Stolen Wife

by Carina Blake

  I buzz them on through because I’m ready to have them in and out of my house as quickly as possible.

  I wait just inside the door for them to come up the steps. A slender man in a cheap suit approaches with six other uniformed officers. “Mr. Santino Marchetti. I’m Detective Romo, and I have a warrant to search your premises for Ms. Giada Marchetti.”

  “On what grounds?” my attorney asks, stepping in front of me. Ah, he’s back to normal.

  “Who are you?” He narrows his eyes at Dimitri.

  “I’m his lawyer, Dimitri Stanislav.”

  The detective slaps the warrant in his hands. “Read it.”

  Dimitri does just that before he passes it to me. I skim through it and nearly laugh out loud. “Last known person to see Mrs. Marchetti after making lewd advances to her in front of several witnesses.”

  “Interesting. That’s not good enough. I wonder how much the judge is taking,” Dimitri adds.

  Detective Romo throws his hands up and shrugs. “That’s none of my business. I’m just doing my job.”

  I nod. “Okay. That’s fine. Then once this is over and you don’t locate her? Maybe you should ask them why they think she didn’t just run away?”

  “What makes you think she did?”

  “All I know is the woman I met looked malnourished, scared to meet my eyes, and my father spoke for her. If that doesn’t say captive, I don’t know what is. Maybe she ran away.”

  “You think it’s a ruse?” he questions, trying to read me.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that the second she was gone, they were calling me wondering where she was.”

  “That’s good to know. I already read a complaint that one of your father’s men had been on your property yesterday.”

  “Well, I told you they believe I took her just hours after I met her. It makes no sense, but I never pegged my brother to be smart.”

  Less than five minutes pass when three officers come down the stairs and then two come from the other direction.

  The only female in the bunch says, “Sir. We’ve searched this place from head to toe. There’s no sign of her and no female personal effects except for the chef’s belongings.”

  Looking sheepish, the detective says, “Very well. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “I hope to never see you again. I don’t trust any of you.”

  “I’m not your enemy, Mr. Marchetti.” Yeah, at this point, anyone who isn’t a trusted friend is my enemy.

  “Says the man that searched my house with a flimsy excuse for a warrant.”

  “It’s my job.” He tilts his head slightly, bidding goodbye before he walks out the door.

  Immediately my staff is gathered in front of me. I type on my phone and show my staff. Run the scanners now.

  Once my office has been cleared of any listening or recording devices, my lawyer and I enter it. “I had to prepare for this moment. They wasted no time. I don’t know what they think would happen. Even if she had been here, for all they know she could have ran away from that house. It’s legal for her to pick up and leave.”

  “But...”

  “They had her trapped,” I say, pouring a glass of scotch and bringing it to my lips. As I do, I get a motherfucking whiff and set it down. A second later, I run to my computer and bring up the security camera footage. Just what I thought. One of the officers searching distracted Martin long enough for another one to put something into the decanter.

  I step out of my office and holler to my staff to come downstairs immediately.

  I come back inside and Dimitri asks, “And she’s not here?”

  “No.”

  “That’s all I need to know. As for the other matter, are you ready to head to your office to go over the cameras from the office?” We left enough time to pass to see if any employees snuck into my office, knowing I wouldn’t be back until Monday.

  “They aren’t expecting me until Monday, that’s for sure.” Dimitri reaches for the glass I set down. “Don’t drink that.” I take the glass away from him and set it on the sideboard.

  My staff walks into my office sans Joey who I sent with Giada as her security although it should be me who’s protecting her. “What’s going on?" my lawyer asks.

  “I called you in here because someone is trying to kill me.” I wave my glass around. “My surveillance cameras point to one of the officers who was in here, but it’s also the fucker who came in this room with him. Don’t drink anything in this house before checking every single camera.”

  “Oh my God,” Rita exclaims.

  “Like I said, check every camera. From the smell, I’m betting the poison is cyanide. I’m going to toss it, but make sure you guys double sanitize everything. Go shopping for new food. Do whatever is needed to make sure this place is safe again. From now on, we won’t let anyone in here without triple security measures. I didn’t come this far to be taken out by my asshole family and their minions. Dimitri and I are going to be working in here for the next couple of hours.”

  “Before you get busy working, I found devices in your bedroom,” Martin says.

  I shake my head, thinking they truly had balls of brass to do that. “I knew they would. I wonder how many of these bastards work for Marchetti. What kind of devices?”

  “Both recording and visual.”

  Smiling, I say, “Very good. Cover the one and move the audio device to the television and put on something loud, preferably porn. Let’s give them something to enjoy.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” They leave us and start the cleaning process.

  “Let’s log into the system from here and run through it. Thankfully, the cameras only record when someone enters the room.” We take the seats in front of my desk, turning on my laptop to get things started. Once the application is opened, we press play.

  The camera turns on twice during the day where the receptionist drops off documents in my inbox. The next time it turns on, it’s about ten and the building should be empty, but it seems someone’s interested in my office. I watch as the receptionist comes back in and slips her hand under my desk, pressing something to the underside. We couldn’t make it out from that angle, but there’s no doubt she put something under there.

  “Is there a way to tell what she put in there without going in?” If it’s a listening device, that can easily be dealt with, but if it’s a mini explosive, that’s another matter. I’m going to have my friend meet us at my office with the necessary equipment to scan the room without getting close to my desk.

  He shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “Shit. Maybe we should make a run to the office with Jacobs.”

  “Okay. That works for me. Let me check the exterior cameras. I’m not feeling very trusting.”

  “Of course.” I pull up the security cameras to see if anyone is lingering or if they were fucking with my cameras. The officers came and went from the house without coming near the vehicles.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.” Thank fuck they didn’t mess with the cars. Maybe it was too obvious that there were cameras or because the buzz of cop cars drew the attention of my neighbors. Either way, we safely drove out to the office.

  On the way there, I call in some favors, doubling my security at home and the office. Shit. There’s no way I can let her come back into this mess. I want eyes and ears everywhere except our bedroom. There is just too much danger to bring my Giada home, but I miss her so much it’s fucking unexplainable. Having been what I have been through, I know life can change in a blink of an eye, but damn, she entered my world and I can’t go back to life without her in it, so I might have to speed up my plan for revenge.

  My phone rings as soon as we enter the parking garage, sending an ominous feeling into the pit of my stomach. It’s a number I don’t know, but I refuse to cower, so I answer. “Hello.”

  “Son, we need to talk.” I can’t believe he has the nerve to call me at all. Two years in prison, and I only saw him during the se
ntencing phase of the trial and once when he brought my mother in to see me.

  “Son? Since when has that been? I let you play along with that loving father act in front of my mother because I wanted to see her, but at this point we have shit to say to each other. Did you think I’d have the cops tear through my home at your behest and I wasn’t going to act like shit happened?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  I’m torn between laughing and snapping off. “It’s not like that? What kind of bullshit are you on?”

  “You’re the only one who could have gotten to her.” Oh, so he believes it’s still me that has her. Well, it’s not like they’re wrong, but I’ve left no trace of her being in the house.

  “Oh, really, because after two years in prison, I suddenly want to get to a woman I just met and kidnap her. How the fuck was I supposed to get to her?”

  “The window to her room or the front door.”

  “And how am I supposed to get into Rafael’s room to steal her?”

  “She’s in your old bedroom. You would have noticed that when you pulled up yesterday.”

  “If I’d been looking for that. Now quit fucking harassing me.”

  “Santino, the guards were in the middle of a break when it happened, but they also didn’t see anything on the cameras either.”

  “Again. What makes you think I had shit to do with it? I already explained it to Rafael, the cop that came here, and now you. I’m done with you. I have a motherfucking life to lead that doesn’t include you.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “I’ve thought about that for a long time. I love her and always will, but I learned to live without needing her. I’m going to miss her, but since you didn’t see fit to let her speak to me when I was locked up, what can I do?”

  “I want a meeting.”

  With a chuckle, I give him a, “Hell, no.”

  “I’ll kill her.”

  I do my best to control my rage because I know exactly who he’s referring to, but I don’t want him to know that he can get to me. He spent my entire childhood trying to break me, and I learned to keep him at bay. Now isn’t the time to crack. “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  “You’d kill your wife just because I won’t give you a chance to off me again? That’s not logical. Still, that’s wonderful that you said that because I’m having all my calls monitored at the moment. I hope you enjoy prison. Ha. Damn, it’s going to be nice.”

  “You are bluffing.” The fool let me hear the hint of panic in his voice.

  “We’ll see. Bye.” I hang up and look at Dimitri. “Did you get every word?”

  “I did. Now, let’s make the call.” We finally get out of the vehicle and as we start toward the entrance, shots ring out.

  “Duck,” I shout.

  We both fall to the ground and move out of the line of the shots. Each bullet echoes through the concrete parking garage, ricocheting off the beams. The sound rips through the air, and I’m growing more pissed by the second.

  I look over to Dimitri who’s against the exterior wall behind a parked SUV. “Are you hit?” I ask as I keep my head down.

  “They got me. I’m sorry.” I crawl over to him just as the bullets stop.

  “Son of a bitch.” He’s bleeding from the chest, and I’m praying that he pulls through but it looks pretty fucking rough. There’s blood everywhere. “Dimitri, talk to me.”

  “Here’s this.” He extends his arm a little, showing me his briefcase. “Please pass it along to my family. I’m so damn sorry.”

  “You have to hang in there.” He’s struggling to breathe, wheezing with every rise and fall of his chest. He must have been hit in the lungs. Shit. I call 911 and practically shout out the information. “I need an ambulance in the 3rd floor section B of the parking garage at Woodbridge Tower. Someone opened fire on my lawyer and me.” I’m shaking as I get the words out.

  It feels like forever as I press a shirt from my car to his wound. “Stay with me. Help is on the way.” He chokes up blood as I hear the sirens in the distance. I hope they can save him.

  Cautiously, I stand and wave the ambulance over to us. Reluctantly, I step aside to allow them to treat Dimitri.

  “Santino, whatever happens...you get your woman,” Dimitri groans out. He closes his eyes, and I pray it’s not the last time. So I’m not as slick as I thought I was. The medics move into action, quickly working on Dimitri.

  A notification beeps on my phone. Glad you got the message, Mr. Marchetti.

  Who the fuck is this? I type furiously back.

  A messenger.

  You’re a dead man. You fucked up now. I have to contact Dimitri’s family. He doesn’t have any in the States. The only family is his cousin in Russia. I don’t know anything about that, but I’ll be calling as soon as I can. I’m sure the answers are in his phone or briefcase.

  “Sir, you’re bleeding as well.”

  “It’s probably Dimitri’s blood,” I tell him without taking my eyes off the scene in front of me.

  “No, sir. It’s dripping down your arm.” I look down and see that I have a decent-sized tear in my suit and flesh. It didn’t go through the skin.

  “He’s more important.”

  “Still, they’re loading him. We’ll treat you on the way.” I jump in the back with both of our briefcases.

  I try to avoid listening to them talk as they work on him because I’m not ready to deal with the news that he died. The ride is short, thankfully. They rush him into the emergency room and drag me into a triage area to patch up my wound without the bumpy road.

  “Hello, Mr. Marchetti. Let me have you fill this out while we wait for the police to come.”

  “How’s my friend?” I’m not too damn concerned about myself, but it’s Dimitri who has me worried.

  “He’s in surgery. I can’t say what’s going to happen. Gunshot wounds aren’t always as clean as yours.”

  I wince from the slight pain of the syringe he injected in my arm. “What’s that?”

  “It’s an anesthetic for the stitches.”

  “Shit, you could have stitched me up without the extra pain,” I grumble.

  He laughs at me like it’s funny. “You say that until I’m halfway done.” He doesn’t bother to look up at me as he works on my arm. After a minute, he raises his head. “You’re all done. It should heal pretty nicely.” I’m surprised that he finished, and I didn’t feel a damn thing except the first prick of the needle.

  He tosses his gloves out and then washes his hands in the sink. “I’ve prescribed an antibiotic for you. Take the full dosage even if you feel well.” He then goes to the computer and makes notes in my file.

  “Why? Is it infected?” I look down at my arm like I’d know the real difference. Frankly, it just looks like a large cut.

  “No, but it could be. Trust me; you don’t want one to seep in.”

  “Thanks.” He’s got a point. I don’t want anything, or anyone, in the way when I go to claim Giada.

  “Take care, Mr. Marchetti. The nurse will be in here with your discharge papers and prescriptions.”

  “Thanks again.” We shake hands and he leaves the room. I hop off the more comfortable version of a prison mattress and adjust my clothes. Both my shirt and jacket are ruined, so I slip my undershirt back on and toss my dress shirt over my shoulder, giving no fucks if anyone has a problem with it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Santino

  After being discharged, I meet Martin out in the lobby. He’s brought me a new change of clothes. “Thanks,” I say as we both walk into the bathroom, so I slip on a clean shirt. When I switch them, Martin steals a look at bandage, examining it.

  “Damn, Santino, you’re lucky. How’s Dimitri?”

  Shaking my head, I sigh. “I don’t know. Fuck, I have to call his family. Do you have their information or anything?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Damn.” I slip on the dress shirt and straighten up
before we head back to the lobby and take a seat. As they released me, they told me that I might feel weak and I should rest. I didn’t believe them until right now.

  “I need you to go back to the house and secure it.”

  He nods and stands. “I will.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” I stand and give him a one-armed hug.

  “Take it easy. Let me know if you need anything.”

  For the next three hours, I wait outside the ER for news on Dimitri. Searching through the briefcase he gave me, I see his cousin’s number on a paper, so I leave a message for him to call me in the morning. It’s only two in the morning there.

  I’d just put everything back inside the briefcase when the surgical nurse finally comes out to tell me that he’s made it through surgery, but the battle is an uphill one. I call in my team who helped me with Giada and have them bring in their own security for him. One by one, everyone but me leaves. My life feels like it did before, completely out of control.

  I’ve already been questioned by cops and a Detective Morel who’s been assigned to Dimitri’s case, giving the complete rundown of what happened over the past twenty-four hours. It’s already six at night when I see all of them return with the detective who had been at my house this morning.

  As soon as he’s a foot away, I punch him dead in the face. I’m surrounded by cops who grab my arms behind my back. “You work for my father. You tried to have me killed, you piece of shit, and I have the fucking proof.”

  “I didn’t do shit, but officers, release him. Let him show me the supposed proof,” he orders, rubbing his jaw. The cops release me, and I pull up footage from my cameras on my phone. It’s been already cued up for this purpose. I play it for them, and they see the cop drop the cyanide tablets into the decanter. “Who the hell is that?” he asks one of the officers who also had been in the house.

  I watch their reactions. Either they are incredible liars, or they really have no idea who this guy is. “I don’t know, sir. He’s not one of our regulars. When he pulled up, he told me he came for backup per the judge.”