All In (Caldwell Brothers Book 5)

by Colleen Charles

  I glance down and shudder when I see that someone has removed my sneakers and socks. In the harsh, bright light of the warehouse, my missing pinky toe is more noticeable than ever.

  “After all.” Dante’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “You’ve still got all those toes on your left foot!” He laughs then, and he’s joined by a couple of thugs who have been sitting in the corner. The sound jars me, and I wonder how I didn’t notice them before.

  Of course, Dante didn’t do this alone, I think as my rage begins to build.

  “You had to have thugs do all your work for you,” I snarl. “Couldn’t even manage to kidnap a one-hundred and ten-pound woman, could you?”

  Dante’s cheeks turn purple with anger. He moves so quickly that I don’t have time to dodge the hard slap that knocks my head sideways.

  “You’d better watch your tongue,” Dante growls. “You forget who’s really in control here, you pain in the ass cunt. Your father knows it because he’s a smart man. But you’d better fucking remember before I cut your tongue out, just to watch you bleed.”

  Fear washes over me, and I swallow as a fresh coat of sweat breaks out all over my body. Dante gives me a scrutinizing look, and I know that he senses my rising terror. This is my worst nightmare, come back to haunt me. But this time, no one is going to help me. I’m at the mercy of Dante Giovanetti, and even if Troy didn’t hate me, he’d never be able to find me. A torrent of regret washes over me.

  Why the hell did I have to say all of those awful things? Why couldn’t I just have accepted the obvious bond between us and gotten over my first impressions of Troy? Listened to him? Learned from him? Loved him?

  Thinking about it makes me want to cry. I’m going to die never having put my best foot forward in a personal relationship outside of the one with my father.

  “Hey, you,” Dante calls over his shoulder, keeping one eye locked on me. “Bring those rusty shears over here. I don’t like these. They’re too new. Too sharp.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Troy

  There’s nothing like driving in the darkness with music blaring, not knowing where you’re going, just driving on through the black nighttime air. That’s what I’ve always done to relax.

  And until now, it’s always done the trick.

  Tonight, though…well, tonight’s a different story. And I have a feeling that I could drive until the first rays of dawn appear, and it wouldn’t make me feel any better. I’ve never felt so many emotions at once. Or at least, I’ve never been so angry that I can barely focus on the road.

  How did things with Joslyn get so fucked up? Over and over. It’s like I can’t even think of other words. Her name keeps running through my head. As my tires churn the Nevada asphalt, my mind churns Joslyn’s angry words.

  I know I can’t go home. What the hell would I do? Lie on the couch and pretend like it’s a normal night? The idea seems ludicrous. And as much as I’m tempted to grab a twenty-four pack of beer and see just how many cans I can drain before sunrise, alcohol isn’t going to fix my problems.

  Hell, nothing is going to fix my problems. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m responsible for something horrible that I’ll never be able to undo.

  When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I pull over to the side of the road and swipe open the call. I don’t even care – nothing is going to feel the same anymore, so why bother? And I just know that Nixon is going to hear about my colossal blowout with Joslyn and forget about considering me for the vice president job. With my luck, he’ll give me that look of disappointment that I despise.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m calling for a Troy Cass.” The unfamiliar man’s voice confuses me.

  “Yeah. Who is this?”

  “It’s Jim Monroe.” Monroe. Joslyn’s father? He sounds panicked. “Do you know where my daughter is?”

  “No. Not really. The last time I saw her, she was at the Armónico, standing inside the parking garage and pitching a fit.”

  “The security tapes show her leaving hours ago,” Jim says. “She’s not home, she’s not at the studio, she’s not at her women’s shelter. You sure you haven’t heard from her?”

  “Why would I have heard anything?” I feel more than a little annoyed. “She probably went home to go yell at someone else.”

  “I’m worried something happened to her. And she’d told me a few days ago that she was working with you – training for that American Ninja thing, or whatever. Are you sure you haven’t even gotten a text or social media alert? Do you think she went to stay with a friend for a few days?”

  “No, I’m sorry, but I have no idea where she is. Maybe she’s just not answering her phone, or maybe she went out for a run. I know she likes to run in the desert when she’s upset about something.”

  And that something is me.

  “She spent over an hour in her gym by herself.” Jim’s voice grows more hysterical by the minute. “Why would she go for a run right when she got home? She has to be exhausted.”

  “I don’t know.” And I don’t as I grasp at straws, trying to keep my distance. My annoyance starts to fade and my stomach twists when I realize that if Joslyn’s big-wig father leaks panic and fright, something might actually be wrong.

  “Can you please try to look for her? Please?”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “I can’t,” Jim says. “If something happened, trust me, they won’t get involved.”

  My heart slows to a dull, horrible thud in my chest, and suddenly, I have the sick feeling that Jim is right.

  “You mean you think Dante is involved?” Could it be possible? “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  “Please, you have to do something,” Jim begs. “I can’t let anyone hurt her – not again. Please Lord, not again.” His voice breaks. “Please, please say you’ll help me. I couldn’t live with myself if something else happened to my baby girl because of me.”

  “Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe, and I’ll have her call you as soon as I find her.”

  “Thank you.”

  I can tell that Jim’s holding back tears and my heart breaks for him as we hang up. Throwing my phone to the side, I shove my car into gear and do a fast spin on the deserted highway, pushing my foot to the gas pedal until it touches the floor.

  I feel like I can’t drive fast enough as I race past Vegas and towards the luxury community where Hawk lives. I’m so sorry, Joslyn. I grip the steering wheel with both hands and push my old car faster and faster until I feel like I’m flying through the night. Adrenaline floods my body, and I know that if Hawk can’t help me, I just lied to Jim Monroe. There’s no way I have a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Joslyn without his assistance. A slice of anger bites the inside of my chest, but not directed at Joslyn. I’m infuriated with myself for pushing her away, for not realizing that Dante Giovanetti posed a real risk to her safety.

  And now if something happens to her, it’s my fault. For the second time in my life, I will have failed Joslyn Monroe. Plus, I know that Dante doesn’t believe in playing games. If he hurts Joslyn, she likely won’t walk away alive.

  I just hope that crazy software is bug-free by the time I get to Hawk’s.

  Pulling up in front of his gate, I press the button and yell Hawk’s name until the light flashes and the gate crawls open. My leg itches to kick the gas and break it down just so I can get inside faster.

  “Come on, come on.” I shake my fist as the gap becomes wide enough for me to steer through. Before they’re open all the way, I press down on the gas pedal and push through. There’s a loud squeal, followed by the crunch of my headlights breaking, but I don’t give a shit. Racing through the community, I park in Hawk’s driveway and rush up to his door.

  Hawk stands in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “Man, what the hell? What’s going on?”

  Grabbing his arm, I drag him inside the house and slam the door behind me. “I have a fee
ling one of your neighbors is going to call the cops on me for breaking that gate. But that’s not important right now. I need to use that thing – that software – that you showed me last time.”

  Hawk scratches at his chin. “If you’re asking to take it to impress Nixon into giving you a private office, it’s not ready yet. And I’ll need some time fine-tuning it before–”

  “It’s not about Nixon.” I push past him. “Come on, a woman’s life is at stake here!”

  Hawk gives me a strange look but obediently walks over to the wall with the Frank Lloyd Wright print and slides it to the side before punching in the key code. When the secret door opens, I rush downstairs. Hawk follows behind.

  “Okay, you have to tell me what’s going on.” He walks over to the touch-screen table and swipes his hand across the surface until the golden map of Las Vegas appears.

  “Joslyn Monroe is in trouble.” I examine all the dots. “Her father called me in a panic, he thinks something happened. That Dante has her.”

  “Like what? I mean, have you tried calling her?”

  Hawk’s calm and rational behavior usually makes me respect him, but right now it’s enough to make my blood boil. I make a fist and slam it down on the table.

  “Dante Giovanetti did something to her. And we have to find her. The cops won’t get involved – Dante’s got them all wrapped up in his pocket, so we have to act fast if we don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “Okay, okay.” Hawk fires up the software, and I can barely hear the buzzing over the rush of blood in my ears. “Man, calm down – take a deep breath or two, okay? Freaking out over this isn’t going to help Joslyn. It’s like airplanes, right? You’ve got to put on your own oxygen mask before you can help others.”

  “Fuck my oxygen mask!” I yell. “Find her!”

  Hawk’s eyes get wide, and he nods. He types in her mobile number, and sure enough, the map zooms out, then back in over what looks like an abandoned building on the outskirts of Vegas. There are four golden dots, and three of them are moving around in a circle.

  “That’s Joslyn.” Hawk points to the unmoving dot.

  I stare for a moment, waiting to see if she’ll move.

  “What does that mean?” I ask in a blind panic. “Is she dead? If she’s not moving, is she dead?”

  “Man, I told you…you have to calm down,” Hawk says. “And I don’t know. But the warehouse is here.” He scribbles down a set of coordinates and hands me the paper. “And if you want to rescue her sans the authorities, that’s where you’re going to have to go.”

  “I have to go.” I yank the paper away from him. It feels like the whisper of hope on a prayer in my hands. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Hawk stares at me, sizing me up. I’ve never shown this much emotion and certainly not over a woman. “What’s going on with you two, anyway? The last time you were here, you couldn’t even say a good word about her. And now suddenly you want to rush in on your white horse without backup? That’s a good way to get yourself killed. Dante doesn’t fuck around. Never has. Remember that, Troy.”

  “Forget about that.” I slip the paper into my pocket and start up the stairs. “All that matters right now is that I find her alive.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Joslyn

  Beads of sweat roll down my face and my heart throbs a staccato tattoo in my chest, but I’m not going to let Dante see my explosive terror – no matter what happens. Sour bile rises up my throat as I watch one of Dante’s thugs crossing the room with a pair of rusty shears in his hand. The blades flash in the dim lighting, and I shudder, wondering just how badly Dante wants to hurt me. How far he’ll go before he stops. If he stops at all.

  “My father isn’t going to let you get away with this.” I infuse my voice with as much authority as I can muster.

  I try…I fail.

  Dante smiles, a cruel sneer of evil that doesn’t reach his beady eyes. A new shiver of fear slithers down my spine to land inside my quaking gut.

  “Sure, the news will likely be upsetting. But your old man is pretty timid when it comes down to it, Joslyn. After all, if he didn’t feel the need to tell you about his lawyer or the vote for the gaming commission…”

  I’m furious at the way Dante insinuates that my father has passed his expiration date, but I know now isn’t the time to make him angry by telling him he’s wrong.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” Dante says with a smirk. “And don’t you forget it, either.”

  “What do you want?” I demand. “You’re not after money, are you?”

  Dante snorts and waves his hand, dismissing my question. “Of course not.” He talks like I’ve insulted him. At this point, I wonder if that’s even possible. “What the fuck would I do with more money? I’m richer than that ancient dipshit Midas. I could buy and sell this entire city ten times over.”

  Yeah, because you launder money and steal from everyone with a pulse.

  “Then…what do you want with me?” I keep my tone calm and measured. Maybe I can distract him from removing me from another of my toes.

  “Revenge, Joslyn.” Dante paces in front of me, looming over my petite frame. “Your father really put me through the ringer with this shit. I’ve barely slept in weeks. Not to mention that mega asshole Nixon Caldwell and his brainless thug, what’s his name? Trey?”

  “Troy.” I let the syllable float across my lips like a caress. “His name is Troy Cass.”

  “Ah.” Dante turns on his heel and walks through the warehouse, gazing around as if he’s in the Louvre. “Yes, well, now that you’re starting to get the picture, I think we should have a little more fun. What do you think?” Dante gestures to his thug who holds up the shears and gives me a menacing grin. The sight sends a horrifying ripple of fear through me, but I sit straight and tall – at least, as straight and tall as I can manage while tied to an uncomfortable and rickety wooden chair. He may have reduced me to a quivering, sobbing mess last time.

  Not. This. Time.

  “Well, it’s been a delight getting to know you again, young lady. but I should really get going – you know, places to go, people to see.” He gives me a wicked grin with sparkling eyes. He’s really getting off on this. “I’m sure you’ll manage just perfectly here by yourself, what do you think?”

  You’re a motherfucking cocksucker piece of scum, I think. But instead, I say, “Let me go, Dante. Come on – let me go now, and I won’t tell a soul what happened.”

  Dante shakes his head. “Too late for that now.” He waves his hand in the air. He grabs his briefcase and turns to leave the warehouse. The thought of being trapped alone with his thug terrifies me, but I’ve made it this far without getting hurt – maybe I can make it just a little bit longer.

  The sound of a loud car engine makes Dante stop dead in his tracks. Beneath his carefully-cultivated spray tan, I see his lips turn white and bloodless.

  “What the fuck?” Dante hisses through clenched teeth. “Who could that be?”

  My heart leaps and soars. Dad! I think in excitement. You figured it out! The sound of a car door slamming and boot steps crunching along the gravel outside allows a thin sliver of hope to take root. But it fizzles as I realize my aging father presents zero threat to Dante Giovanetti.

  Dante drops his briefcase and whirls around, glaring at his two thugs. “Did you two screw this up?” Dante growls. “No one was supposed to ever come here. We own this damn warehouse.”

  The two thugs exchange a clueless look and turn to Dante before shrugging.

  “Ignorant morons,” Dante hisses under his breath with a lethal growl of anger. “Stay with her.” He turns to leave the warehouse just as I see a familiar, muscular body striding towards me.

  And it’s not my father.

  Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them away, quickly swallowing so no one will notice. Troy glances around the warehouse, squinting as his eyes adjust to the dim light. When he sees me, his jaw dro
ps, and he sighs with obvious relief.

  “And pray tell, just what the fuck are you doing here,” Dante asks Troy. “How the hell did you find me?”

  “I wasn’t looking for you,” Troy retorts, and pulls a gun from the waistband of his pants, lifting it until the barrel is trained directly on Dante. I inwardly cheer. “I was looking for her. Joslyn, you’re coming with me.”

  “How did you find this place?” Dante growls but his hands come up to the shoulders. “Tell the truth, you dipshit.”

  “It’s a secret,” Troy says. His lips twist into a smirk, and he saunters over to the chair where I’ve been hogtied for hours. Despite his meaty bulk, his fingers are nimble and quick, and he unties the ropes without much trouble. Dante and his thugs watch, speechless.

  “Do something,” Dante screams at his two thugs. “Stop him!”

  The two men rush at Troy, and I brace myself for the loud retort of the gun. But Troy doesn’t shoot. Instead, he swings a powerful punch that catches one man in the jaw. The man stumbles away and falls to the ground, groaning as blood gushes from his nose and mouth. The second thug doesn’t even move. He holds his hands up in surrender.

  “You got any more men?” Troy smirks. “Or do I have to take care of you, next?”

  Shaking as the blood returns to my limbs, I push myself to my feet and Troy moves beside me, putting his arm around my waist to help.

  From the corner of my eye, Dante moves. I scream a warning, but I’m too late. Dante pulls a gun from his pocket and aims it at Troy. I gasp, covering my mouth with both hands, but Troy seems unfazed, just keeps his own gun leveled on the horrible man.

  “You’re not going to kill me,” Troy says with a touch of arrogance that I’ve never heard before. He pushes me behind him. “Aside from the fact that I’m quicker, I know you don’t want any of this traced back to you. Nothing’s more important to you than the Mona Lisa and your crooked empire. All eyes are on you right now, thanks to Nixon. You wouldn’t risk it.”