“Wait!” she screeches. “Go back to the previous picture.”
I swipe left, and my breath catches in my throat as I stare at the familiar face. “Him,” she says. “That’s the man who told me to do it.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” I ask as Leo returns to the room.
“One hundred percent. That’s him. That’s the man who tried to kill Sierra.”
49
BEN
Isip my bourbon, looking at my watch for the umpteenth time since the plane took off, wondering why the flight from New York to Chicago feels like it’s taking forever instead of the usual two hours. My foot taps anxiously on the floor, and I’m strung as tight as a cello.
I spoke to Sierra before we boarded the plane to reassure myself she and Rowan were okay. I wanted to tell her my discovery, but I don’t want to freak her out either. Leo spoke with Ian and Alessandro, so they know to be on their guard. I’m probably overreacting, but this has shaken me to my core.
“If you are right, this changes everything,” Leo says, propping his elbows on the table.
“I know, but it’s the most logical conclusion. I can’t believe he’s been under our nose this entire time.” I bark out a laugh. “You’ve got to hand it to him. It’s a stroke of genius.” I don’t have all the missing pieces, and I know the other four dons are a little skeptical of my reasoning, but they didn’t stop me from confronting Lawson.
“Why the fuck would he try to kidnap or kill his own daughter?” Leo asks.
“I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” Fury simmers underneath my skin, and I can’t fathom how I’m supposed to tell Sierra this. There is little love lost between them, but he is still her father. This will devastate her.
If my assumptions are correct, I can’t kill Lawson despite how much my hands long to feel his blood coating my skin. Accardi made me promise not to touch him, and this is one tradition I can’t ignore.
For now.
At last, the pilot tells us to buckle up for landing, and I finish my drink, mapping out how to play this in my head.
However, I didn’t factor on a welcoming committee waiting for us on the tarmac.
“How the hell did he know we were coming?” Leo hisses in my ear as we step out of the plane right into an ambush. Three blacked-out SUVs are idling before us, and twelve armed men point guns at our chests.
“We have a mole,” I murmur, and the realization does not reassure me. My thoughts instantly flicker to Sierra and Rowan, and I’m regretting not going home first and moving them someplace. I have a real bad feeling about this now.
“Mr. Mazzone.” A surly guy with a shaved head and a mean expression steps toward me. “You’re to come with me.”
“On whose authority?” I ask.
“Mr. Lawson’s,” he replies, prodding me in the chest with his gun. “I will need all your weapons.” He jerks his head sideways. “Same goes for your men.”
I nod at my guys, letting them know it’s okay to relinquish their weapons. We can’t exactly have a shootout on the airfield with cameras around, and we are outnumbered two to one. Besides, Lawson clearly has an agenda, and he won’t risk that by killing my men and enraging me.
I follow Brutus to a sleek black Mercedes waiting behind the last SUV. He opens the back door, and I slide into the seat where my soon-to-be father-in-law is waiting for me. Gifoli is in the passenger seat, and he turns around, palming the gun on his hip. “Don’t try anything, Mazzone. I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull. Unlike the armored glass, the privacy screen isn’t bulletproof.” I guess The Outfit’s regard for traditions has truly flown out the window. He holds out his hand. “Cell phone.”
Removing my cell from my inside jacket pocket, I hand it over without argument.
Lawson clicks his fingers, and the privacy screen whirs into place as the driver reverses the car. Outside, my men are being herded into the three different SUVs. He turns to me, pinning me with hazel eyes that are more green today, reminding me of my beloved. “Bennett. How good of you to come to me. Saved me any more theatrics.”
I wet my lips, schooling my face into a neutral line. “Theatrics do run in your family, Lawson, and I’m not talking about my fiancée.” I shove my hands between my thighs to avoid the almost insurmountable urge to strangle the bastard beside me. “Or should I call you DeLuca now?”
He slowly claps his hands, grinning, and I want to slam his head against the window repeatedly until his brain leaks from his skull. “It’s about time, Bennett. It took you long enough to figure it out. What gave me away in the end?”
“We caught up with Lucille, and she identified you. I pieced the rest together myself.”
“I knew I should have shot that bitch after I fucked her.”
“How long have you been colluding with the Russians?”
