I roll over and reach out a hand, finding the bed empty beside me. I sit up, keeping the sheet clutched against my chest. I frown as I glance around because the apartment is too silent. Even when he was sleeping in the other room, there was always a sense of his presence.
“Mateo?” I call out, though part of me knows he’s not going to reply.
I clamber out of bed, the sheet trailing behind me. I find a plate with a boiled egg and two slices of toast on the kitchen counter. There’s a note next to it. As I read it, my heart clenches so hard I’m almost sure I’m having palpitations.
I’m going to sort this thing out. It’s going to end now. I promise I’m coming back to you. Eat your breakfast. The baby needs it. I love you. M.
I choke on a sob and clutch my hand to my mouth.
He can’t go! He can’t do this!
Dropping the sheet, I dash back to the bedroom, scrabbling in the closet to pull out something to wear. Insanely, for some reason, half of me feels guilty for not eating breakfast as he’d instructed. But there’s no way I could face food right now – although it’s been a while since I felt the nagging nausea that I now realize was morning sickness.
Finally dressed, I hop back toward the entrance of the apartment as I tug a sneaker on while trying to keep moving, I yank open the front door.
“Morning, Miss Andy,” Mikey says. I blink up at him. He and Pete are standing sentry on either side of the door, huge arms crossed over their massive chests.
“I…I have to go out!” I blurt. Mikey shakes his head.
“Sorry, Miss. That won’t be possible.”
“But you don’t understand!” I half-shout. He shakes his head.
“Mr. Ricci said you can’t leave.”
I shove his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. However, his expression seems to show genuine regret.
“You can’t keep me here!” Iamshouting now. Because he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this!
“Mr. Ricci said you’re to stay until he sends word. After that, you’ll be free to go wherever you want.”
I stare up at him, speechless.
Free to go? What does he mean by “free to go”?
Chapter 15
Mateo Ricci
“You all set?” Raoul asks as I clamber into the backseat of the Range Rover beside him. Black and chrome and gleaming, I wonder if the windows are bulletproof like the Karlmann.
“I’m good.” I nod. He grins at me.
“Wish you had Dario’s Batmobile again today?”
“We won’t need it,” I say firmly. I pray I’m right. But we’re going in with more than just the cavalry today. Which is why we’re not simply leaping into a chopper and crashing fucking Whitlock’s party on our own.
“I got us tooled up.” Raoul jerks his head to the back of the vehicle. When I look over my shoulder, the entire trunk is packed with tactical crates; sturdy black boxes I know are filled with guns and ammo.
“Jesus. You planning a coup someplace when we’re done with the fucker?”
“Nah. I just like guns.”
“A lot, it seems. Let’s hope we don’t get pulled over anywhere along the way.”
“If we do, we’ll just tell them we’re meeting your buddy, Reed.” Raoul raises a hand, and the driver’s eyes flicker in the rearview mirror. The car pulls off smoothly. I glance into the side mirror and see three more vehicles sliding onto the road behind us. We’re taking a small army. Not a chance he’s getting away again.
“So, this guy Reed heard from…you say he’s a plastic surgeon?” Raoul shakes his head. “What the fuck’s that about?”
