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)
“It was you,” I say in a whisper.
The hulk shoves us forward, and we move, my eyes locked on the side of Lucien’s face as he half drags me. Does he hear me? Does he understand that I know? I know what he did.
“In,” the hulk says, pushing the heavy metal door open.
“It was you,” I say, louder this time. I dig my heels in when he tries to pull me through the door. “You.” He looks at me, eyes flat again, dead again, and I’m not sure if he doesn’t understand or if this is him understanding. This is him feeling no remorse. Nothing at all. “You gave me to them. You did that.”
Lucien cocks his head to the side, lifting one corner of his mouth.
My rage burns hot, and I reach for the pistol in the holster at the hulk’s hip. He’s faster than me, though, and stronger and almost breaks my hand. He shoves me away so hard I hit the wall, my head bouncing off it, and I go down. Stars dance before my eyes, and I’m stunned.
I know what happened to me now. I understand the nightmares.
And I know it was him.
I force my eyes to focus on the shoes in front of me. I look up at Lucien. But it’s not a man I see. It’s a monster.
He reaches down casually to grab my arm and haul me to my feet.
“It was also me who told them not to kill you. Thought that was a mistake, but you’re going to get me out of a mess now, so I guess the old saying is true. Everything happens for a reason.”
He tugs me painfully across the threshold, and the metal door clangs shut behind us. I drag my gaze from my demon brother and look around the room and understand what he’s saying. What I’m going to get him out of.
Because this room is full of men. Dangerous men. Soldiers. They go quiet, and all eyes turn to us. To me.
I try to get free, but Lucien’s hold is like a vise. I scan the sea of faces and immediately see the one in charge. There’s an air about him. He takes a step toward us and looks at my brother with irritation, but when his eyes land on me, he stops short. His expression changes, face morphing into something completely other.
And my own heart stops because I know who he is. I know exactly who he is.
27
AMADEO
My phone rings shortly after we drive out of the garage in one of Sonny’s cars.
“I just had a call,” he says, sounding anxious. “There’s activity in an abandoned school building about an hour north of Naples. I’m sending the address. Dmitri Anders is supposedly there. Authorities are getting ready to pick him up.”
“Why would we care about Dmitri Anders?” I ask.
“Those photos you sent of the mystery man with Leah Russo? The tattoos identify him as being that man.”
“Vittoria’s mother was having an affair with Dmitri Anders? The same man we’re talking about having a financial link to Lucien Russo?” Bastian asks.
“One and the same.”
I look at Bastian, who appears as confused as me.
“On the school, Lucien Russo called in the tip,” Bruno adds. “Made some sort of arrangement is what my contact is telling me. So he’s likely there. He and Sonny may have been working together. They have before. And if he had those photos of Leah and Anders, he could be using Vittoria to save his own neck. Anders will want payment for the lost men.”
“And Vittoria will be that payment,” I say.
“That’s insane. The man had an affair with her mother. Using Vittoria is… sick.”
“He’s desperate,” I say.
“And we don’t know anything about Dmitri Anders or his relationship with Leah. Not to mention his morals or ethics.”
“Calling the authorities is his backup plan,” I say, understanding. It’s all that makes sense. “He’s hoping they’ll pick Anders up in case Anders doesn’t accept the payment.”
“Could be,” Bruno says.
“Could he be Emma’s father?” Bastian asks.
“Haven’t had a chance to do more than identify the tattoos,” Bruno says.
“How far are we from the school?” I ask as Bastian enters the address of the building into the GPS.
“You’re about an hour out. If you backtrack about four miles, I can get the chopper out there,” Bruno says, tracking our location. “It’ll be faster than driving. There’s a clearing where he can land. You’ll see it from the road.”
We’re on a long stretch of road, and although I see the headlights of a car coming toward us, I hit the brakes and jerk the steering wheel. Bastian curses, grabbing the handhold as the car skids, bouncing off the road before I right it and head back the way we came. Because this is our only big lead.
“On our way,” Bastian says. “If my brother doesn’t kill us first.”