Midnight Untamed

Up ahead in the dark, a pair of Breed thugs in black suits were prowling the perimeter of the house and surrounding grounds. Shit. They were both carrying semiautomatic pistols and looking short on patience. Maybe that was a good thing where Bella’s family members were concerned.

Savage threw the Pagani into park but left the engine running. Since his attire could raise questions he didn’t want to answer, he would have to employ his unique brand of obfuscation in order to get him past the other males’ suspicion.

Using the Breed ability that served him well in his stealth line of work, he conjured an illusion that turned his tactical gear into a black suit and altered his face and hair color. Then he pulled his own semiauto 9mm and climbed out of the car as if he had every right to be there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered loudly as he stalked toward the goateed man out front. “Where the fuck are the other guys?”

The henchman scowled. “What other guys? Far as I know, me and Luigi were the only ones called out for this job. Who the hell are you?”

“Backup,” Savage said, giving the man a look of disdain. He called out to the second man, a thick-necked mountain of a male who was just coming around from the rear of the farmhouse. “What the fuck’s taking you so long, Luigi? You find that bitch and her brat back there?”

Luigi shook his head as he started jogging over to meet them. “Not yet. They must’ve cleared out before we got here.”

Savage grunted. “Good.”

He popped a round into each man’s skull before either of them could react. The two would-be killers dead on the ground, he jogged back to the Pagani. Arabella was still hunkered down on the floor in front of the passenger seat like he’d instructed her. Good girl.

He opened the door. “It’s okay. Chiara and your nephew aren’t here and the two men sent to find them won’t be looking for them anymore.”

“Thank God.” She lifted her head, pushing herself up to peer into the darkness where Massioni’s men lay unmoving in the grass near the house. “But Chiara wouldn’t have known to run away. There wouldn’t have been time to get very far, especially with a three-year-old in tow.” She glanced up at him, worry—and a small glimmer of hope—in her soft brown eyes. “But I think I might know where they are.”

Savage held out his hand to assist her from the car. Gathering up the long skirt of her dress, she ran past the dead Breed males with Savage at her side. They entered the sacked villa and she headed immediately for the sampling room at the back of the expansive house. An immense wine cellar was attached to the room, its floor-to-ceiling wine racks filled with bottles of nearly every vintage the vineyard had ever produced.

“Over here,” Bella said, walking to the far wall.

The bottles housed in those racks looked to be the oldest in the collection. Most of them were covered in a fine layer of dust. Pulling a sliding wooden ladder toward her, she climbed up and reached for one of the highest bottles in the old rack. Instead of pulling the aged bottle of Aglianico out, she twisted it clockwise.

It wasn’t a bottle. It was a lever to a secret chamber.

One narrow section of racked wine popped open soundlessly.

Bella swung a glance over her shoulder at him. “My father had this panic room installed during the wars after First Dawn twenty years ago.”

She started to duck inside. Savage caught her by the arm. “Stay close to me, Bella. If anything happens to you, I couldn’t…”

He let the thought trail, but his touch lingered longer than necessary. She gave him a curious look, then nodded.

They stepped inside the unlit, cavernous room. Large oak barrels, shelves of paper supplies, and chunky, hand-hewn wooden tables made the secret chamber appear to be nothing more remarkable than a workroom for the vineyard.

Bella reached to turn on a light switch just inside. “Chiara?” she called softly. “Are you in here? It’s me, Arabella.”

A small whimper sounded from somewhere behind the barrels. Then a petite, pretty brunette emerged from the shadows, her dark-haired toddler son held protectively in her arms. “Bella!”

The two women raced to each other, embracing amid Chiara’s tears and Bella’s quiet assurances that she and Pietro were okay now. That they were safe.

Savage stood back from the emotional reunion, all too conscious of the fact that every minute they delayed here was one more minute they risked being discovered. They were fortunate that only two of Massioni’s henchmen had been dispatched to the vineyard. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be more sent to sniff around and make sure the job was finished.

The dead Breed males in the yard would be ashed by the morning sun, but whoever sent them would be waiting for them to return or report in.

And now that he was thinking about daylight…

It was late, and all too soon it would be dawn. They were too far afield to make the drive back to the command center before the sun rose and ashed him, too, which meant he needed to find them somewhere secure to settle in for the night.

Grabbing his phone, Savage called the scrambled line at the Order in Rome to apprise them of the situation. He’d already ignored more than one call from base demanding the status of the mission. He’d have hell to pay when he got back, no doubt. Probably right now too.

Trygg’s dark growl greeted him on the other end. “Having a good time out there?”

Savage grunted. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

“No shit? Was that before or after you jeopardized the entire mission in order to chase after some former tail?”

Okay, so maybe he deserved that. He definitely deserved it. But Trygg didn’t understand, and Savage didn’t have time to explain it right now. “Her name’s Arabella Genova. I had to go back in for her and get her out of there. You’re going to have to trust me on that.”

“Not my trust you need to worry about,” Trygg said. “Commander Archer’s on a call with Lucan Thorne in D.C. as we speak. They weren’t happy to hear you went AWOL in the middle of an op.”

“Yeah, well, I got the job done.”

“You sure about that? You verified Massioni blew up with his villa, right?” When Savage let the question hang a second too long, Trygg hissed a low curse. “You didn’t verify. Jesus, Savage. I hope to fuck she’s worth it, man.”