He swallows again and nods, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I stare at the SUV ahead, my jaw tight.
I'm not a politician right now. I'm not a strategist or a fixer. Hell, I'm not even acting like the mafia prince I was trained to be.
Right now, I'm a man watching the woman I... I care for being taken against her will.
I stop the thought before analyzing it, but the truth is there, raw and undeniable.
If Dimitri lays a hand on her, I won't just kill him.
I'll tear him apart.
The convoy turns off the main road, heading up a steep private drive lined with iron gates and high stone walls. The Bentley passes through an open gate, the SUV close behind.
I tap the driver's shoulder. "Pull over. Here."
He eases the taxi to the side of the road, stopping in the shadow of a cluster of trees. I can still see the gate at the top of the hill, the villa perched on the cliffside beyond it.
The driver turns in his seat, his face pale. "Signore, I think..."
I pull out another thick stack of bills and toss it onto the passenger seat.
"Stay here. If I'm not back in two hours, leave. Take my bag to the airport and leave it at the front desk under my name: Victor Ionescu. You got that?"
"Yes. Victor Ionescu."
I nod as I pull my silencer out of a side compartment in my bag, slip it into my pocket, and open the door.
He opens his mouth to protest, but I'm already shutting the door behind me.
I start up the hill on foot.
The hunt begins.
24
DANIKA
My shoulder slams into something hard, a doorframe maybe, and then I'm falling. The back of my head hits the edge of the leather seat, and white-hot pain explodes through me I bite down on the gag, tasting cotton and blood.
Hands shove me forward, forcing me face-down into the seat.
The door slams shut behind me, and after a few moments, an engine roars to life, and we start moving.
The hood over my head is suffocating. Every breath I take feels too shallow, too hot. The fabric clings to my nose with each inhale, and I have to force myself not to panic, not to thrash.
The car accelerates sharply, throwing me backward against the seat. I'm lying on my side now, my wrists bound behind me.
My mind is racing, cataloging information, trying to orient myself.
We're moving fast. The tires are against smooth pavement, so we're still in the city.
After some time, we turn, and the noise from the tires gets sharper. I feel the incline in the way my body slides slightly backward.
Where are they taking me?
I twist my wrists. They pulled it tight, and the edges of the plastic dig into my skin hard enough that I can already feel my fingers starting to tingle.
