While we ponder a way to find Aron, Gia suggests putting the twins to work closing the gaps in our security. I have a better idea, though.
The thieves.
It’s been my experience that those who are best at getting around security are the ones who know the best methods of securing a place. If I throw enough money at them, I’m sure the four thieves can get the mansion back to its former airtight surveillance.
Interestingly enough, all four returned from their previous missions intact. I paid them for delivering the envelopes as promised, but I hadn’t come up with another immediate use for them yet. This might be just the thing to keep them from getting too bored. Bored thieves tend to lead to missing items.
Unfortunately, none of the hitmen have returned yet—at least not intact. A few of their heads appeared on the front drive this morning, but some are still unaccounted for.
I don’t hold high hopes for their survival.
At least I didn’t waste any veteran Syndicate officers on that mission. This will just serve to weed out any weak links in the new blood. If anydoby some miracle survive, then maybe they’ll find Aron while they’re removing Javier’s head from his body.
I send a group text out to the remaining hitmen, offering to double their payout for information on the whereabouts of Aron, and quadruple for returning him safely to the Syndicate.
Two hundred million dollars should be a sufficient incentive to bring him home.
I just hope one of them manages to get to him and get him out alive.
Chapter 24
Aron
I groan and try to lift my head, get a sense of my surroundings, but my fucking skull feels like it weighs fifty pounds. Any movement brings stabbing pain to my temples, and my thoughts are sluggish.
Great. I’ve been drugged. But by whom? Last I remember, I was safely asleep with Matt. Nobody should have been able to get near me, let alone slip something in my food or drink. Hell, even a syringe is unlikely, because Matt would’ve woken up at the slightest sound in the room. I’ve seen him jerk out of a sound sleep for much less than the uncapping of a needle.
While I ponder the hows of my capture, I try to work free of my bonds. There’s enough rope around my arms to strangle an elephant, knotted several times, and my legs are similarly bound. The only thing keeping me and my fifty-pound skull up is the fact that I’m roped to a rigid steel chair, which seems to be bolted to the floor. I certainly can’t move it by shifting my weight or trying to scoot it closer to the only door I can see in the bare, steel-walled room.
That door opens a second later, and the light from beyondcreates enough shadows on my captor’s face that I can’t make out any details. I don’t need to, though.
I’d recognize Dad’s silhouette anywhere.
“Hello, son.”
“Yo, pops, wassup?” My words come out slurred, likely an aftereffect from the drugs. “Long time no see. Vi’lated anyone’s trust lately?”
“Speaking of violated …” Dad steps further into the room, and the single overhead bulb casts a pallid glow on his tan skin “I heard some disturbing things about the goings-on at the Syndicate since my—shall we say—departure.”
“Since you killed Tito.”
Dad waves a dismissive hand. “That’s a trifling matter compared to what’s happened to you, son.” He squats in front of me, bringing himself to eye level. “I hear that you’ve been sinning, Aron my boy. You’ve let that sick fuck Matteo sodomize you, corrupt you. Now, I can forgive you for that, but it’s going to take some work to get God to forgive you.”
I snort with laughter. “I thought God was the forgiving sort. What do I need to do, anyway? Fifty Hail Marys, maybe a hundred Our Fathers? Think that’ll square me up?”
The smack of Dad’s backhand to my face echoes in the bare room.
I spit a mouthful of blood in Dad’s face. “You’re right. That won’t work at all because I fully intend to go right back to Matt when I get out of here. You have to actually be repentant to repent, right?”
Dad sits back on his heels with a wicked grin plastered on his scarred face. “I know what will bring you back to God. I have something that’ll stop you from going back to the Syndicate. Keep you here, help me build my Empire. Father and son, the way it’s meant to be. My Empire will be a family business, with my son and granddaughter following in my footsteps.”
Rage burns through the remnants of the drug as Dad mentions Emily’s child.
“You fucking murdered your granddaughter,Dad, or did you forget that?”
Javier Martinez blinks blankly for a moment, then grins. “Oh, is that what he told you?”
“Matt didn’t need to tell me anything! I fucking watched it happen, Dad, watched my wife and unborn child get blown up byyourfucking bombs!”
