Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Good.”
“You are aware there’s a warrant out for your arrest,” Bruno tells Amadeo.
“Yeah, well, that’s all going to have to wait until I’ve found my wife.” Amadeo settles himself behind the desk.
“You need to get out of here,” Bruno says, ignoring him.
“Any luck with the password?” Amadeo asks him.
“Not yet.”
“Try Nadia,” I say more as a joke than anything else.
Amadeo chuckles. “Well, fuck. I’d say that’s brilliant, but quite frankly, it was more idiotic of Sonny than anything else.”
“It worked? You’re fucking kidding me,” I say.
Amadeo offers Bruno the seat. What might take my brother or me hours to find Bruno will find in about a third of the time.
I bring the tote over.
“Isn’t that Vittoria’s bag?” Amadeo asks.
“You really do need to go,” Bruno tells Amadeo.
“In a minute.”
“Found this,” I say, taking out her phone as well as the cash and setting both on the desk.
He shakes his head. “That’s our bad. We should have searched what that bastard handed to her. She have contact with anyone?”
“No calls but she did have a conversation over text with her brother. He offered to get her out.”
“And?”
“Doesn’t seem like she took him up on it at least according to the chat.”
“Good.”
“But there’s something else.” I pick up the phone, navigate to Safari, and hand it to Amadeo.
“How did she get these?”
I show him the photo with the website and password. “I’m guessing Lucien handed it to Geno.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
My phone dings. “That’s a list of possible safehouses he’d have taken her to,” Bruno says, turning to us. “But you need to go. Now. You won’t be much good to anyone sitting in a jail cell.”
“That’s why I’m counting on you not to let that happen. Sonny has to have something on the officials in his pocket.”
“I’m sure he does, but until I find it,” Bruno says, putting a flash drive into Sonny’s computer and pushing some buttons before turning to face us. “You need to stay out of sight. I’m serious, Amadeo. I need time, and my priority is finding Vittoria. Help me to help you.” The computer screen goes black. Bruno takes the drive, pockets it, and stands.
“I’ll stay out of sight, but I’m not going into hiding like a fucking coward while Vittoria is out there on her own.”
“Bastian?” Bruno turns to me.
“I’m with Amadeo on this one.”
He shakes his head. “Let’s go,” he says.
I open the folder on my phone. “There are two dozen addresses in here.”
“I’ll try to narrow it down,” he says as he searches for something in the wall.
“What are you doing?” Amadeo asks.
“Sonny had an exit plan in case things ever went south.” Something pops, and a part of the wall springs open. “And here it is. It’ll take you down to the garage. Car is waiting. Keep your phones on.”
Amadeo looks at him, nods. “Thank you.” He then turns to me. “What about Mom and Emma? If anything happens to me—”
“I’m going with you, brother.”
“Someone needs to be there in case—”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I say again. “We go together. Period.”
“And I’ll be there,” Bruno adds, then turns to me. “Get him out of here.”
25
VITTORIA
My throat is hoarse, and I’m lying on the floor on my side, still cuffed to the chair, losing my fucking mind when the lights finally stop flickering and go out, plunging me into utter darkness.
For a moment, everything stops. But then that clock ticks, and I hear myself repeating the same words over and over. Muttering them. It’s the language of the insane.
My left arm has gone numb, and my cheekbone throbs. I’m lying with my full weight on my arm, and my face hit the concrete floor when I toppled. I don’t remember it happening, though. Can’t remember when I fell over. All I know is what I kept seeing. The gruesome images plastered to the walls. I don’t know if it was the same one or not. Blood and brains and the inside of someone’s head.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the nausea that makes my stomach spasm. I’m not struggling. I stopped a while ago. I’m lying here instead remembering the endless ticking of another clock. The blinking of another set of lights.
The smell of bleach permeates my nostrils, and although I know it’s not real, I swear I can still feel the burn as I scrubbed my hands raw. But it was either that or blood.
Suddenly, the light blinks on. It’s blindingly bright and jolts me from my thoughts. My eyelids fly open, and I stare straight ahead at the images stuck to the wall. A whine that doesn’t sound like me comes from deep inside my belly, and I close my eyes, even as I hear the footsteps descending. Even as I know my assailant is coming for me. I keep them closed when he stops within inches of me. I don’t want to look. I can’t see. Because what if that’s not all I see? What more is plastered to those walls?