Page 141 of The Debt Collector


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“Ian will help,” I say firmly, catching his eye. Understanding immediately, he moves to gather plates and follows Alina inside.

Andrea reaches into his jacket pocket, extracting a cigar that he immediately lights. “I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is,” he comments, blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke as he settles back in his chair. “You’ve maintained it well.”

I say nothing, watching him through narrowed eyes. The casual way he’s making himself comfortable sets alarm bells ringing through my system.

“Colin,” I say, rising from my seat. “A word.”

We move a few yards away, still on the terrace but far enough that Andrea can’t easily overhear if we keep our voices down. I position myself so I can keep my dad in my peripheral vision at all times.

“I want the boat ready,” I murmur. “As soon as we’re done here, I’m taking Alina away from here until he’s gone.”

Colin nods. “Already got a handful of reservations at different hotels as a decoy,” he explains. “I assume you want to go to the emergency cottage so everything’s ready. Full security setup, stocked supplies. We can move within five minutes of your signal. We just need to get—”

“What?” I interrupt, already impatient to be back next to Alina.

He runs a hand down his face, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “The tablet’s still at the security house, boss. It’s the one with the override to the security in the main house, so we really should have it on us.”

“Fine,” I grunt, not happy he or Ian don’t already have it on them. But I get it. With Andrea suddenly showing up the way he did, things weren’t exactly smooth.

When he offers to go get it, I look over at where Andrea’s still sitting. He’s the picture of calm, even pouring himself more coffee. Ian’s with Alina, and I know he’ll die to protect her. Not that it’ll come to that.

“I’ll come with you,” I say.

“Are you sure?” Colin asks.

Nodding, I look at Andrea one more time. “Yeah, it’ll be quicker than switching places with Ian,” I rush out. “Besides, with Andrea there’s no way of knowing if he’s here alone or if fifty men lie in wait somewhere. Let’s just hurry.”

Together, we jog toward the smaller house.

When we’re almost halfway there, a deafening crack splits the air—unmistakably a gunshot—followed immediately by the sound that freezes my blood solid; Alina screaming.

Time slows to a crawl as I whip around toward the sound, horror flooding my system as I register two facts simultaneously. My wife’s terror or pain echoing from inside the house, and Andrea’s chair is… empty.

“Alina!” I roar.

Chapter 40

Alina

My scream dies in my throat as the gunshot echoes through the kitchen. Ian’s body crumples to the floor beside me, blood blooming across his chest like a macabre rose.

Before I can process what’s happening, Andrea lunges at me, his hand wrapping around my throat and slamming me against the cold wall with enough force to rattle my teeth.

The diamond choker around my neck bites into my skin, probably breaking it. My lungs burn instantly, desperate for air that can’t push past his iron grip.

His eyes—so much like Raffaele’s but colder, emptier—stare into mine as my vision begins to blur at the edges.

“Such a disappointment,” Andrea hisses, his face inches from mine. His breath smells of expensive cigars and coffee. “Did youreally think a peasant baker from Cleveland was worthy of my son?”

I claw at his hand, nails digging into his skin as black spots dance across my vision. My feet barely touch the ground, suspended by his grip. I kick wildly, connecting with his shin, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Stop struggling,” he says, loosening his hold just enough to let me suck in a desperate, painful breath. “It will only make things worse.”

I gasp, my throat burning as if I’ve swallowed broken glass. Ian lies motionless on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Dead or dying while I fight for my life.

“Why?” I choke out, the word barely audible.

He adjusts his grip, one hand still around my throat while the other pins my shoulder to the wall. My heart hammers so violently I’m sure it will burst from my chest.