I stare down at my bound hands. I could snap the zip tie, but with Expensive Suit and two of his goons in the cabin, even if I do get free, there’s nowhere to go. We’re thirty-thousand feet in the air on a private plane owned by one of the biggest crime families in the country.
Once we land, I’m dead. It doesn’t matter if they make me suffer or end me with two bullets to the head—what they tried twenty years ago—I’m still dead.
“I should introduce myself, Nathan. My name is Lincoln DeLuca. Enzo DeLuca is my father.”
Well, that explains the thousand-dollar suit.
“Am I supposed to care? I shouldn’t finish the whiskey, but the assholes who beat me up and drugged me are torturing Raelynn right now, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Lincoln offers me a placid smile. “Twenty-two years ago, your grandfather ordered a hit on two of my father’s enforcers.”
“I haven’t seen my grandfather since I was ten!”
“Those two enforcers weren’t alone that day,” Lincoln says in that same, mild tone. But his hand shakes when he pours himself more whiskey. “They were driving my mother and four-year-old sister to a doctor’s appointment.”
Lincoln’s trapped in his memories now, staring into his glass like it holds the answers to life itself. “They died that day, Mr. Rossi. But it was not a quick or easy death. The driver, Ray, was killed on impact. Lou’s legs were crushed by the dashboard. He bled out, after a time. My mother broke her collarbone. It was only a minor injury, but the car landed on its side in a ravine and caught fire. She called my father when she knew she couldn’t escape the flames—or save her daughter. We had to listen to them scream as they burned to death.”
I never knew the details. Never asked my father why the DeLucas wanted to kill him.
“What happened to them was terrible,” I say, the words thick with the lump in my throat. “But what about my sister? And my mother? My dad was never a part of the Rossi family business. He sold real estate. Mom was a second grade teacher!”
Lincoln shrugs. “Retribution is a part of business, Nathan. My family lost everything. So yours will too. There’s no breaking the cycle, even if I wanted to. Your death will close a chapter that has been open for far too long.”
“And what about Raelynn? She’s not a part of this.”
“She is now. Her suffering is on you. It’s a shame, really. She was a beautiful woman. But she won’t die that way.”
“You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you—”
It’s Benny who punches me this time. My lip splits open again, and blood drips onto my t-shirt. “I’d like to see you try, Rossi.”
“It’s Grace, asshole.” Lincoln looks at me like I’m a complete idiot, until I add, “My name is Nash Grace.”
Raelynn
Twenty-three minutes since Ry called and I bricked my phone. I think. It’s getting hard to keep count. Ten minutes passed with Diego and Kellan arguing over whether they needed to find Kiki. But the cat’s too smart to let himself be caught. After twelve, Kellan tried again to take more of my ear, but I threw myself back against the sawhorse and he almost cut off his own nose.
That earned me a goddamn lecture. From two men who plan on carving me up into little pieces. Priceless.
At sixteen minutes, they brought in one of my dining room chairs and cut me free from the fucking sawhorse. But my arms were nothing but two dead weights. I only managed to kick Kellan in the nuts before Diego punched me so hard, the world went soft and dark long enough for them to tie me to the chair.
Kellan crosses his hands over his family jewels when Diego tells him to pick up the knife again. “She’s not going to talk, boss. Why can’t we kill her and get the fuck out of here?”
“Because I said so,” he snaps. “If she told anyone who Rossi really is—”
“I keep tellin’ you, sugar,” I say, infusing every word with as much Texas charm as I can muster, “I have no idea who you’re talkin’ about.”
Diego pulls out his pistol and presses the silencer just above the swelling in my knee. “Last chance, bitch. I don’t care if you die with your kneecaps or without.”
It doesn’t matter what I say. The truth won’t save me—or Nash. My only hope is to live long enough for Ryker to send in the cavalry.
“I might be rememberin’ somethin’. Put the gun away and maybe I’ll tell you.”
Diego gives me the side eye. “Without, then.”
“If you shoot me, fuck-stick, you’re gonna go back to Daddy DeLuca in a tiny box. With a bow on it for good measure.”
That gives him pause. My ear is still bleeding like a stuck pig, and I’m so dizzy, the room spins faster than a tornado. Where the hell is Ryker? Desperate for a way to keep myself alive, I scramble for some lie or half-truth I can offer him. And then a red light flashes once in my periphery.
