The Black Wolf (In the Company of Killers, #5)(28)

“For anything I might have to do,” he says.

I just nod back at him, accepting everything, including his apology.

“Now about those clothes,” Niklas speaks up.

We spend the rest of the flight going over the terminology and the rules and how Nora and I should act and dress and carry ourselves at all times.

Maybe I’m feeling a false sense of safety knowing why Victor sent Niklas with us, because I’m not as nervous as I probably should be. But I do feel safe. More than that, I’m overwhelmed with determination, excitement. Because I know I can do this. I know I can prove to them that I can be in this ‘environment’ and not be affected by it. Even though I’m not going to get to actually play the slave role on this mission, maybe I can still show Victor that I can handle it and he may change his mind later and let me play the slave role on the mission to Mexico.

I will do whatever it takes to make that happen.





Niklas





Izabel isn’t anywhere near as nervous as she should be, but she’ll come around. Once she’s inside that place, feeling dozens of eyes combing every inch of her, she’ll start to feel the repercussions of her decision to go through with this. She’ll do exactly what she said she doesn’t do: flinch and recoil when someone touches her; she’ll have debilitating flashbacks of her old life when someone says a trigger word—she thinks she’s over what happened to her in Mexico, but no one gets over something like that, that easily. No one.

But I’ll be there to catch her when she falls—I’ll have to be, so she doesn’t get us killed. And she already despises me, so whatever I have to resort to doing to her while on this mission, at least it won’t change the already tumultuous relationship between us much.

As far as her relationship with Victor though—my brother…my dear, murderous brother, what have you done? What were you thinking sending Izabel, of all people, into an underground world like this one in Italy?

I know. Oh, I know all right.

It’s no surprise, really, what Victor is doing. I’ve known him all my life, and deep down, despite his love for her, he’s the same man he’s always been. And he always will be.

~~~

We arrive in Naples, and it’s like setting foot on a memory when I step out of the plane. I was here years ago, on a mission for The Order. But it was my short time with Claire that brings back the memory—not the mission. Claire told me once that she’d always wanted to go to Italy. I even went as far as promising I’d take her someday, though I knew it’d probably never happen.

I’ll never forgive my brother for what he did.

Never.

Izabel, Nora and myself set up in the most extravagant hotel in the city center. I check in as the wealthy and cruel bastard, Niklas Augustin. From here on out until we finish this mission, I’ll have to let my nuts suffocate in these suits and feel more like my brother than I want to feel. I swore to myself I’d never wear another suit again, but kind of like that promise I made to Claire, I should’ve known better.

A bellboy, dressed in a black pinstripe suit and bowtie, leads the way to our suite on the top floor of the hotel overlooking the sprawling city below. Nora keeps her eyes down until I tip the bellboy and he leaves us alone in the room.

I go toward the balcony doors and push them open with the palms of my hands into the mild autumn air. Izabel and Nora do a sweep of the room to check for audio or video devices. It’s unlikely there’d be anything in here now since no one knew we were coming, but it never hurts to be sure. This is precisely why we left so quickly, instead of giving Moretti’s people time to contemplate and plan for the arrival of a new customer.

“It’s clean,” Nora announces as she puts the bug detector away in a bag. “Only wireless signal it picked up was the internet.”

“Same here,” Izabel says, stepping up. “So what’s our first move?”

I turn from the double glass doors and look at them both. Izabel is dressed in a thin cream-colored dress that hangs just above her knees, pulled tight around her small waist by a thin black ribbon belt. She wears a pair of high-heeled cream shoes with a delicate strap over the top of her feet. Nora, needing to appear more my property than Izabel does, wears a simple slate gray dress, but is longer, stopping two inches below the knees and left to hang freely about her body; she wears flat-soled white shoes cut below her ankles. Their hair is pulled into tight ponytails at the back of their heads. Only Izabel wears jewelry and carries a small black purse. They’re both really f*cking beautiful. It’s roles like these that make this job so worth it.

Pinching my mouth on one side as I look them up and down, I contemplate our next move.

“I say we dive right in,” I answer. “I think I’ve told you enough on the plane.”

“Then let’s do this,” Nora says.

I look to Izabel.

“I’ve been ready since yesterday,” she says with determination, confidence.

I just hope she’s not overconfident.

We spent a great deal of time on the flight going over every detail of the mission, every plan in case one plan goes to shit. I’m not worried about these people believing I am who I claim to be; my identity as Niklas Augustin was set firmly in place a year ago, ready and waiting for any given mission where the particular role would be needed. Having James Woodard, and other experts like him at our disposal, and having many ties outside of Victor’s Order, allows us to create believable identities with bogus lives dating as far back as we need them to. I have about thirty other firmly rooted identities at my disposal. But that doesn’t mean Francesca Moretti, or whoever she sends in her stead, will trust me by any means. I perfectly expect to have the distrust of everyone I might encounter involved with Moretti’s business.