Chapter 1
Anatonia
Seven Years Later
United States
The heavy bag swings from the chain hanging from the ceiling. I jump and kick it again, sending it flying back. When it returns, I hit it hard with my gloved hands. I continue working out, releasing the stress that has built up in my system. The need to vent the pain every so often has been getting worse over the years. I no longer have to kill on a daily basis, so I don’t have the adrenaline to push back the memories.
I’m head of security for the Morello family. Personal bodyguard to the capo, and I keep a close eye on the future capo, Natale. This is my new destiny—protecting them and keeping them safe from my uncle and the Bratva. I’ve taught Natale a lot, but there are still some things I won’t let him do. That’s my job.
We are in hiding here in the U.S. I’m restless and can’t wait until we can move back to Italy. This is one of my rare days off. I don’t take many, but when I do, I come here and work out until my body succumbs to the pain I put it through. I stop the bag as my cell phone rings on the counter. I lift it up and see Natale’s name on the display.
“Si,” I answer.
“I need you, Ana. Meet me at the Mercy of Angels Hospital.” He doesn’t explain, but from his tone I know it’s bad.
“Capo?” I ask, needing to make sure he is safe.
“He is safe. They will be here soon.”
“I’ll be there shortly.” I hang up and head for the master suite to take a shower. The large bathroom is partially a wet room with a large soaking tub and walk-in shower with multiple rainfall heads. This is an oasis in an industrial building that I’ve fixed up over the years.
After a quick shower, I braid my hair down my back, keeping it out of the way, then I step into the attached walk-in closet. I slip on a black thong and bra, followed by black chino slacks. Based on Natale’s voice, I’m going to plan for the worst. I slip on a thin bulletproof vest, then a black silk tank top. Reaching for my black boots, I slip them on and then slide a knife into the attached holster. Next, I put on my double rig chest holster and a thigh holster. My black jacket covers it all, except for the exposed thigh holster. My special belt goes on last. The belt buckle doubles as a garrote and the holster at the back houses a couple throwing knives. Walking through to the bedroom, I open the gun safe and pull out my three .45 handguns. One goes in the thigh holster and the other two in the double rig. On my dresser sits my jewelry. I slip my mama’s cross over my head and my father’s wedding ring on my thumb. The only things I have left of them.
Stepping back, I look in the mirror. Without the thigh rig or the bulletproof vest, this is my normal look. I don’t need to make myself look sexier with makeup. At almost thirty-two, I don’t have the urge to make myself look different. This is who I am. I push up the sleeves of my jacket, exposing all the tattoos down my arms, my left side more tattooed than the right.
I call a soldier who is part of the security detail to come give me a ride to the hospital. I’ll ride back to the house with the family. When he texts that he’s close, I make my way out of the warehouse and past my car. My motorcycle is in the Morello’s garage. Locking and arming the building, I check my surroundings before climbing into the SUV. We make our way into Carson Hills toward the hospital. My warehouse is between Carson Hills and Wellport. Between the two classes.
Just like me.
I’m between two worlds.
When we pull up, the feeling of being watched washes over my skin. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I turn around and see a police car, but nothing else grabs my attention. My phone pings.
Nat: You here yet?
Me: Walking in now.
Nat: On my way.
I step through the doors into the main lobby and instantly security is eyeing me and the exposed gun strapped to my thigh. I smirk at him and lift an eyebrow. Maybe I can finish my workout by starting a fight.
“Ana.” Natale’s voice sounds tortured. I look up and see the man he is becoming. I stand at five foot seven and he’s taller than me. At nineteen, he’s wiry muscle, long dark hair, and tatted up. I nod and he gives the security guard a look. The guard steps back. But I wave my arms out at him, challenging him, and he drops his gaze.
“Figo,” I mumble.
“Really?” Natale shakes his head.
“He’s being a pussy not wanting to go up against a girl,” I say.
“Ana, I need your focus. I want you to guard my girl.”
I shake my head at his words. He’s been making a fuss the last couple days about a girl. But his girl?
“I read some of the background from Capo.” I must approve of everyone around the family, so I saw some of the report.
“Not like that. She needs you to protect her. It’s bad.” That’s all he says as we make our way down the hall. We walk past Domino, a city cop and an old friend from Sicily, as he talks to Capo. I nod at them and continue following Natale.