Turning, I’m already pulling my gun out of my cut as I see Violet scooped up and thrown into a car, which speeds off.
My bullets do nothing but bounce off the bulletproof bodywork.
Chapter Twenty-One
Violet
I was blindfolded in the car so I’ve no idea where they’ve brought me, and no way of telling the outside world even if I did, as I haven’t got my phone. I don’t even know who they are, though I’ve my suspicions, of course. Who’d want to take me except for Angelino?
I’ve not been tied up. Apart from a little rough handling when I was shoved into the car, they haven’t been violent to me. The room I’ve been left in is pleasant enough, clean, but with a locked door and window.
Was it Angelino? Or does Demon have enemies I know nothing about? I am, after all, the president’s old lady. The only thing I find puzzling, but am grateful for, is that I’m here, but Theo is not.
I was expected. There’s a plate of sandwiches covered in saran wrap, and a bottle of water. Huh. Won’t be touching that. I’ve already learned my lesson, I’ll be eating or drinking nothing while I’m here. Truth be told, I couldn’t eat anything even if I was hungry. I’m worried sick, and not just about myself and who’s kidnapped me. The carnage I saw first in the rearview mirror, then for a brief second before I’d been taken away had been terrifying, men and bikes all over the road.
Had anyone died or been seriously hurt? Drummer, he was definitely down. Christ, he can’t be badly injured or worse, he has kids and an old lady back home. Red was on the ground, too, the big red-haired man who I’d only met briefly but who’d had a devilish twinkle in his eye. I’d seen him go down, his colouring unmistakable. That I had been the target was clear, I just hate that anyone else was hurt or worse in the process. Please let them be alright.
Demon. He must be beside himself. In my head he’s no longer D, the mix of present and past. Now it helps to think of him as the man with eyes blazing like a devil from hell, who’d stop at nothing to rescue me. To take me back where I belong. With my son and my husband.
There’s a couch, I sit on it, twisting the chain around my neck, fingering the locket which Demon had given me only a few hours ago. Fighting back tears.
Demon will come. I just have to stay strong.
Why am I here? Angelino wants Theo, not me. But who else could have wanted to kidnap me?
Will he use me as a bargaining chip? Me in exchange for Theo? It wouldn’t work. Demon would never put my son in danger. Would he? If he did, there’s no way I could ever forgive him. But what a choice to put on my new husband. Me or my son. If he’s forced to make a decision, it will destroy him. Sacrifice me, Demon.
To wound-up to sit for long, I stand and walk across the room. I peer out of the window, trying to get some clues as to where I could be, but empty desert stretches out in front of me. The walls of my room are solid wooden planks, like that of an old ranch. There’s a slight musty smell betraying its age. I eye the food again, not that I’m going to touch it, but taking it as a sign I’m not going to be mistreated. Or not yet.
Never one to be patient, I find the waiting, the knowing something will happen, that eventually someone will come, hangs heavy on me. I want to get on with whatever it is. Find out who’s taken me and what they expect to achieve by it.
I’m obviously at the back of the house and can’t see what’s happening out the front. But I hear the faint sounds of a car, and downstairs, loud voices. Moving toward the door, I put my ear against it.
“Questo è stupido. Quello che hai non ottiene niente. Era tutto finito anni fa, Angelino. Non puoi vendicarti di un uomo morto.”
I don’t recognise the voice, don’t understand the language, but do pick up on the name. Angelino. I was right. My worst nightmare is here. My rapist. The man who wants my son as his own.
It’s then I hear his voice, speaking in English, “Revenge is never over, old man. Debts have to be paid.”
The first voice again, “Non così. Non lo permetterò.”
“You won’t permit it?” Angelino’s voice again. The sound sends shivers down my spine.
The other speaker switches to English. “The alliances…”
“Are old. We don’t need them anymore. You’ve seen how easily we can corrupt their businesses. The don is a weak, old man, hanging onto the old days when a handshake was a man’s bond. The same goes for you. It’s time for you both to… retire.”
There’s silence. I’m trying to work out what I’m hearing. The Italian speaker seems upset with whatever situation this is, what I’m part of. I get a sense that he’s in danger from Angelino. Who is he?
I think I’ve gotten my answer when Angelino speaks again, “La tua giornata è finita, Sanna.”
Sanna? The last word was sneered, said sarcastically, as though it was a name. Who is he talking to? He’d mentioned the don being weak. Is Angelino making a play to become boss? The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I try to think back over what Demon had said, how bad a villain I’d been conned by. Does the underboss get an automatic promotion if he gets his father out of the way? The Angel of Death arguably would become one of the most powerful men in this part of Colorado. Or at least, where the underworld is concerned.
How the hell did I get involved in all this? Growing up, I was the normal child of a normal American family. I wasn’t even aware of the gangs walking the streets. Oh, I knew drugs were around, but none of my friends had done more than dabble in weed. It seems laughable I’ve gotten myself tied up in this. Why on earth did I answer that ad and jump at the chance of an interview? Where somehow I’d ended up raped, abandoned and pregnant.
My father would turn in his grave if he knew what I was mixed up in. My mother? Well, for the first time I believe that it’s best she knows nothing about it.
“I miei uomini sono ancora fedeli.”
I hear doors slamming and a car departing. Then it either returns, or a different one arrives. Voices are shouting. A sudden crash followed by gunshots has me throwing myself behind the only shelter in the room, a worn sofa. Then there’s an ominous silence. Has Angelino killed the man he’d been speaking to?
Am I an unwilling witness to a power struggle? And if so, which side won? For a moment I’m hopeful that Angelino was on the wrong side of the gun, but doubt I’d be that lucky. Staying in what my body seems to think is a safe place, though my head tells me nothing here meets that description, I stay crouched down, trying to interpret the sounds from below. Bangs, scrapes, and what sounds like something heavy being dragged. An ‘oomph’ of protest sounds. My mind conjures up all manner of things which are, from what I heard, not far from the truth. Bodies being moved. Is Angelino’s father one of them?
One thing’s for certain, it’s not a rescue by Demon’s men; I hear no Devils’ voices which gives me some relief; hopefully my man is alive. But all’s not well in the Mafia family, that’s clear.
When I hear footsteps on the stairs, I stay crouched down, hoping they’ll pass by my room. A snick of the lock and the door opens. I hunker down, trying to make myself invisible. Then two pairs of feet appear, one at either side of the couch. At least one pair of shoes appears to have fresh blood on them. One of the men has some kind of device in his hand, and he waves it toward me. One side of his mouth turns up, and he nods at the other in satisfaction.
The other stares at me, his eyes raking down my body, making my skin crawl. Then he issues an instruction.
“Take off your necklace.”
I glance up, my hand protectively covering the locket.
“Take it off,” the man repeats. “Or we’ll take it off for you.”
I’d have no chance against them. I need to save myself for a bigger battle. I’m going to lose a symbol that I’d like to cling onto, but it’s not worth being hurt or incapacitated for. Maybe they want it to prove to Demon they have me captive?
As the man starts to move a step closer to me, with shaking hands I reach behi
nd my neck, undo the clasp and pass it over.
The first man examines it, then nods. It appears to be all that they wanted. The door closes behind them and is relocked.
Cars come and go, but I’m left alone. Gradually light fades from the window. Since the argument and fight I’ve heard little more, just the murmur of voices and the odd sound letting me know I’ve not been left alone. I’m grateful Angelino hasn’t renewed our acquaintance; he can wait until hell freezes over as far as I’m concerned.
But what is he waiting for? Has he contacted Demon? Is he demanding my son? Does he realise I won’t be any part of that? That I’ll leave Theo where he is, not even the empty promise of being reunited would make me change my mind.
Will Angelino be coming?
Time passes. Not only does Angelino not come, but no one else checks on me either. I’d be content to stay in this room forgotten forever. Except for one thing. The demands of my bladder. I try crossing my legs, but know that’s not going to work, I’m becoming desperate. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long, but fear must have overridden my body’s needs. Now, though, it can no longer be denied.
Unwilling to draw attention to myself, I look around for a handy receptacle, but can see nothing, and, even scared as I am, the thought of using a corner of the room is disgusting. Pulling my stiff legs under me, I rise to my feet and approach the door. Banging on it feebly isn’t going to summon help, I realise quickly; the wood seems solid.
But I heard them. Maybe they’ll hear me.
“Is anyone there?” I call out, unsure how to summon a kidnapper to escort me to a bathroom. “I need help.”
It takes one more call before I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, then a key turning in the lock. I hold my breath, dreading to see Angelino, but it’s not him. It’s a man with a rifle slung over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Er, I need the bathroom.”
A resigned shrug, then he steps aside. With his hand on my arm he leads me down the short hallway and opens another door. I step inside and slide the bolt. It’s old-fashioned, but functional. One look out the window shows I’ve no chance of escape, but my business is too pressing to linger.
When I flush, a voice sounds, “Hurry up.”
Quickly I wash my hands, then open the bolt. Without a word I’m escorted back to the room I’d been in.
They forget me again. Darkness falls. My stomach growls, but I refuse to touch any food or drink.
I shouldn’t be here. This is my wedding night. I should be exploring, exploiting the new step we’ve taken in our relationship. Not here.
Demon will be climbing up the wall. The thought of how worried he’ll be doesn’t help me at all.
If only there was some way I could get out of here, but I haven’t a clue about how to pick a lock, my education in that subject had been lacking. Send a signal from the window? It won’t open, and there’s no one to see anything anyway.
Theo. Will he be wondering where I am, or happy that he’s being changed, fed and amused? That’s one worry I don’t have on my mind. His new grandmother, Mo, adores him, and Jayden has been a perfect find. Such a natural with children. Despite her youth, sometimes she seems more competent than me.
Though I presume this was a bedroom, there’s no bed, just the lumpy couch which has clearly been well-used. As the house fell silent some time ago, I try to make myself comfortable. I should be really tired, not having slept much last night. As I remember exactly what kept me from sleeping, I have to stifle a cry. It’s not fair. Just when Demon’s admitted his feelings for me, I’ve been stolen away. In the still and quiet darkness, I allow myself the horrific thought I might never see him again.
I need to remain positive. Can’t afford to think like that.
A sound disturbs me. Just a coyote howling, followed by a night owl. Is there anyone in the house at all? Have I been left here alone?
My throat feels parched. The room is stuffy and I’m feeling lightheaded. I need water. If there’s no one around, would it hurt to try what they left? My hands find the bottle and trace the lid. It appears sealed.
To escape I need my strength. I won’t eat, but… I twist the cap, feeling it catch as the seal breaks, and then take a sip, then another. Soon half the bottle is gone and I feel… fine. Slightly refreshed, I put the rest aside for the morning.
Dawn breaks. The room faces east, so I get a bird’s-eye view of the sun rising over the horizon. Not that I appreciate the beauty of it. This time yesterday, I was waking up with Demon, feeding and changing Theo with no inkling that my hopes and dreams were going to be taken away. With nothing to do, I sit by the window, staring out, noticing clouds starting to gather, the sun slipping behind them. I watch the first raindrops fall. Then hear the patter, then the heavy roar of a monsoon. Thunder rumbles, lightning flashes.
In the midst of the storm the door opens.
I jump, startled, the heaven’s drumroll having obscured the sound of the lock being opened. I fear Angelino, but it’s not him, it’s a woman instead. She walks in with a graceful movement, almost gliding into the room. She’s tall, elegant, but not that young, perhaps in her early to mid-forties. Though she’s kept herself in shape, there are age lines around her eyes, and silver streaks in her carefully coiffured hair. She immediately intimidates me, just with her haughty stare. But I’m the one being wronged here.
My dress, so carefully chosen twenty-four hours ago by Moira, has suffered from the length of time it’s been worn; now it’s decidedly crumpled and creased. While in itself it’s stylish, beside her I feel scruffy. But I force my back to straighten and stand as tall as I can. “Why are you holding me prisoner?”
“My name is Vitalia. I am Angelino’s wife.”
With that pronouncement I freeze. Then my temper blows up. “Your husband raped me!”
“Rape? I don’t believe force was involved. Or that’s not what the court said.”
As she refers to her husband getting off scot-free for what he had done, I take a step closer. “You don’t care if your husband plays away from home?”
“There are matters you don’t understand, piccolino Violet.”
There’s a damn lot I don’t understand.
“Well, why don’t you fill me in?”
For a few seconds I’m not sure she’s going to reply, then she gives an exaggerated Italian shrug as if it’s no matter to her whether I know or not.
“Angelino and I have remained childless, a sad situation as you can understand. To Italians, family is everything. He has no heir to groom, no one to follow him. Until now. Do you understand?”
He wants my son because he could have no children of his own. I place my hands on my hips. “He won’t get Theo.”
Her lips curve in a most unattractive way. A half-smile, a smirk, leaving an impression there’s something she knows that I don’t.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Demon
Christ, what a fucking mess. Bikes down, men injured. The truck that had mowed them down had done what it needed to and then zoomed off. Perfectly timed to separate me and Violet from our escort. Now she’s been abducted.
As I start running back to my bike, Hellfire comes limping up, Thunder beside him.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“After my wife!” I scream back, wasting time stating the obvious. “Angel fucking has her.”
“You’re right, he has. But you don’t know where, or how many men he has guarding her. You rushing off now will only get yourself dead.”
Thunder steps past Hell and yanks the key out of the ignition.
“What the fuck?”
“Hell’s right,” he growls. “All you’ll do is leave us without a prez. He won’t harm her, what good would that do him? I’d bet money that he’ll want to exchange her for the kid.”
Of course that’s why he’ll have taken her. But he could hurt her, torture her, send her back to us piece by piece until we give in and give up Theo. Which
would kill her anyway, so I could never do that.
“I have to get to her,” I cry out in desperation.
Drummer appears rubbing his fist. “We need to get back to the clubhouse. Get this mess off the street before we attract the cops. Get your prospects here with a fuckin’ crash truck. A couple of these bikes aren’t rideable.” His steel glare is icy. “Get your head out of your ass. Know you’re fuckin’ worried, Demon. I’d be the same in your place. But you can’t rush off all guns blazing, not until we know where she’s been taken and how well it’s guarded.”
Having the mother chapter prez shout in my face has brought me back to my senses. I’m a husband, but I’m also Prez. My fingers go to the bridge of my nose. “Injuries?”
“All minor.” Yeah, Drummer will have gone to the men first, while I hadn’t spared them a thought. “Think Snatcher might have hit his head a bit too hard, but he says he’s okay.”
Thunder’s already on his phone organising to get the stricken bikes back to the club.
“Anyone who can’t ride?”
Drummer shakes his head. “We’ll double up and get back. Get some talk going.” His eyes soften slightly, and his hand rests on the shoulder of my cut. “We’ll get your woman back, Demon.” Then his expression hardens again. “You have fifteen extra men at your back, and we’ll be here as long as we need to. But I don’t want to lose any, so we do this right.”
“I know where she is, Drummer. Or at least, I will when we get back. Gave her a necklace this morning. Cad put a tracker inside.”
“As long as she’s still wearing it.”
Now, that’s a doubt I don’t want put in my head.
Where we are is luckily not far from the clubhouse and the prospects appear as we’re still sorting out which bikes are still roadworthy. Scrapes and dents on most of them. Snatcher’s and Crash’s appear to have borne the brunt. Snatcher, trying to stem the blood from his head, is furious. Crash, having escaped with bruises, is red in the face.
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