Page 101 of Impenitent Claim

When I strike, you won’t even see me coming.“I would expect nothing less.”

The don threw open his arms. “Benvenuto alla Famiglia, Elijah.”

Various rumbles of the same sentiment ran around the room. Before I could storm out of there, I had to endure an hour of conversation with my supervisor. Christophoro was thorough,albeit a moody little fucker. If I thought I was annoyed by the delay in ending the mob before, it was nothing to the riotous feelings bubbling through me as I walked out the front door just after sunrise.

I headed straight for the gym, where the bag received not a drop of mercy. I should have been delighted my ploy to infiltrate the mob had worked so well. But I no longer needed the access to accomplish my goals. And now, instead of taking Isabella away in a matter of days, I wouldn’t be able to for a week at least.

Chapter 38 – Ilya

The water in the sink ran pink as it diluted the crimson stains. The last capo was a messy little shit, deciding to squirm out of my hold more than once. I had to resort to using a knife. But at last, he was gone.

The phone in my duffel bag played a new melody.

I froze, my ears straining to catch the notes.

It couldn’t be.

No one else had that tone.

What are you doing? Answer her, you idiot!

I scrambled across the room, tearing the zipper open, snatching the phone from the inside, and stabbing at the screen. The moisture on my fingers made the contact slippery. Once. Twice! On the third try, it connected.

“Hello,” I gasped. “Izzy?”

“Phantom! Hi, um…are you okay?” Laughter mixed with uncertainty in her voice.

I cleared my throat. “I just got home.”

“Oh, home,” she breathed. “Oh, okay, never mind. Have a dog for me at Byron’s.”

“What?” And then it dawned on me. “I’m at my flat. Here. In Jersey.”

This time her relief was palpable. “I thought home meant Chicago.”

Not without you, rusalka.“So…you like Byron’s?” I asked by way of distracting her.

“It’s the thing I miss most about the Windy City. Best hot dogs imaginable.”

“We’ll have to go,” I mused and sat on the bed. There might be DNA from my unwashed, sullied clothing. I was pretty sure the stain on my leg, from where the capo leaked on me, was still wet. I looked. Sure enough. There was blood on the duvet. Screw it, I’d burn anything fibrous before I left town.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Isabella said, voice becoming suddenly businesslike.

“Do tell.” Apprehension clawed inside me. She didn’t seem opposed to me massacring her entire organization, but the topic of what came after hadn’t been discussed.

Her long exhale blew against the mouthpiece. My skin craved to feel it, straining toward the intangible sound.

“I want a proper date, Ilya.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

That could mean so many things. Most guys did the typical dinner, maybe catching a show. Under the current circumstances, it would be difficult but not impossible. Given everything we’d been through, however, that typical dinner show nonsense wasn’t going to cut it for me. Unless she expressly wanted it. Even then I would pull out every stop and flare to make it the most Isabella-approved dinner show imaginable and—

“I can’t pilfer the food, but if you brought a picnic basket,” she suggested timidly, “we could meet up in the woods. Have a meal. Talk.”

I held my breath waiting for more.

She seemed to be waiting too.

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