Surrounded on all sides and tied to a kitchen stool, he’s bare chested and hunching over a bit, hands and feet bound by rope through the wooden legs.
If he moves wrong, he’ll tip over.
If he pisses me off to quickly, I’ll slit his throat.
Sitting forward in my chair, I get in his face. “How have you been, Mr. Arroyo?”
“Why am I here?” His eyes keep shifting between myself and the raging lion beside him. Thiago’s looking at him through narrowed eyes and a snarling lip—it curls over his teeth at the corner while he chews on a toothpick. “Mr. Rivera, what’s going on? I—”
He’s cut off by another strike. This time it comes from Ivan and the four-inch blade in his hand. A quick jab and it’s embedded deep into his right side, causing him to choke on a scream.
Pulling the blade out, he cleans it on the man’s bare skin. “Answer Mr. Jameson when he asks you a direct question.”
“Mr. J-Jameson.” His voice breaks while his limbs begin to shake. Good, he knows who I am. “This is a mistake.”
“People who usually say that without any prompting or accusations being presented are usually guilty.” My eyes shift to Callum who quickly does as Ivan did, stabbing him in the back area, near the kidneys. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we?”
“Yes,” he cries out, body wanting to bow in on itself, but the bindings don’t let him. Instead, every move he makes creates a shooting pain that races through his limbs. Causes more rivulets of red to stain the floor below.
“Good boy.” And I pet his head like I do my dogs back in London. I need to buy a house in both Chicago and Boston...bring my boys with me. “How are you today?”
“Scared. In pain.”
“Honest. I like that. Don’t you, Thiago?” The man just grunts in affirmation, eyes hard on the cunt responsible. “We’ll take that as a yes.”
“Now, do you know why you’re here?”
“No...fuck...okay!” Thiago chose his spot with precision, stabbing him in the thigh and with the blade inside to the handle, he twists his wrist, tearing through the muscle in the post painful way. This isn’t a straight cut; it’s jagged and rough. “Please, I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“So speak. Tell me why you snitched to the feds, got our shipment seized, and then cost us a lot of money?” I tick each one with the tip of my karambit, slicing the very tip of my pointer as I do. “Talk.”
“It was to get you out of Chicago.”
“The fuck did you just say?” I’m hearing myself talk, but it sounds far away. Fury ignites within my veins, my worry for Aurora overtaking all of my senses. “You have ten bloody seconds to explain yourself.”
“The Savino family paid me a lot of money to—” I don’t need to hear him finish—I’ve already slit his throat and I’m rushing out of the room. The other three are following close behind as I leave the building with my mobile in hand.
“Call Malcolm and tell him to take her to his house.” Callum moves past me, already dialing while Thiago places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Not now.”
“What’s going on? How can we help?”
“They’re going after my girl, brother.”
“Then we’re all going to Chicago, Jameson. Nobody touches family.”
33
“SO,” I say, drawing out the word as I stare at the rearview mirror and the man reflected there.
“So,” he replies.
“Interesting to see you again.”
“I saw this coming,” Alexander says. He’s driving me to work. It was a promise I made to Casper before he left for Miami, and the man can be very persuasive. With his mouth between my thighs, he can get me to agree to just about anything and knows it. “Besides, have you not noticed just how determined he is when wanting something?”
“Touché. But in my defense—” I’m interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone. It’s a Boston area code and I pick up. “Hello?”
“Aurora?” It’s a woman, and the voice is familiar.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Oh! Umm, it’s Lisa...your father’s secretary.”
“Good morning, Lisa.” Alexander eyes me from the rear view, brow raised high. I put my hand over the phone’s receiver. “My dad’s secretary. Not sure what she wants.”
He nods, and Lisa on the phone clears her throat a few times. “Miss Conte? Are you there?”
“Sorry. You caught me mid coffee order.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and when Alexander snickers, I roll my eyes. “How can I help you?”
“I apologize for the interruption, but your father would like to invite you to lunch today. He’s in Chicago, and wants to know if you’re free from twelve to two?”
“Why is my father in Chicago?”
“There’s some commercial property he’s looking into buying near West Hubbard Street and would like to see you.”
“Why didn’t he call me himself?” Even at his most neglectful, Dad never involved his staff. This is weird. “Better yet, tell him to call me. I’ll make the time if he does.”
“Please don’t get me in trouble.” And it’s the fear in her voice that makes me pause. The last thing I want to do is take my annoyance out on an innocent bystander.
“Fine. Tell him to meet me for lunch at the Mexican place. He knows which one.”
Upon arrival at the Conte House, I dig into my daily tasks. Catching up on email takes up most of my morning, and shortly before noon Alexander taps on my office door, ready to take me to meet my father for lunch.
“Go get yourself some lunch,” I tell Alexander, exiting the vehicle in the back parking lot area. I’m but a few feet from the door and my father should already be inside waiting. Not that Matteo bothered to call me. Lisa was the one to confirm the place and time an hour later.
“No,” he says without pause.
“I’m safe with my father,” I argue.
Alexander’s expression is deadly serious as he regards me. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Miss Conte, I have strict orders from Mr. Jameson to not let you out of my sight. Let’s not ruin my track record here.”
“You weren’t there in Boston,” I point out, remembering how uncomfortable Dominic made me feel. “Where were you then?”
His gaze holds a hint of something. A secret he feels ready to spill. “The room next to yours is a storage dump-all where your father shoved whatever his ex-wife didn’t take. I was in there, gun up and ready to shoot, but you handled yourself impeccably.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him. “Wow.” Once again, Casper amazes me. I had no idea Alexander had followed me a thousand miles to keep watch. More than that, he managed to get inside without detection in a home that should be a fortress with how serious my father takes his security. He can be a bit paranoid at times.
“He cares. Has from the very start.”
My lips pull up into a smile. “I do too, you know.”
“And I think you shouldn’t.” It comes from behind me, and before I can take in Alexander’s expression, fear locks me in place. Everything happens around me in slow motion; one minute we’re holding a normal conversation, and the next I’m being pushed out of the way as a gun goes off.
My head hits the hard pavement, bouncing twice, and my vision blurs a bit.
“Run!” It’s my guard’s voice I hear, and it snaps me out of my momentary shock. More bullets fly. Different directions. So much noise. And as I try to reach for my Glock within my purse, I’m being yanked up by the hair, forcibly shoved and made to face Alexander’s kneeling form on the ground.
A strike to my cheek snaps my head to the side. A cry leaves me as pain floods in from the impact, radiating through my face.
But that pain helps me focus; it brings my attention to the woman to my right as she unloads another shot into Alexander’s body.
He falls back and the gun slips from his hand.
There’s no time to react, to attempt to
get away—there’s just a pinprick to my arm.
The last thing I remember is saying her name.
“Detective Santos?”
I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know what time it is.
I can’t see anything but darkness all around me.
Everything is slowly coming back into focus and my body hurts—my head feels as though it’s going to explode.
Shifting to draw my hands to my temples, I realize I’m bound and the continuous movement all around me is that of a car. Or van.
I can’t see, and the scratch of cloth across my skin tells me it’s because of a blindfold covering my eyes. But more worrisome than anything, what has me near tears, is the hand slowly stroking my hair as if I were a pet.
An unknown caress that sends a chill down my spine while I lie as still as I can.
“I do love a woman who plays hard to get. Breaking them is much more rewarding,” a male voice says and it’s familiar, has a certain lilt to it that makes me cringe, and that’s a huge mistake. He notices, letting out a low chuckle before there’s another pinprick on my arm. “Sleep, Miss Conte. We’ll be playing a special game soon enough.”
“He’ll find me,” is all I manage to say before it all goes black.
I’m on a bed. It’s comfortable and smells clean, but definitely not one I know. That, and I’m not a fan of the harsh citrusy scent inside the room.
The more awareness looms on the edges of my subconscious, the colder I become, and the thin blanket thrown over my body doesn’t help much. I don’t move, though, lying completely still in order to pick up noises all around me.
It’s quiet, but I don’t trust it.
I don’t trust anything at the moment.
It’s fight or flight, and I need to keep my wits about me if I’m going to escape these lunatics. Especially the man.
There’s something familiar about him, a natural disgust, that reminds me of Dominic. Even his voice held a similar tone.
“Open your eyes, Aurora.” My eyes snap open and my worst nightmare is confirmed. “Hello, beautiful. Ready to get married?”
34
Message received at 12:00 p.m.
Mr. Jameson, I’ve spotted Cancio’s second-in-command lurking around her apartment building. He didn’t see me, but the bloke walked up and down the street twice, phone in his ear, and then left. I’m on my way to the Conte House now, and will be calling Alexander shortly. I’ll await your call on how to proceed.
Message received @12:30 p.m.
Sir, I need you to call me. Aurora went to meet with her father for lunch and has gone missing. Alexander has been shot, two to the chest and one to the arm. Police are involved, happened outside a Mexican restaurant, and he’s being attended at Northwestern... Casper, we don’t know where Aurora is.
Message received @12:40 p.m.
Sir, it’s Ezra. I was able to get through the encryption and found some alarming facts. Detective Santos is none other than Antonella Savino. Her alias was given by the department head in BPD, a family member of Matteo’s deceased mother-in-law, her last name before marriage was Savino. Giada Savino at that. This is larger than we suspected, more so because she and her brother, Dominic, are the older children of one Samantha Cancio. They were before their marriage occurred and were raised by a family friend—away from Matteo, Aurora, and Lucas. Samantha is also the informant for this case. I’ll be emailing you the proof shortly.
THAT’S WHAT GREETS me as the plane touches down in Chicago. It’s been five hours since the son of a bitch in Miami let me know that it was all a setup. Five hours since my world was taken from me, and I want to kill every motherfucker that so much as breathes in my direction.
No one knows where Gem is. They’ve disappeared.
“We’ll find her, Casper.” Callum squeezes my shoulder, jumping into an all-black SUV waiting for me. Jeffrey is behind the wheel and he nods in greeting, slowly pulling away from the curb as Thiago and Ivan jump into another vehicle. I don’t know who the driver is, nor do I care, but my guess is my employees knew I’d want my space at the moment.
I’m not thinking rationally. The anger is consuming me.
“Head to his flat,” Callum tells Jeffrey and the man nods. My place here is not that far from Aurora’s, maybe a ten-minute drive at the most, and I need to head there first. “Do I bring Archie here? I’ll call and have him on a plane if you think we need him.”
“No. Leave him with Dad just in case.” Which reminds me. “Has anyone called her father? Where the fuck is he?”
“No,” Jeffrey interjects from the front. “And from my understanding, the one that called to set up the lunch meeting was the secretary. Alex was semi-conscious when I got to the restaurant, was just being put on a gurney, and he told me this. Dominic and Antonella have her.”
“I want their blood on my hands,” I ground out.
“Ezra’s doing his thing and says he’ll have something soon. He’s tracking Aurora’s phone signal. It’s last ping was near the Missouri border.”
“They’re heading west.” It’s not a question.
“Seems so.”
“Okay. Okay.” I need to get home and prepare. “Get her father on the phone for me. He needs to get his arse here, and the secretary has some explaining to do.”
Businessman Matteo Cancio was shot outside of his downtown office early this morning. Witnesses say they heard the gun fire, a rapid succession of bullets around nine a.m. The area was closed down shortly after. The millionaire was rushed to the nearest hospital and has been listed in critical condition.
The special report bulletin has been running on the bottom of the television screen over and over for the past few hours. It’s the same for every major news network.
And that explains where her father has been.
So far, they have no leads or motives, and his secretary is with the police. She was the last to be with him, just ten minutes prior to him leaving the building, and is being interrogated.
My money is on her being involved somehow.
I look at Callum and tilt my head in the direction of the balcony. He follows me, leaving the other two inside, passing me a cigarette before lighting his own.
“Something isn’t right with that,” Callum says.
“No. It isn’t.” Pulling the smoke into my lungs, I hold it for a few seconds and exhale. “Have you heard from Ezra? Has Samantha been found?” Because she’s also gone missing, while Lucas is staying at his dad’s home. The staff there is watching him—keeping him away from the news—until I know what we’re facing.
Funny enough, they called me when the first report released, telling me they were under strict instructions to take direction from me—or Aurora. No questions asked. Period.
“Still gone and—” We’re interrupted by the Face Time application on my mobile. I hit accept at once. “What do you have for me?”
Ezra comes onto the screen from his home office, hair a mess and bags under his eyes. “Sir, I have visual from an airport in St. Louis where Antonella caught a cheap flight out, and the destination is Vegas. The name it was booked under matches her work I.D. and Casper; she wasn’t alone. Samantha, Cancio’s ex-wife, boarded the same flight under the name Giada Savino.”
“Both heading to Vegas?”
“Yes. It was a direct flight.” There’s an alert coming from his screen then, a loud blaring sound, and he looks away from me. Placing the phone down, I watch as his fingers fly over his keyboard and then a wicked grin overtakes his features. “Gotcha.”
“What’s going on, mate? Did you—”
Ezra cuts me off, his eyes scanning the screen in front of him. “He chartered a small aircraft in St. Louis after going their separate ways and has now been in the air for two hours. Destination is also Las Vegas.”
Finally. Direction to my Gem. “You’re getting a bonus for all these extra hours.”
“Not needed. Just kill the bloody bastards...they deserve every last
bit of karma coming their way.”
The bright lights of the Las Vegas sign welcome us six hours later. After hanging up with Ezra, we got things done quickly. A change of clothes and out the door—my only pit stop was to her flat, where I grabbed something for Gem to change into.
After the day she’s had, my girl will need the comfort.
They’re staying at the Venetian. Top floor. ~Ezra
Credit card on hold for hotel is Aurora’s ~Ezra
Typing out a quick “Thanks” I pocket my phone and walk out with the others. I called in a favor before boarding the plane back in Chicago to my colleague in Vegas.
Julio Villanueva is not a trafficker but a runner, and his MC is my go-between for the States and the largest Cartel south of the border. He knows people. Knows the city like the back of his hand and can get me anything I need for my buyers overseas.
Or, like now, he can find a few unmarked cars and the weapons I need.
“Good to see you, Jameson.” He pulls me into a one-arm hug. “Wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me too.” Walking to the trunk of the first car, I hold my hand in the air waiting for the keys—he tosses, and I catch them, popping the back using the key fob. The compartment is fully loaded. Inside, I have everything I need and a few extras: guns, bulletproof vests, magazines, cans of gasoline, and even a machete or two. “Thank you, mate. This is perfect.”
“Do you know where they have her?”
“Why do people come to Vegas?” I ask instead, slamming the trunks closed. “Why is Sin City so bloody popular to tourists?”
“Gambling—”
“And bullshit wedding chapels with twenty-four-hour service.” My mobile pings then with an incoming text from Gem’s phone and I pull it out, opening my messages to find my suspicions confirmed.
Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2) Page 24