My face darkened, cutting her off. “Check again,” I demanded, clenching and unclenching my fists. What the fuck was going on?
She did as I ordered, her face turning a sickly shade of fear, eyes brimming with tears as she shook her head.
“That’s fucking impossible. I left an unconscious, weak, vulnerable patient here an hour ago who was operated on in your theatre and you’re telling me there’s no record?” I snarled, catching the attention of several nurses and two doctors.
“Can I help, sir?” An older nurse approached me.
“My wife is fucking missing, and your useless nurse can’t do shit to find her,” the words fell out of my mouth without thought. “Where’s Dr. Takahashi?”
The woman shared a look with the first nurse, easy, confused before the older one addressed me again. “I’m sorry, sir but we don’t have a Dr. Takahashi on staff?”
“What?” My heart jack hammered, threatening to tear through my ribcage. “Get me your Chief?” I ordered, pulling out my phone and dialed my brother. When his phone went to voicemail, I called Dario. He answered on the second ring. “Ishika’s missing, and no one seems to know where the fuck she is,” I grunted. “One fucking hour, Dario, I went home just to wash off the blood and she’s gone.”
“Calm down, Remo, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” he coaxed. “Lorenzo’s on the chopper. He flew out as soon as Rogan called him about forty minutes ago.” The trip from Manhattan to Boston would take about hour which meant he’d be landing soon.
I cut the call and turned as a tall man approached. “Sir.” He offered a hand I ignored. “I’m Dr. Gafney, Chief of the hospital, I believe your wife is missing?”
Wife.
The title startled me and I uttered a sound I didn’t recognize. Perhaps half laughter or half anger. “How does a patient go missing in your hospital?”
“Sir, I assure you–”
“Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?” I growled, my mind unconsciously summoning that first image of Ishika hitting my men when they tried to take over her ER. Every distinguished dick in the US of fucking A knew the Rossi’s and their power. At his nod, I added, “You’ve got exactly five minutes to tell me what happened to Ishika Sharma, or I’ll shut this hospital down with a click of my fingers,” I warned, the pressure in my chest a denial trying to hold off something far worse.
I heard the gasps around me and glared at the man, eyeing the sheen of sweat on his brow and upper lip. He walked around to the two nurses and while they worked feverishly to give me an answer, Dario called back.
“Lorenzo’s on his way. He seems to think that this has nothing to do with the hospital but our enemies.”
That took me back to the shootout with Arturo and that fucked-up moment I decided to stay away from her and couldn’t. Now the stakes were higher. And nothing screamed leverage louder than a woman carrying my child. “Which fucking one?”
A tremor ran down my arm, unbridled rage, cold at first then spreading through my veins, eating away at the edges of my control. Someone took her. Who would dare to take her from a guarded hospital, who would risk touching my woman?
Then hit me.
“Ajay,” the name spewed out in a murderous growl. Of course he’d strike now, the second I appeared rattled, weak. “Get me eyes on him.”
“I’ll text you.”
I cut the call and glanced at the Chief. “It’s your lucky fucking day,” I growled before walking away.
I stormed out of Boston General, the automatic doors sliding shut behind me like a coffin lid. The night air was thick, suffocating, but I barely breathed it in. My phone buzzed in my hand with a message from Dario. The location. Ajay was at a private club downtown, apparently celebrating a deal that hadn’t even closed yet.
My phone buzzed again.
Dario: Wait for backup.
I didn’t wait. Slipping into the driver’s seat of the black truck, the tires screeched as I peeled out of the parking lot. The city blurred past, lights streaking across the window, but I saw nothing. My thoughts stuck on Ishika, on her bruised body, her beautiful face. Pale. Vulnerable. Carrying my child.
They thought they could take her from me. They thought they could erase her from a database, wipe her from a room, and I’d just sit back and wait. They didn’t know who the fuck they were dealing with. They didn’t know that I wasn’t just fighting for a woman anymore, I was fighting for the future I never thought I wanted until today.
The drive took twenty minutes. It felt like ten years.
I spotted his car outside the venue before I saw him. A sleek silver luxury sedan, pretentious and weak, just like its owner. I parked across the street, killing the engine before the car had fully stopped. The silence inside the cabin was deafening, broken only by the hammering of my own heart. Taking a deep breath until my hands steadied, I stepped out into the night. The tremble now replaced by a cold, crystalline focus. I crossed the street, ignoring the valet shouting at me, ignoring the dozer stepping in my path.
Ajay was standing near the entrance, lighting a cigarette, laughing with two of his men. He looked relaxed. Untouched. Unaware of the storm walking toward him. Perhaps he assumed he was safe in the public eye. Maybe because his family was Boston royalty. Billionaires with brains that birthed children with entitlement. Or maybe he thought the engagement ring on her finger would protect him against me.
Rakesh, Veer’s head of security and another dumbass itching to go a round or two with me, noticed me first. Then Ajay looked up and an instant shadow fell across his face, the cigarette dropped from his lips. The smile died, he eyes landing on my clenched fists and just as I neared him, he saw his death in my eyes.
