“Son,” my father said quietly, pressing his hand over mine. “We’ll get to her in time, I promise.”
He couldn't be sure of that. One thing I knew without a doubt: the end of Sailor’s life would be the end of mine.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sailor
Crouching in the closet, I sent one last text. Thank God for autocorrect, because my fingers were shaking so badly I couldn't type properly on such a tiny screen. I knew Matteo’s thugs would find me in there, but I wanted the chance to finish saying what needed to be said first.
Deep down, I knew I couldn't stop loving Noah. Despite what my brain kept telling me, my heart overrode all common sense. Maybe I was destined to be lonely and heartbroken for the rest of my life, wishing I could somehow change the past and make things right.
I couldn't deny he’d done horrible things, but neither could I put the blame solely on his shoulders, just as I couldn't blame my father for his cousin’s actions. It was wild to think I’d been born into the same world as Noah, when our morals ran in completely different directions.
The door opened abruptly, and I dropped my hands to look up into the mean eyes of a large, broad man.
“Come now, did you really think this was a good hiding spot?"
He grabbed my arm, hauled me to my feet, and pulled me to a standing position in front of him. Tears sprang to my eyes when he yanked my arms behind me and tied a rope tightly around them.
“I thought Matteo wanted me kept safe,” I said shakily.
He snorted. “Sure, go ahead and believe that.”
My stomach twisted into knots. I didn't want Noah to get hurt, but he’d said they were on their way. If that meant they were coming here, how could this end in anything but a shootout?
My father had been right all those years ago. Matteo was unwell and had no business being in charge of anything, much less a deadly mafia gang. He wanted murder and mayhem, while the other families had agreed on peace deals.
Another guy came into the room, and I recognized him as one of the men from the van. “They’re here.”
Who did he mean? Was it my rescuers or was it my crazy relative?
The one in front of me squatted to tie my ankles together, then threw me over his shoulder. “Get that gag for me.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said in a panic. “I’ll stay quiet.”
Ignoring me, the second guy tied a piece of cloth around my face, stuffing it into my mouth so that I tasted dusty fabric. I felt my throat trying to close up and took slow breaths through my nose.
Together, the three of us left the only sanctuary I’d had since this began earlier in the morning. Down a long hall, I bounced up and down, closing my eyes so I didn't get nauseous. We entered the garage, and the scent of exhaust overwhelmed my senses. Blinking, I saw that the cargo van was running and knew they were about to toss me in the back.
Once the door closed behind me, I tried to sit up and regain my bearings. The bindings at my feet proved to be a problem, and all I could manage was to rest on my hip. The garage door opened, and the two men up front glanced at each other.
When we pulled out, I realized there was another van parked in the driveway. We followed it down to the guard shack, andI thought maybe my cousin was in that one. After we left the compound, the lane stayed narrow for a little while. Craning my neck, I tried to look out the front windows in case there was a pertinent landmark.
And then my watch vibrated with the notification that it was disconnected from my phone. Nothing I could see or hear would help me anymore.
We reached the main road, and I spotted an SUV parked in the bushes. My heart rate increased, my palms becoming sweaty. Was that Noah? Was Benito with him? Were they in time to help, and could they even manage to stop the plans of a madman?
We sped up, and I lurched forward. The wheels bumped hard over something, and I let out a cry into the gag. Faster and faster, the engine whining the entire time, we headed to the place I feared was to become my grave.
“They’re closing in on us,” I heard one of the men say.
“So shoot them,” came the response over the radio. It sounded an awful lot like Matteo’s voice.
Gunfire erupted out of the passenger window, and my eyes watered at the noise. I tried very hard not to let the memories from the worst day of my life take over my consciousness, but it was almost impossible not to make comparisons. No one screamed except maybe me, and no holes opened up in the windshield. The driver was still alive, and his passenger was shooting at the vehicle following us.
It had to be Noah. He wouldn't let anyone else take on the responsibility of coming for me, that much I knew. My stomach was already in my throat, and then my heart tried to join it there. Overwhelming nausea crawled up to choke me, and I felt the sharp turn we took as I gave up and let myself topple over.
There was no return fire, and I worried that in their attempt to save me, the Costas would end up dying instead. Swearingloudly, the guy up front leaned out the window and let loose a rapid-fire barrage of bullets.
