in the readers discretion to read this book. You have been warned it is for an older audience.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE PERICOLO SERIES

  ALSO BY KIRSTY-ANNE STILL

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  ZANE

  What do you do when the bliss you’ve been suspended in comes tumbling down?

  I drifted through denial, progressed into the anger pretty quick, and then lingered in it. It was the base note to my emotions as I struggled to bargain with the facts that were printed in black, white, and blood red. I knew the depression that was already ebbing into my system was going to be a fast friend, but in the end, I accepted it for what it was.

  The love of my life was a killer – I had known that for a while now, but the deceit presented to me was too much to cope with. In the end, I started to mourn a relationship that I was yet to end. Why? Because I knew after that today, I couldn’t continue to love a woman who would never wholly be mine. I couldn’t share her with the loyalties that kept her tied to her family anymore. They were corruptive, full of damnation, and always came with the threat of stealing her from me completely.

  So I was aiming to cut a loss and run – as far as I could, and as fast I could.

  I made the decision as fast as I had known it, but I hadn’t realized I had come to terms with the fact that my relationship with Amelia Abbiati was one forever hanging on a time limit.

  I came home to wait for her because I knew she would always come back to me. The domesticated bliss we had reveled in was one we had both come alive in, and here I was, sitting in total darkness, waiting to bring us down from cloud nine.

  And for what reason?

  To break her heart for a second time in exactly the same manner as I had done over a year ago.

  We had our second chance, and it was as if the past was always set to repeat itself. We meet, we fall so whole-heartedly in love it’s consuming, but her life and what she is will always be the devil waiting to end it all.

  Like before, it’s happened again.

  The pain that rips through me at knowing I was never enough for her is suffocating, but the disappointment my love for her could never eclipse her father’s hold on her shatters me the most. I wanted to give her everything, grant her freedom, but it seemed we were always destined to be apart.

  I’m sorry for breaking her heart; I am, even without doing so just yet.

  When I hear the door to the apartment open, I know my opportunity is about to arrive, and the lump that forms in my throat is one I won’t be able to get rid of. I remain silent, still sitting in the dark. Waiting as she moves farther into the apartment.

  “Zane?” I hear her call out, but I remain unmoved.

  I can sense her moving, hearing her footsteps coming closer, and the ache in me becomes far worse than ever. Even in the darkness, I can’t escape my raging emotions, and the fact she’s here exacerbates them.

  I notice as she flips on lights and she trails through the apartment that her body becomes a silhouette in the doorway. I look, my eyes straining to make her out in the darkness, and my heart begins to beat in fits of pain.

  “What’s wrong?” she calls out.

  “I can’t do this.” My response is instant at hearing the innocence to her voice; my head drops in shame at having lived with her this long without knowing. I can’t deal with it when I know otherwise. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.”

  She moves into the room, but I stand causing her to pause. Instead, she moves her arm out, trying to catch the light switch. When she does, bright light emblazons the room and I finally look at her.

  Once before, I used to look at this woman with sheer adoration. She was the only one I wanted to wake up to and fall asleep with, but now, it’s different. She’s becoming my hardest hello because I can’t bear to look at her when I know what she’s been up to. It’s now I look at her for what she is – his daughter. His creation. She isn’t the Amelia I first met and fell for. I admit I had a hand in causing that, but her loyalties are far too embedded with her father for another man to capture her heart – it’s why she did those final kills.

  “I know, Amelia,” I admit; my tone is hoarse as the words lodge in my throat. I watch her step closer, as I know my voice is low and hard to hear. It’s breaking me to do this; I can’t find the conviction to force it. “I know everything you’ve done.”

  “Know what?” she asks, pleading innocence even more.

  She walks over to me, and it’s now – with her closer - that I notice all the happier shades she’s reveled in for weeks are no longer prominent. She looks alarmed at what I’m saying, at what I know. She swallows hard, and from the wideness of her green eyes, I know her heart must be pounding fiercely in her chest. When she meets my gaze next, I see she knows I’ve already condemned her, and this is the end.

  “Everything,” I utter, taking a moment to turn away so I can pace. I had this breakup in my head, but now that she’s here, I can’t bear to break her heart and mine. "I went in to discuss when I could go back to work. But while I was there I wanted to get your father's file and make it disappear, but somehow that never happened." I run a hand over my face tiresomely. "Want to know why?"

  She hesitates, but responds shakily. "Why?"

  “Because their biggest case is the attack of Femme Fatale,” I state, my tone cutthroat, and I can feel my eyes shooting daggers. “Apparently, just over four weeks ago, she took out two men at once and then took out one of Manhattan’s most wanted gang lords. Who just so happens to have direct links to a certain Abbiati leader.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she’s quick to argue. “I had to.”

  “Because Daddy said so?” I snap viciously, and she flinches at my harsh tone. “Did he tell you he had to or he’d sell you again or what?”

/>   She shakes her head. Rolling her eyes, she goes to speak again. “I chose to kill all three of them.”

  “Why?” I ask, my voice becoming gruffer by the second. “Why did you choose to kill three men?”

  “Because they tried to take you away from me!” She breaks and admits, her voice piercing with how distraught she’s apparently feeling, and I feel my resolve begin to break. I watch as she begins to scratch at her arms, possibly torturing herself over what she’s done. “They planned to kill you to save my family from breaking up because you’re an issue. But you’re not, not to me! If they could plan it, anyone could, so I killed them. I had to make sure you were untouchable.”

  “Did it work?” I query, not buying her excuses. My anger is becoming a livewire, waiting to catch its fuse. “Well, did it, Amelia? Did it work?!”

  “Almost,” she whispers, struggling at this moment. She looks back at me, trying to brave the moment. “My father still wants you dead, but I eliminated the other threats until I could get the all-clear for us.”

  “It’s too late for that!” I bellow, and I know she understands how enraged I am at this moment in time. “You said you were a monster, and I fought in your corner because I thought I was your only hit. The only hit that was making you fucking abstain from that life. I’m a fucking detective; I would have had protection from thugs like those!”

  “But you didn’t, did you?” she asks, snapping her retort at me. “They didn’t protect you when you were ambushed on purpose. No one kept you and Billy safe when you were shot four fucking times, Zane! You nearly died, and I nearly died with you, and it was too much.” I watch as she dissolves into tears, but I don’t know what’s causing them – the magnitude of this moment or her retelling of past events. “I couldn’t do anything to save you, but I could do everything to make sure it never happened again. And I did just that.” She now finds her voice and her fight. “Yes, I killed them in cold blood, but I did that to buy us more time. I did it to protect you. I did it because, when my life spiraled out of control, it was all I knew what to do.”

  “Murder isn’t a relaxation tactic, Amelia! It’s a matter of life and death,” I snarl at her as I glare at her across the room. “You told me you didn’t want to do that anymore. You wanted your brother away from it so he didn’t become so corrupt, but you showed him exactly how corrupt you are. You proved the lengths you’ll go to for love.”

  “Exactly! I did it because I love you. It wasn’t exactly easy for me to do.” She strives to argue her casem but it’s futile.

  I’ve been stewing on this all day, and she can’t rationalize with me. I’ve sat and thought this over for hours trying to make sense of it, but all I keep thinking is how she chose her father’s ways over what we were creating.

  “What because throwing poison in a drink is so fucking hard? I’m surprised you’ve not done Daddy’s work on me by now!”

  She shakes her head in dismay, the tears coming faster, but she drags in a deep breath.

  “Big Al taunted me with your shooting,” she remarks as if it’ll make the blindest bit of difference. “Yes, I had gone there to kill him for it, but he told me how you begged and pleaded for your life, Zane. It was too much. He had me pinned against the floor ready to rape me when he told me how you begged not to be killed. That only fueled my hate far more than seeing you in that hospital bed.”

  I feel recognition heat my expression, remembering when she admitted what happened to her, but it changes nothing. My decision has been made, and there is no coming back.

  “I told you in the beginning I had changed, and you kept telling me I hadn’t. I so wanted that to be true, but now, you know the real me,” she admits, honesty lacing her words vehemently. “Now, you know the true me that became of you leaving me.” She sounds so raw as she admits what really happened to her in the aftermath of our first breakup. “But I thought there was always hope because you still loved me. Even after finding the vial and learning of what I did for my father, you still loved me with everything you had.”

  “I guess I never wanted to believe you could have changed that much. I lived in denial,” I remark, and although my voice is still hoarse, it’s calmer than before. “But I can’t be with someone who will always, always do her father’s bidding. You aren’t someone I can trust to grow old with. You aren’t even someone I can trust to sleep next to anymore. This has changed it all, and I hate that I realized a lot of things too late.” Although I keep my voice calm, I can’t ignore the storm raging in me. “When you said we had changed since our last meeting, I was so convinced we hadn’t, but I see it now. You aren’t the girl I fell in love with. You’re a born and bred murderer who just wants approval from her father. You have to see that.” I feel tears begin to prick in my eyes, and out of instinct, I flare my nostrils to prevent a total breakdown. “He tore us apart once, and now, along with your help, he’s done it again.”

  “Please, don’t do this,” she begs, and my heart pangs painfully. "I only ever did it for you, Zane. You have to see it my way. I had to fight to keep you safe."

  "Keep me safe?" I snort my response. "You keep saying that, but from who? Because the only dangerous person I see here is you, Amelia! You are manipulative and destructive, and you lie to get your own way."

  "No." She gasps, beginning to shake her head viciously at me. "I lied about the murders because I never wanted to disappoint you, but I couldn't let those men win. I couldn't let them live after seeing you in that hospital bed. I was so betrayed that I had been underestimated, and someone had chosen to kill you."

  "If you remember right, you chose to kill me too!" I throw my angriest retort at her, reminding her of how we got back to this point – it was her mission. I can feel the heat rising, reddening my cheeks. "That's the only reason we got back together!"

  "No, it's not," she murmurs, sounding wounded by my accusation. "I could've killed you had I never trusted you to love me! Even after the first time, after you tore my fucking heart out, I trusted you again to love me, all of me. And you did. You healed me. You knew what I was, and you still loved me. You said so yourself. Now, you've decided to turn your back on that because I did one of the only things I knew to do – protect those I love."

  "This isn't you protecting those you love," I reply, even laughing incredulously at her comment. "This is you exerting your need to be awarded by your father! To prove a point. To mark your territory. Anything to show your father you’re not expendable like he’s made you feel! Well, well done, Amelia! I hope his praise will keep you warm at night because I won't be!"

  “Don’t do this,” she begs lightly. “Don’t turn your back on what we have like this. I will tell you everything. I’ll tell you how my father wanted me to go out and kill a man with Giovanni tonight, but I couldn’t do it! Zane, I kept thinking of you and how I wanted you to run with me. I hesitated because I can’t kill anyone anymore. The last three kills were my last. They were like my swan song, I swear!”

  “You rammed a stiletto heel into a man’s throat,” I growl at her. “That’s a pretty vicious swan song to have!”

  “Because he was trying to rape me,” she defends, her voice losing all momentum as her eyes glaze over, clearly remembering. I can’t stop the concern that rises in me. After all, the woman I love with all my heart nearly got raped, but my prejudices and my wounded ego stand in the way. “He deserved it.”

  “And what about the sixty-eight men before him, Amelia?” I ask as I’m well aware of all the men she’s killed before these final three. “I have been following the Femme Fatale case for over a year. I know your kill pattern; I know your technique. I know you have no victimology. There’s no cohesion to the men you kill.”

  “Yes, there is,” she grounds out that statement, arguing back. She suddenly looks back at me, standing a little taller. “They all failed my father. They all threatened our lives. They threatened everything my family has built over the years.”

  “See, that’s the problem, then
,” I begin, and I take back my pacing, this time making it smoother, slower, full of more thought. “Some of them haven’t had any connection to your father at all.” I decide to open the can of worms and make her see some sense. It’s pure cruelty, but she needs it. She needs to see the light. “Your father has been using you to just kill people. He used you to do the dirty work so he didn’t have to, Amelia. I just came with a convenient excuse.”

  “No,” she replies in vehement disbelief as she shakes her head. “He wouldn’t do this to me.”

  “And there is our biggest issue,” I retort, hating her for her response. “You’re so quick to defend him!”

  I cross the room, unable to cope with any more of this. I smack straight into her, a deliberate move to prove how angry I am as I stalk out of the room, knowing full well she will follow me out. I feel her follow, so I advance for the door, opening it wide for her and holding it in place.

  “I think it’s best you leave, Amelia,” I muse, motioning toward the exit. “What we started was never destined to go anywhere.”

  She says nothing, which shocks me at first, but then she only goes to the door to fight to shut it. I allow her to win, a part of me willing to allow her to have the benefit of the doubt. She stands, with her back to the panel, and she looks at me with utter despair. It breaks my heart furthermore.

  "You can't do this to me. You can't end this again. You can’t leave me."

  Those words that leave her mouth almost catch me, almost make rethink. Almost.

  Instead, I reload my anger and keep it on point to resume where we are. I cannot keep this going, not until I’m sure I am who she wants. It broke my heart enough to read that she was still killing men then coming back to me. She was living a double life, and I didn’t want to be privy to it. I wanted to know she didn’t need it. I wanted her to cut a total loss.

  “You should’ve thought about that when you told me you didn’t want to do your father’s calling but went against that behind my back.” I force myself to say when inside, my blackened heart is struggling to cope. I need her to hate me, to see that this is it for us. “I thought we were one hundred percent honest with one another. I thought when you cried over what you’d become the other morning it was because you were looking for an escape, not because you had a guilty conscience eating you up.”