Only her safety.
Which I might jeopardize because of how fucking pissed off I am.
“This is it,” Renzo says.
I’m out of the car, a fully loaded firearm in each hand, before the vehicle comes to a complete stop. Renzo and my other guard, Carlo curse, but I’m already striding toward the building, not even bothering to shut the car door. My men jog to catch up to me and flank me once we’re inside.
“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask.
Renzo nods and then glances at the stairwell. “There are three floors.”
“We can cover ground faster if we split up,” I say. “Renzo, take this one and I’ll take the second. Carlo, you’ve got the third. When you locate my fiancée, notify me immediately. If someone is there with her, make sure she’s safe before you get trigger happy because if anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.”
My men dip their heads in acknowledgment and then I mentally dismiss them. Carina is the only thing that matters.
I enter the stairwell with my weapons raised and my gaze sharp. After ascertaining there isn’t a threat lurking nearby, I quickly climb the stairs and once I reach the second floor, I holster one of my Glocks. The door’s rusted hinges emit a screech when I swing it open. The empty hallway stretches before me and as I take a step forward, tiny sparkles catch my eye.
Carina’s purse.
The imaginary vise on my chest tightens at seeing the object on the floor with the contents half spilling out. There is a possibility she dropped it and was in too much of a hurry to retrieve it. Or Carina may not have noticed she left it behind. Neither of those options sit well with me. If anything, it could be evidence of a struggle that took place not too recently.
For the first time in years, I pray. Not only for her to still be here, but for her to be alive.
I walk up to each door and lean toward it to listen for any indication that Carina could be inside. With each silent apartment I come across, my dread grows.
Where in the fuck is she?
The shout of a man has me racing down the hallway. I bypass all the other doors until I locate where the noise is coming from and then I tilt my head in order to hear better. The voices inside are definitely male and without knowing how many are present, I could be vastly outnumbered, which could prove problematic, to say the least.
I send out the emergency text to my men and then push the doorbell. Whoever’s inside has nowhere to go since the window doesn’t lead to a fire escape, which means I’ve put myself at a disadvantage by taking away the element of surprise. But I had to in order to give my men time to get here.
I take my other weapon in hand and silently vow that if Carina’s in there, I’ll fucking kill everyone.
Then there’s another noise, something else…a high-pitched sound.
It’s eerie laughter that causes a chill to sweep over me. And it’s definitely coming from a woman, but it’s wrong in a way that speaks of mental disorders or instability. I almost hope that’s not Carina.
“Get her to shut up before someone hears that shit.” A male voice rises in volume and a loud crack sounds just before the laughter abruptly halts.
I decide his death belongs to me, whether Carina is in there or not.
The door opens half a foot and the man behind it glares at me. “What the hell do you want?”
“Just a quick chat, my friend.” I smile at him as though we are comrades and it disarms him briefly because his brows snap together in confusion. “Cosa Nostra, amico.”
The man lifts his foot to take a step back and I rush him, using his unstable position to throw him off balance. The door slams into his chest, causing him to stagger, and I peer around the door to assess what’s inside.
Carina lies motionless on a mattress.
That’s all I need to see, all I can see as a black rage covers me like a widow’s veil.
I shoot the man standing beside the bed, three rapid fires straight to his chest. Because if she’s alive, I want any threat closest to her eliminated. The one who was knocked back by the impact of the door is the next to take bullets into his body, and blood spreads outward in bright red circles, quickly soaking his shirt.
There’s no time to take satisfaction in either of their deaths, not when I don’t know Carina’s status. I head in her direction and within two steps I’m able to discern the red streaks from the purple of her gown. My insides twist and my pulse thunders in my ears until I think I’ll go deaf.
A gun being cocked, that very distinct sound, has me coming to a halt.
Only it’s not pointed at me.
