“Don’t be a brat,” Ryan says, his brows pulled low. “We have some news about your father.”
I stick my tongue out at him. He’s not my dad, I’ll be a brat if I want. When that prominent vein in his forehead starts pulsing, I wisely decide not to push him. Pulling myself up into a sitting position, I scrub my hands over my face.
“Okay, hit me.”
“Wow, Dutch, didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”
“It’s too early for jokes, Jase. Come on, spit it out so I can go back to bed.”
Instead of replying, Jase turns his laptop around so it’s facing me. A news report comes on, and I swallow back bile as my father’s face fills the screen. He’s standing on stairs, a podium before him, the American flag flying behind him. It’s very patriotic-looking.
“Good morning citizens of New York. Many of you know me as a philanthropist and businessman. But I come to you today as a father. My daughter, Daniella Gianelli, went missing around nine months ago.
“She was spotted in London recently and my brothers and I were at first excited at this sighting of her, hoping she would quickly be reunited with us. Unfortunately, it appears the people she was with are criminals and killers, and with no further sightings, we fear the worst.
“Please, if you are holding my daughter hostage, let her go. Her family loves and misses her. Our lives hold no more hope, no more light without her by our side. We have reason to believe she may be in the city, and so I ask you, fellow citizens, to please keep an eye out for her.
“I beg you, if you have any information, please call the number at the top of your screen. A one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward will be paid to anyone who can provide information that directly leads to the safe return of my daughter.” Vincenzo wipes a few tears from his eyes, always the consummate actor.
Jase closes the laptop, and Ryan turns to me. “You know what this means, right? The whole city will now be looking for you. No more boys’ nights out, and no more taking your bike for a ride.”
Anger lashes through me. He doesn’t understand, I need my bike rides. It’s the only thing that frees the emotions I bury so that I don’t lash out at other people. It’s my lifeline, my freedom. I can’t be a prisoner, even if this “prison” is beyond luxurious. My knee starts bouncing and my hands form into fists. I can’t do this.
Ryan must sense my panic because he places a hand on mine. “I’m sorry, I know it isn’t fair. But this is the only place you’ll be safe until we’re ready to make a move on him.”
I nod, a sheen of tears blurring my eyes. When I say nothing else, Jase and Ryan quietly take their leave, closing the door behind them.
Chapter 26
Dutch
Two Weeks Later
Ican’tjustsitaround here. One more day of waiting for news, one more day of sitting around doing nothing is going to drive me crazy. I’m not the type to sit around twiddling my thumbs.
I’ve been to the gym for hours every day, beating the shit out of everything I can. I’ve trained with everyone willing to, I’ve held shooting competitions, and been for more massages than I ever have in my life. I even—gasp—got a mani-pedi.
Kian and Jase have taken pity on me, arranging boys’ nights out—upstairs in their communal area. We’ve played poker, pool, and darts, drank copious amounts of alcohol and had a mini rave we invited all the others to.
I even learned how to cook a few dishes. Me, cook. I know. It’s fucking laughable.
And I’ve spent hours in the conference room going over every scrap of intel that comes in.
Zach and The Duke have been working hard to get their teams integrated into various positions at Vincenzo’s businesses. Some days we receive mountains of information, others, none at all.
And with every day that passes, I feel my sanity slipping slowly away. I need the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair. I want to scream where no one can hear me.
Sitting on the plush sofa in my apartment, the spectacular Manhattan view laid out in front of me, my knee is bouncing in agitation as I bite my thumb nail. I want to blow something up. Or hit something. Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t even know what I need.
Well, I do—but it’s off-limits.
Fuck this shit. Standing, I grab my bike keys off the counter, stuff my phone in my back pocket, and storm out of my room, not even bothering to close the door fully behind me. Punching the button for the elevator, I pace in front of it while I’m waiting. It’s like bugs are crawling under my skin and I’m desperate to scratch them off.
Why couldn’t Vincenzo have just been in that warehouse? I’m so done with chasing after him, of him always escaping. He gets away with everything—drugs, trafficking, murder—while his victims and their families pay the price.
I know life isn’t fair. There’s no law saying otherwise. Karma doesn’t always come knocking, and the universe isn’t always balanced. If it was, he’d be currently burning in hell, while my mother would be alive and happy.
The doors open and I step inside, barreling into Kian before I notice he’s already inside. “Sorry,” I mutter, pushing the button for the garage.
