Fabio’s guards were covering the outside of the building and the exits. All felt secure. I would be glad to go back to Canada because I hated the stench in this place. Isla and thebaby deserved to live in better conditions. Not saying they were better than anyone else. Nobody should live in this dump, but I understood how expensive it was to live in California.
Shouting came from Elsie’s apartment. Every goddamn night those two argued. I tried to ignore it, but I’d dialed into an unfamiliar voice. It had to belong to one of the men Roy had let into his place. What was that accent?
My phone rang in my pocket, distracting me from the shouting. Probably Ciro. I removed my device and saw Fabio’s name.
“This is Paolo,” I answered.
“What the fuck is happening there?” Fabio asked, sounding furious.
“What do you mean?”
“Nathan’s sensor says he’s dead!” Fabio was a lot more hi-tech than Ciro. All his men wore vests with sensors imbedded in them that measured things like heart rates.
I whipped my head toward the exit. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“I’m on my way. But my other guys’ heart rates are through the roof. Are you sure there isn’t fighting going on?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, Roy’s door opened and the two men ran out, heading for the exit. One yelled to the other. I recognized the accent now. They were Russians.
“Russians!” I shouted and chased after them.
“Fuck!” Fabio barked orders to his people. “We’re fifteen minutes out.”
40
CIRO
Fuckingtraffic kept slowing me down. In LA, I’d gotten stuck in rush hour. Then at the airport, my jet had mechanical problems.
Dark forces seemed to be working against me as I tried to get to Isla and my daughter.
“What’s the hold up?” I slammed my hand onto the steering wheel of the rental car. All hell was breaking loose at Isla’s place, and I was close to losing it.
When I couldn’t get ahold of Paolo, I called Fabio. What I heard in the background was madness. Several Russians had tried to overtake Fabio’s guards, killing two of them, and badly injuring Paolo.
“Let’s go!” I yelled.
What were the Russians doing at Isla’s? Were they working with Cara? Fabio couldn’t talk with all the chaos. I knew nothing about Isla and Pippa. I was in the dark. I hated being in the dark…
Finally, after breaking several traffic laws, I arrived at the apartment complex. Blue lights were flashing. It looked likethe whole fucking police department had the place surrounded.
Jesus Christ, I felt sick to my stomach. I spotted Isla’s crappy car parked in her assigned spot and swallowed thickly as I got out of the rental car.
As I approached her door, yellow tape was over it. My heart stopped.
Overcome with dread, I approached the building. A black tarp covered what I assumed was a dead body.
“Ciro, over here.”
I turned toward Fabio’s voice. He jogged over and grabbed my arm, tugging me away from the building.
“Where’s Isla and my baby?” Nothing mattered to me more than my girls.
“You got here faster than I expected.”
I whirled around and stalked toward the building. If he wasn’t going to give me, and answer, I’d get it myself.
