“Remo—” he started, hands coming up, palms out.
I didn’t let him finish, not interested in his lies and excuses. All I needed was for him to feel a fraction of the terror I’d felt when I saw that empty bed.
My fist collided with his jaw, blood spurting from his mouth as a smidge of pain slithered through my arm yet I felt nothing. Dazed from the blow, he staggered back, crashing into the wall behind him.
A hand gripped my arm to stop me, but all Rakesh saw was my elbow crashing into his throat and he went down to. Rage pulsing through my veins, I lunged forward, my fist slamming into Ajay’s face repeatedly until his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor with a loud groan.
“Where the fuck is she?” I demanded, adrenaline pumping through me, my clenched fists ready to tear him to pieces.
Breathing hard, he wiped the blood from his face and looked up. Only then did I notice the pretense in his eyes. He wanted me to hit him, to hurt him while trying to mask the fear I might kill him. This was a game for him or a test by his father. Ignoring the squeal of tires behind me, I gripped his shirt and pulled back my fist to strike once more.
“What the hell are you doing, Remo?”
I glanced over my shoulder as Veer neared me, his ten or so men hurrying out of their vehicles to surround him. As if that would stop me. I released Ajay’s shirt, straightening just as Rogan’s truck skidded into the parking lot. He jumped out weapons raised with a couple of our soldiers.
“Your son-in-law took something that doesn’t belong to him, and I want her back,” I snarled, reaching for my gun with a speed that had the older man’s head jerking back. “Where the fuck is she?”
I glared at him, the muzzle inches from his eye, our men caught in a standoff that was likely to end in a bloodbath of clusterfuck proportions. I didn’t fucking care. Held by a sliver of restraint, my head, heart and hands were chomping at the bit to tear this fucker to pieces.
His features, just as impassive as mine, his gaze shifted between the gun and my face. “I’d watch your tone, boy. You will speak to me?—”
“Do I look like a fucking boy to you?” I gritted. “Don’t mistake me for my brother, old man.” I stepped closer, my teeth bared. “Because for every word he’d use, I’d put a bullet in you and think nothing of it. Your men will do shit to save you. I’m the last fucking man you want to cross?—”
“Remo!” Lorenzo barked from somewhere behind me. A second more and he was at my side. “Stop this shit right now.” He grasped my arm.
I yanked it free, not breaking eye contact with Veer. “This fucker took her, Renz and I aim to shoot the location out of him.”
“Put a leash on your brother, Lorenzo, this isn’t the respect you’re known for,” Veer spat.
“This is Rossi territory,” Lorenzo fired back. “So watch your fucking tone when you address me.”
The older man tried to hide his surprise, but I caught the flare of his eyes before he smirked at me.
“You have ten seconds, fucker,” I growled, ready to splatter his brains all over the parking lot. Lorenzo cursed, pushing himself between my gun and Veer. I didn’t lower it. “Out of the fucking way, Renz.”
“Put your gun away,Fratello.” Despite the command, his eyes softened, telling me he understood my pain I wanted no one to know about.
I scowled at him, tension threading the air around us. Any one of these unstable fuckers could let a bullet fly, bringing chaos with it. Lorenzo might be a merciless don, but he valued family and we both knew that me going toe to toe with the Indian mafia, circumstances unknown, was putting families at risk.
“Fine,” I sneered a minute later. “Just know I’ll burn your entire fucking empire down to find her and nothing will stopme.” I shot Veer a warning glare. The fucker merely grinned, irking me to rethink my decision.
Lorenzo walked me toward our vehicles; all parked haphazardly with the doors open and the engines running. Climbing in, I glanced over my shoulder. Veer watched us, his face red with rage with Ajay blabbing in his ear.
As the car pulled away, a familiar ache pulsed behind my eyes, the same one that came before the dreams. The ones where I was young, and the woman I called mother watched while hands that weren’t hers, hurt me. I shook it off, pressing the heel of my palm to my temple. Now wasn’t the time. Ishika was missing. Pregnant. And I would tear this city apart brick by brick until I found her.
Lorenzo hadn’t asked about the hospital, or why I nearly put a bullet in Ajay’s skull. He just brought me home, poured me a drink, and waited. I figured Dario might’ve filled him in, but he was waiting for me to share, that’s what he always did.
I stared at the sketch I’d worked on for the last hour. Those eyes, as if magnetized, drew me to them every time I stopped to stare. They weren’t perfect, they were hers. Sharp, defiant, intelligent. A whole minute passed before I looked up at my brother.
Arms folded across his chest, he was leaning against the wall, studying me with that same controlled caring I’d known for years. For once I wished for his unerring patience.
“Secrets have a way of either killing you or choking the fuck out of you, Remo, and sometimes it helps to let them out. You want to tell me about it?”
I traced the curve of the jaw on the paper, my thumb smudging the charcoal. “She’s pregnant.” The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
Lorenzo’s posture shifted, the casual lean vanishing as he pushed off the wall. He came around the couch to sit opposite me, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. “Are you sure?”
“The hospital confirmed it before she disappeared.” I set the sketch down, the paper fragile under my fingers. “Ajay thinks he can take her from me, thinks he can hide her.”
