Savage Secrets (Titan #6) (16 page)

She was right.

Roman came closer, hand on the butt of his sidearm. “We’ve got more company.”

“This isn’t a meeting invite.” Rocco stopped, unwinding Cat and grasping her hand. He narrowed his gaze. “They’re closing in.”

“You got this?” she asked.

She might have had some moves, some training, but field operations weren’t in Cat’s repertoire. He knew that, and if he’d had even the slightest suspicion the ACG would play like this, Cat would be locked safely in his
other
hotel room.

Roman moved in front. “We got this.”

Big Ben was within sight when Roman led the charge, leading them to a location where they could get a bearing on their defenses. Rocco and Cat powered behind him, ignoring the ACG men who had them surrounded. Their goal was Big Ben. If they could get there before confrontation, their message would be sent.

And… they had arrived. Roman stopped and turned to face one side of their attack. Rocco took the other, sandwiching Caterina between them. An ACG man came from the front and another from the back.

“Nice spot. Ever been here?” Roman quipped.

Clear as the uncertainty on their faces, they didn’t like where they were.
Big Ben, fuckers. We know
.

Even though they had Cat enclosed, she was cool as the metal barrel on his favorite Glock. He felt the energy radiating from her. The strength and focus. Roman sidestepped into the closest ACG man’s line of sight, cutting him off from his target—Daniel Locke.

“Back away, buddy.”

“Daniel Locke.” The man stood down but leaned to speak around Roman’s shoulder. Apparently, he had a death wish. “Come with me.”

Roman had him turned around, arm jacked behind his back. “How about some manners? Fucker.”

Two ACG approached from behind. He had them, and Roman had the others. But when one fucker put hands on Caterina, Rocco’s whole world went red. For split second, he worried that this was the worst piss-poor timing for a hallucination, but then realization slapped his senses into gear. Someone put hands on his woman. She happened to be schooled in the art of pain and torture, but that didn’t matter. She was his, and that man might die because of a mistake.

Caterina’s hand went to her breast, extracting the hidden ice pick of a knife and throwing it into the man’s foot. His head snapped down when Rocco’s fist knocked it back up. Blood sprayed down to the sidewalk.

“Don’t touch my wife,” he growled, rabid and wanting more.

Around them, the ohs and ahs of startled passersby started a commotion. Someone had surely called the cops. Not exactly how their plan was meant to go but not the worst thing that could happen.

A new man approached. The other ACG assholes appeared to back off and take their cues from him.

“Your wife will be left alone.” He extended his hand to Rocco. “It’s time for you to come with us.”

He let it hang in the air, unanswered. “This isn’t my usual way of doing business.”

“El Mateperros is expecting you.”

“You aren’t making any friends, asshole.”

Cat stood beside him. “I am fine.”

Rocco took Caterina’s hand in his, decided not to create a bloody scene on the streets of London, and sawed his teeth together. “Anyone touches my wife again, they won’t live another day on
El Mateperros’s
payroll. Understand me? I don’t care who he thinks he is.”

“Not her. You.”

That was exactly what he wanted, to leave Caterina safe with Roman, but she’d probably de-ball him later if he tried that move. Taking longer to respond than he should have, Rocco shook his head. “She goes where I go. Package deal. As does that man.” He pointed to Roman. “I need assurances that she’s safe after your thugs made their move.”

The man stepped forward and placed his palm on Caterina’s shoulder. She didn’t react. Didn’t have to. Rocco’s muscles surged forward. His shoulder caught the man before his brain caught up and said not to attack. They slammed against a storefront. The man’s head smacked back, and spider-webbing cracked the glass. Trickles of blood ran down his neck.

“Never touch her.” His body pounded. Unanticipated fury caught him off guard, but he channeled it. His hands cupped the man’s neck. “I’ll tear your throat out if you lay hands on her again.”

Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead, and lack of oxygen turned it a gonna-die-soon shade of fleshy red. The other ACG men approached cautiously from behind but didn’t engage. Roman hovered, ready for whatever Rocco needed.

“Got me, dickhead? Touch her and die.” Rocco rippled his fingers then released.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The familiar sing-song of adrenaline rushing through Rocco’s veins centered him. Amid the coughing and hacking, Caterina stood next to him, unfazed. There may even have been the slightest smile on her face, though she tried to downplay her amusement. Funny how he was getting to know her slightest tics.

Rocco glared at the other men and returned his gaze to the cougher. “We prefer discretion.
I
prefer a blanket of anonymity. That is how I do business. I don’t care if it is
El Mateperros
or not. Understand me?”

Sirens roared.

Rubbing his throat, the man stood down and walked toward the other men. A quick nod and a mumble, then two Mercedes sedans rolled up.

Rocco turned to Caterina. “You okay, darlin’?”

“Never better.” Her eyes twinkled.

He squeezed her hand, uncomfortable with the anger bubbling in his chest. “Someone touches you like that again, prepare for the unexpected.”

In her heels, she went up on her tiptoes again and whispered into his ear, “
Un segundo
.”

There she went with her Spanish again, as if he could ever say no. At least he understood this one. One second. Got it.

Caterina stepped to the disoriented man who still rubbed his throat. She let loose a fury of words he didn’t know but would pay to hear again. Tearing him up, then down, verbally assaulting him for laying a finger on her. Shock pinched the man’s face. He seemed even more surprised at the finger poking than at the scuffle.

Cat turned back to Rocco, went back to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Had to get something off my chest.”

Talk about a proud moment. He chuckled, shaking his head. Roman tried to hide a laugh with a cough, and the ACG men were either embarrassed or in shock, but all parted as Caterina walked toward the waiting Mercedes. Her lips screwed, and her head tilted, letting dark brown hair fall over a smoky eye. “Are we leaving?”

“We are.” Roman moved toward her, and Rocco followed.

The driver of the car held open a door for Cat like some pleasant terrorist chauffeur. When Roman took the front passenger seat, Rocco slipped in the backseat with Caterina.

She whispered close enough that no one else could hear. “Temper, temper.”

Lacing his fingers into to Caterina’s, Rocco tried to focus on their goal. They needed details on the ACG’s upcoming attacks—not just Big Ben—in order to prevent them. They had to find out how extensive the network was and if the rumors about their financing had any truth. They had to do everything they could to take down El Mateperros, bring him to justice, and dismantle the ACG.

Easy enough.

The driver handed each of them black silk scarves. “Eyes, please.”

That was expected. Caterina took hers without questioning and fashioned it over her eyes. Roman glared from the front passenger seat, but did his too.

“Between the two of us—” Rocco glared at the driver. “If something smells wrong, the ties come off, and you’ll be in a world of hurt. You feel me?”

“El Mateperros prefers anonymity.”

“As do I. But I’m only willing to play this game up to a point. That stunt outside earned the ACG no goodwill with me.”

He donned the blindfold, then listened and anticipated every move, memorizing the turns and traverses. They were going back and forth. The luxury sedan clipped carefully over railroad tracks at the same crossing more than once. Made sense. The driver was being careful to keep their precious Dog Killer hidden. Rocco didn’t much care since he already been there. A couple of blindfolds and beefed up ACG blowhards trying to touch his woman wouldn’t keep him from mission accomplished.

Caterina’s hand found his again. Cloaked under the black silk blindfolds, they sat in the back seat. He stroked his thumb over her delicate knuckles. It never failed to surprise him how soft she felt, even when the image of her in black, wielding sparking electrical wires was his favorite memory of her. Well, of her
clothed
.

Her lips found his earlobe. “You okay?”

Rocco jerked back to look at her even though he was blindfolded. “Yeah. You?”

She eased closer, and her lips tickled his neck, then his ear. All part of the man-and-wife charade, but the pinpricks running across his skin wasn’t faked.

“This means more to me than you will ever know.” She held her breath. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. Feel her. “I need you to know that.”

He shivered. “Understood.”

“I wish you did.”

The black tie blocked everything out. No sun. No outlines. He imagined her biting her lip, looking lost, but he didn’t know why. He would rather she work that sinful smile and bat those thick, dark lashes. He wanted her try to convince their onlookers of their newlywed spark, of their deep connection. Too bad he was already convinced. Hell, well past convinced and on his way to believing his own BS. A couple in love...

Caterina whispered, “If things don’t go as planned. If… something happens, we’re partners.”

Something? Like what? Nothing could happen that they hadn’t prepared for, with the exception of a trippy freakin’ mental breakdown. He wouldn’t have an episode. That simply wasn’t an option. He’d kill himself trying to stop it before he left her alone with El Mateperros.

Wait. He wasn’t alone. Suddenly, Roman made much more sense. Which meant Jared knew. Maybe. And what did Roman know? Rocco would deal with that line of questioning ASAP, but in the meantime, he had Cat talking about vague what-ifs and partnerships, and he needed her to focus.

“We’re married, Kitten. You’re stuck with me.” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “Nothing to worry about.”

A few more turns and curves and the engines stopped.

“Blindfolds off.” The driver exited and opened Cat’s door. Rocco and Roman snagged theirs off. Cat twisted her silk tie around her fingers. Nervous? Not this lady. No way.

But something was bothering her. Then all of her fidgeting stopped like she’d flipped a switch. “This may be the best and worst day of my life.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Caterina had been at El Mateperros’s quaint house just the day before, but it hadn’t had the same effect as it did that moment. Today, she would face him. As she exited the Mercedes, her head spun. She balanced on her heels and stymied the overwhelming urge to run into the house, find El Mateperros, and put a bullet between his eyeballs. Quick and easy wouldn’t do. He needed to suffer, and Titan needed to find out everything they could about the ACG before she ended the Dog Killer’s miserable existence. That was the right thing to do for London, but more importantly, that was the right thing to do because Rocco wanted Titan to assist in dismantling the ACG.

It wasn’t lost on her that his motivations were playing into her plans.

The ACG men exited the second Mercedes, and they all began the walk toward the house. She couldn’t wait to meet El Mateperros. What did evil look like? And what made him hide? Horribly disfigured? Humpbacked and covered in mangled warts? That was a little clichéd, but why else would a man hide so deftly?

Rocco and Roman flanked her. She barely noticed. They had spoken to her, but she had no idea what they said. In seconds, she would be face to face with the man who’d ordered her family’s massacre. The man who’d earned his name on her family. The Cruz family’s massacre had started El Mateperros’s rise to fame, if the local rumor mill was to be believed. The ACG had been a fledging group the day they’d killed her family, leaving her alive. It was the first day that monster had started his reign of brutality.

Yesterday, the country house and all its cuteness had irritated. Today it was almost unbearable. Potted flower boxes lined the first floor windows, and the stone path they walked on was smooth, surrounded by manicured grass. Surrounded by the ACG men, Rocco took her hand. Roman walked ahead. Her pulse raced while her mouth went dry. Just feet until she breached the door. Five. Four. Three. Two. And she was inside the home of her prey, her target, her life’s obsession. She trembled in the waves of adrenaline. So very close. Inside the door, nutmeg and allspice hung in the air. Her irritation quadrupled.

“Weapons.” The man Rocco had skirmished with beckoned his hand at them. “You’ll get them back.”

Rocco growled. “Again, not how we do business.”

“Then we’ll take you back.”

A standoff ensued. Long seconds felt like decades. Caterina shifted, trying for nonchalant but drowning in impatience. Rocco shifted too, then nodded to Roman. They disarmed. She waited for him to motion to her to do the same. A quick nod gave her the go. But with all their eyes on her and her gun way up her thigh…
Screw it
. She hiked up her skirt, unholstered the gun, and placed it in the hands of a man who might’ve just come in his pants.