Taming Seraphine

LEROI

Thank fuck Seraphine dropped that line of questioning because I’m a hypocrite. Every day, I chastise her for being careless and impulsive, yet I’m the one who’s racking up the kills. I can’t explain it. It’s not something I want to admit, but my little murderess is seeping under my skin and burrowing her sweet way into my heart.

I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her but me, let alone that worthless opportunist. Seraphine is mine. I swore to protect her from the evils of the world. Myself included.

If I don’t keep this fixation with her under control, the mystery Capello sympathizer will be the least of our worries.

Seraphine clings to my arm with both hands, squeezing so tightly that I stare down at her and frown. She can’t still be angry about that asshole?

“Hurry to the car,” she whispers. “Please.”

I’ve done this job long enough to know the signs of someone sensing danger, and her fear is unmistakable. Picking up my pace, I hover a hand on my holster. “What’s wrong?”

“Later.”

We’re inside the car in an instant. I start the engine, pull out, and don’t speak until we’re halfway down the road.

“Talk to me,” I say.

“Are you sure you killed every member of the Capello family?” she asks.

My eyes narrow. Maybe I should have pulled her out of that group of girls and informed her of the identity of her new dance companion, but she was having so much fun. I didn’t have the heart to ruin her night.

“I went through each room, taking out every guest staying in the mansion. There’s going to be a few cousins or illegitimate children left over, but I got everyone who counted. Why?”

She releases a shaky breath. “I just saw Samson.”

My hands grip the steering wheel. “Capello?”

When she doesn’t answer, I glance over to the passenger side. She sits forward with her head bowed, her darkened hair hiding her face.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I saw that face nearly every day the past five years,” she replies, her voice hoarse. “I also know the difference between Gregor and Samson.”

Fuck.

That wasn’t my question, but she’s unknowingly given me an answer and solved the mystery behind the Capello sympathizer who hired me to take out the lone gunman. It also explains who Joseph Di Marco was trying to protect.

Samson Capello.

How the hell is he still alive?

Pressure builds up behind my eyes like a kettle. I squint through the windshield at the road ahead and mentally retrace my steps.

“The second Capello son I killed was sleeping face-down on the bed. I shot him in the back of the head.”

“Did you turn him around?”

“I didn’t take the chance after having trouble with the first one.” My jaw tightens. “Nobody could survive a gunshot at such close range.”

“But if he was staying the night with his fiancée…”

She doesn’t need to complete her sentence because I’m already coming to the same conclusion. Samson must have gone home with Di Marco’s daughter or somewhere else, and let one of the guests use his room. Until now, he’s been lying low and working with his father’s lawyer to take out a contract on the man who killed his family.

“Did he see you?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“He looked right at my face,” she replies.

My gut clenches. “Did he recognize you?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Maybe. I glanced over my shoulder at him, but he was already halfway down the road.”

Reaching across the front seat, I grip her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll keep you safe.”

A barely perceptible nod is her only response, but I can’t blame her lack of trust. After all, I assured her that the people keeping her prisoner were all dead. Now one of them not only survived, but knows she’s thriving.

I don’t remember ever having left a job with so many loose ends. Samson Capello and all the resources that come with his organization are going to be difficult to navigate.

Hours later, I’m still at her bedside, stroking her silken hair. It’s my way of assuring her she’s safe. As soon as I’m certain she’s peacefully asleep, I walk next door to Miko’s apartment. He’s usually up until the ass-crack of dawn, so I know he’ll be awake.

Miko lets me in with a grin. “Ready for that game?”

I run a hand through my hair. “No time.”

His face falls. “What’s happened?”

“Samson Capello is alive.”

“You’re joking.”

“Seraphine saw him when we were leaving the club.”

Miko shakes his head. “But you killed both twins.”

I give him a shortened version of my mistaken identity theory, and he curses. “Nobody visited the funeral house except Joseph Di Marco and his daughter,” he says. “If one of the twins had been there, I would have seen it in the security footage.”

“I expect he’s been keeping a low profile to make sure whoever killed his family didn’t know he’s still alive.”

“What are you going to do?” Miko walks across the room and settles behind one of his monitors.

Lowering myself into the gaming chair next to his, I exhale a long breath. “Finish the job I started.”

“What about Seraphine?” he asks.

“We’re going to work our way through Capello’s bodyguards. At least one of them will lead us to Samson’s whereabouts.”

“I could hack into the nightclub’s security feed,” Miko says.

“He only walked past the entrance, but you can see if the camera caught anything.”

I pick up my phone. It’s time to inform the Montesano brothers of this new development. Wiping out the Capello family wasn’t just about getting Roman off death row. They also wanted to claw back the empire Frederic Capello stole from their father.

“Any word on Gabriel?” I ask.

He looks up from his screen. “Are you sure you still want me looking for the brother? If Samson’s out there, putting out hits on your head⁠—”

“Gabriel is the only leverage he has over Seraphine,” I say. “There’s no telling what she might do if Samson makes her choose between her brother’s survival or slitting my throat.”

Miko shudders. “Alright. I’ll keep digging.”

Benito is the first to reply with a string of expletives, followed by a list of Samson’s usual haunts. I doubt that the last legitimate Capello will be out in the open again after being recognized.

Roman doesn’t text back, and neither does Cesare. I expect Roman is busy trying to romance Emberly Kay out of her inheritance. Cesare? I shake my head. Let’s just say that Rosalind won’t have any complaints.

“I searched all hospitals within a hundred-mile radius of New Alderney,” Miko says, breaking me from my thoughts. “There was no trace of anyone with the name of Capello, Capelli, or any other variation, beginning with CAPE having had a liver transplant.”

“So he used another fake name?”

“That’s what I thought, so I searched all liver transplants with live donors and narrowed them down by gender, age, and ethnicity.”

“And?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Any way to find out which patients are repeat transplants?”

He shakes his head. “None, but if he used a different fake name⁠—”

“And a different date of birth.” I rub my chin.

“I’ll keep looking. Once I find Capello’s transplant information, then I’ll be able to locate information on the donor.”

I’m about to make another suggestion when my phone rings. It’s Rita, sounding snippy. “The client just called with a description of a man he thinks is the shooter.”

Fuck.

“Do you know what he said?” she asks.

I don’t reply because Rita is already on a roll.

“That the man was last seen escorting his sister into a black BMW and even gave me the license plate number. He wants to know why he’s making more progress than trained professionals.”

I exhale the longest breath. “We’re not a detective agency, and if he already knew the identity of the killer, why didn’t he provide that information?”

“Don’t you think I asked him that?” she answers with a huff. “He’s considering passing those details to another agency.”

I swallow back a curse. “Tell him we’ll send details of the car’s owner during working hours. If we can ID the lone gunman, he’ll be dead before the close of business tomorrow.”

“Alright,” she says, sounding less harried. “We’ve also had a few more inquiries, but all the junior agents are busy with assignments.”

“Turn them down. I’m busy chasing down this mysterious gunman.”

“Anton never refused work, no matter how busy the firm got,” she says.

“Anton is retired.”

I don’t know her well enough to explain what’s really happening. She’s loyal to Anton, and Anton is Seraphine’s former handler.

“Fine. I’ll wait for the client to call back.” Rita hangs up.

My nostrils flare. Samson Capello has the nerve to refer to Seraphine as his sister. Men don’t exploit and assault their female relatives or keep them chained to the walls like dogs, they protect them.

At the thought of my sister, my heartstrings twang with a pang of regret. Regret at the looks of combined horror on their faces when I shot her attacker in the head.

When Anton took me away, he also helped my family move to another state. I tracked them down, but they refused to speak to me or even acknowledge my presence. I lost them forever because I could no longer stand by and let them get hurt by that bastard.

Seraphine isn’t like them. She doesn’t recoil at the prospect of death and violence. She thrives on it, perhaps a little too much, but she’s the only person I know whose soul is both as pure as it is tainted.

Rising to my feet, I head to the door. I’ll protect Seraphine from her enemies and anyone else who wishes her harm. And that starts now by grabbing one of the bastards who helped kill her mother.