Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

45. A Step Ahead

I stared down at the barely breathing Luca Ricci who was currently bleeding all over his pristinely white carpet. We'd been at this for hours already, and though I was enjoying the process, the desired outcome was not manifesting as quickly as I anticipated. Mario Ricci fled his court-ordered house arrest pending his criminal trial and is now MIA, and his piece of shit nephew was not being as helpful as he should be.

Matt was gonna be so pissed at me for fucking up his plan to marry Regina off to Luca, but this was honestly for the best. If she married into a family that saw me as an enemy, then that would only lead to more problems in the future. I was honestly doing him a favor.

"Luca, I'm only gonna give you five more minutes of rest before I move to the other hand," I warned. Slumped against the wall, Luca's eyes were half closed as his chest slowly expanded to take in strained breaths, his mutilated, bloody hand resting on the floor next to him. The removal of his fingernails had only gained me the date of when Mario likely fled. The removal of his pinky finger allotted me the country of where he might have fled to. A second finger narrowed it down to a few cities he might be in. A third gave me the name of another contact who might have more information. A fourth only gained me the threat of swift, bloody revenge from his family. And his thumb brought back the possibility that he would be somewhere well guarded.

Scott was currently rummaging through all of Luca's files in his computer while I wandered over to his bookshelf that housed plenty of family photos. Observing each one closely, I found myself lucky that some of the photos were of him as a child amongst family. And then I noticed the same beach house appeared in two of the photos, Mario leaning against the railing with a cigar in his mouth.

I took the frame and walked back over to Luca, taking his jaw in my hand and squeezing just enough to wake him.

"Luca," I snickered, "where is this beach house?"

His eyes glazed over the photo, recognition lifting his lids slightly as he groaned at the photo. I lightly tapped what was left of his bleeding palm, causing him to shriek with a jolt as his eyes suddenly focused on the photo. But all he did was stammer absolute nonsense.

Reaching for my Sig, I held it against his head, no longer amused by his refusal to cooperate. I did have a bride to get home to, and I was already two days behind.

"Luca, if you don't answer my damn question, I'm gonna blow your fucking brains out all over the carpet. And then I'm gonna move on to your cousin Bella. You have five seconds."

He started stuttering as I slowly started to count backward, but it was when I got to two that he finally found his voice.

"Porto Rotondo!" he cried out.

"Good boy," I said and stood to hand Scott the photo. It only took him about five minutes to locate an address through Luca's files. And just like that, we had our next heading.

I left Luca with two bullets in his head, allowing him to rot with his two bodyguards before we eventually pulled the gas line and lit a candle as we left. By the time we turned down the next street, the private residence of Luca Ricci was nothing but fire and rubble.

Checking my phone, I found a text from Clive informing me Jaden had another bad nightmare in the middle of the night that woke them up. They called Sid to evaluate her and all was well.

It was fucked up, but while Jaden had reoccurring nightmares of her time in the basement with me, I happened to consider them some of my fondest memories.

God, I was an evil, sick fuck.

"Let's take care of Mario now while it's still daylight. I'm suddenly eager to get home to torture my wife."

****

It took us about an hour to fly the jet from Fuimicino to Porto Rotondo and another thirty-minute drive from the rental car that was waiting for us at the airport. Mario's private beach house was pretty well secluded on the edge of the giant island off the coast of Italy, much of the property barricaded by private fencing, palm trees, and bushes. But as we carefully breached the property, scouting every inch that we could see, there was a noticeable lack of patrolling bodies. There wasn't even anyone passing through the windows.

"I don't see a goddamn soul," Scott said as he watched through his binoculars.

I shrugged. "Maybe there wasn't anyone left after what happened in Rome."

"Maybe."

Guns drawn, we quietly made our way across the lawn of the property, stopping at the back door to find the handle unlocked. My gut was already not liking the way this was turning out. One silent step at a time, we scoured through the quiet house, waiting for a sign of anything alive, and we got our answers when we made it into the living room.

Three men, likely guards, were dead on the ground in one massive pool of blood, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. And just a few feet away from them was Mario Ricci, or what was left of Mario Ricci. His body was nothing but charred ash, the disgusting smell of burnt flesh and gasoline permeating the air. But the most disturbing part wasn't the dead bodies laid out for me to find, it was the handwritten note that had been carved into the wall above Mario's head.

One step ahead of you.

I stared at the writing in absolute disbelief. Not only had some fucking asswipe completely stolen my revenge, but they deliberately dangled it right in front of me. Who in the actual fuck had the balls to deliberately taunt me? Did they even know who they thought they were a step ahead of?

Jesus, my head was swimming with so many what-the-fucks, I couldn't keep up with them.

"Looks like he's been dead for maybe two hours," Scott said as he examined Mario.

Two hours? I missed this fucker by a span of two hours? HOW?

"There has to be security footage somewhere," I said.

But there wasn't. Everything had been scrubbed. The cameras were demolished, the system completely wiped – not a trace of my revenge thief in sight.

I had no idea what to make of it. It was unprecedented. Even Scott was at a loss for a possible lead.

Mario had his own set of enemies just as I did, but word had gotten around that I'd been hunting him, so no one would be stupid enough to interfere like this with the clear purpose of sending me a message. Did they only kill Mario because I wanted him dead? Or were they just killing two birds with one stone? All these fucking questions and no one to torture for answers. I had an obstructionist on my hands, and I needed to know who it was. This did not need to become a future problem.

After scrubbing the place clean of ourselves, we fled the house, careful not to be seen as we drove back to the jet. I played potential matches in my head over and over again, trying to find the fuck who would dare step between me and my targets. But no one came to mind. No one was that capable or would even think of such an agenda. It had to be someone new, someone who didn't know better – which meant it was time to step back into the light and attract some new attention. They'd want to step out of the shadows at some point, and I was going to give them that opportunity.

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