Dad leans on his desk, sipping his drink. "Why? I'm not about to rescue a Mancini. She might need someone there physically, but Lyndall?"
I stare at him like he just grew another head. "What the fuck are you on about? Lyndall?—"
He offers a tight smile. "Is what? In trouble?"
"Yes."
His tone is deadly. "Any hair on her head is so much as mussed..."
He might have me beaten, that's the implication. But I can almost hear the wheels turning as he plots, and I, for one, want to punch him.
"We're wasting time."
"You might be. Then again, you're good at that, aren't you, Enzo? Wasting time rebelling instead of coming into the fold like you're destined to. You should be learning the ropes so you can take over one day." He sets his glass down.
I grit my teeth.
"Thing is, when you get to be in my position, have my power, you can even take on your Uncle Gino. Why, Enzo, you can fucking sit back, smoke a cigar, and drink a fine drop even when your only daughter's been taken."
"You sick fuck," I push out.
"Watch your tongue, or you'll find yourself without one." He straightens his tie. "When you get to be head of the Marino family, you don't have to step foot out there. No one's going to touch Lyndall."
"You don't know that, Dad." I force myself to stay where I am. Because in this, I do need his clout.
And Lyndall, for all we know, is his. He's brought her up. If there's a slip in the DNA, he doesn't know.
Not for sure.
Or...it's never crossed his mind, and I intend to keep that to myself.
And it's not just Lyndall.
It's Lola, too.
"I'm worried about both."
Dad spreads his hands. "I'm not."
I know I have to play it smart, but something snaps, and I mentally hold on to both ends, even as sparks fill me. "What if Lola's worth something?" Before he can counter that with more bullshit, I continue. "To whoever took her. I have some information, but...this man might use Lyndall as a bargaining chip. Extortion."
My father shakes his head. "They'll know who I am."
"And what's to stop them from making this worth their while? Knowing your reputation could work against you."
That stops him.
That he gets.
The idea that his kid might be used to negotiate over some protracted time period could lead to accidents. Like Lyndall being harmed.
"Who, Enzo?"
With an inner sigh, I brush him aside, go to his computer, and bring up some stuff I have in an encrypted email on Dom Rebecci. It's basic enough for this, but enough of the bad shit to show Dad.
"I've heard of that fuck." Dad picks his phone up from the desk and starts making calls as I wait.
It burns, the waiting. It goes against every instinct I have.
