Filthy Irish bastard.
Filthy Irish bastard.
I know that voice. That phrase.
The room spins as the bottom drops out of my stomach.
I hear those words one more time, slightly scratchy and echoey like they’re coming through on speaker phone. That filthy kitchen. Those iron bars. Dread swallows me whole.
There was a third man involved in my kidnapping. Lazaro. My own father’s underboss. He wanted to stop the wedding and therefore the peace treaty from going through between the Italians and the Irish.
Oh God.
I can’t breathe. My hands shake. I think I’m going to pass out, or throw up, or both.
Dario comes into the office, dragging Julianna in with him. He releases her and she crumples to the floor. That thud slams me back into the here and now. I suck in several deep breaths. Now isn’t the time to have a panic attack. Yes, my third captor’s still alive. But right now, he’s not my biggest problem.
Julianna. I crawl over to her, turning her over in my arms. She’s unconscious, her face swollen and bruised. Red finger marks riddle her upper arms. The split across her eyebrow freely bleeds.
Those bastards! I glare at Dario, who ignores me. He moves across the room to the liquor cart and pours himself a drink.
“Julianna?” I smooth her raven hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry.” I doubt she can hear me, but I need to say something to her. “We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” The lies taste like ash, but I refuse to take them back. We both need hope more than anything right now. Even false hope will do.
Dario collapses onto the couch, picks up a magazine and ignores us. He whistles a tune like this is just another Monday, a regular day at work.
I glance around the space, in an attempt to get my bearings. We’re in some kind of industrial building. The freezer is situated on the ground floor. Lazaro ushered me up a flight of stairs to an open walkway, then into this office where he called Maximo. The space holds a couch, a large wooden desk, and two walls of bookcases. A thick layer of dust coats every inch. The thin, stained carpeting smells musty.
One wall has a door. Does it lead to an adjoining office?
The minutes tick by on the clock behind the desk. Fifteen minutes… twenty. Julianna remains unconscious and worry eats away at my stomach. But I manage to compartmentalize enough to focus on only the here and now. A half hour has passed before her eyelashes flutter.
“Julianna?”
She groans and falls asleep. Guilt and anger vie for dominance as I hold her close. Poor girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Niccolò walks in, closing the door behind him. For an instant I’m transported back in time. Two huge men in masks torment me while I’m locked in a cage. Stale cigarettes, urine, and fear scent the air. All I can think about is being rescued. Someone has to come save me. Anyone,please.
But no one comes.
Jolted back to the present, I tremble and squeeze my eyes shut. Even though I’ve been taken captive again, I’m not that scared little girl any more.ThatElena died in that cage when no one came for her. But the experience taught me an invaluable lesson.
You have to save yourself.
Dario sets the magazine aside and glances down at Julianna as he speaks to his brother. “Why’d you have to fuck up her face? You know I like them pretty.”
“I like them bleeding. She’s perfect. Besides, that one’s not for you.” Niccolò points to me. “That one’s yours. Except for that little mark on her cheek, she’s untouched. Have fun, brother.”
I gag on the bile that rises up my throat. Holding Julianna closer, like a lifeline, I wrack my brain for a way out of this situation. I’m not a goddamn pawn. I refuse to let this happen to us.
Maximo’s walking into a trap. He doesn’t even know that I’m here, instead of where he’s heading right now. If he survives Lazaro, he’ll never make it to us in time. His sister’s already suffered so much.
“Papa’s going to be gone for a while. Let's get this party started.” Niccolò moves forward.
“Stay away from us!”
Both of them act like I didn’t speak.
Dario downs his drink. “I don’t really want to watch you fuck a corpse.”
