Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t have stepped outside the house to make those calls. I should’ve stayed right in Jack’s room and kept my eyes trained on him. Better yet, I should’ve tied Grace and Jack to my own body so they’d follow me wherever I go.
But it’s too late for regrets. Sentiments won’t get Jack back to me.
I race through the streets, heading downtown, trusting Hector to come through for me. True enough, when he calls me back, he gives me the name of the hotel.
In that hotel, I’ll find Tom and Patrick. And I’ll pummel them into a pulp if I have to. I’ve got to teach people a lesson.
Nobody takes my baby away from me. Not even my own father.
My fist pounds the door. In my mind, though, I’m actually punching my dad’s men in their ugly faces.
“Who’s there?” comes a response from inside.
“Should we say room service?” Grace whispers. I’d laugh if the fury surging through my body weren’t so overwhelming.
“Open up, assholes!” Under my breath, I mutter, “Motherfuckers. I’ll get this door open with or without their cooperation.”
Grace asks, “You have a lock pick?”
The dingy, puke-green walls of the hallway vibrate along with my pounding. A woman who had been moaning like a cat in heat goes silent.
I wouldn’t be surprised if prostitutes met their johns here. This looks like the kind of establishment that takes hourly bookings.
As a general rule, my dad provides a pretty generous travel budget. There’s absolutely no reason for these guys to slum it in a place like this unless they’re blowing the money on booze or drugs. Or both. And prostitutes.
The thought of my son spending time around those degenerates makes my blood boil. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
When I hear no response, I take a step back from the door. Judging by the hinge, it’s supposed to swing away from me. Perfect.
I didn’t want to do this because it might scare Jack, but they’ve left me no choice.
Driving my left heel into the ground, I kick the door with my other heel. The cheap, hollow wood begins to splinter.
“Fuck,” comes a curse from the inside. The same voice as before. I thought there were two men sent into town?
I keep working on the door, focusing on the part close to where the lock is mounted.
“Matteo, someone’s coming,” Grace warns in an anxious tone.
Footsteps rush down the hallway. “Hey!” Glancing to the side, I find a man wearing a stained, white wife-beater, pointing his index finger at me.
Ignoring him, I take out my aggression on the door. There’s plenty more where that came from; enough to turn my dad’s men into a bloody mess.
The door gives way with a satisfying crack, swinging open and thudding against the wall.
Tom stands right under an overhead light, his bald head reflecting the yellow light. He raises both hands in the air. “I was just about to open the door for you.”
I don’t care what he was about to do. Scanning the room, my stomach drops. I slam the bathroom door wide open. Jack’s not here.
“Hey! Man, you can’t do that. You’ll have to pay,” says a voice from behind me. Probably some guy who works at the hotel.
“Where is he?” I march toward Tom, who steps backward, his eyes fixed on me. Raising my voice, I ask again, “I swear I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me. Where the fuck is he?”
“He’s not here, man.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as the back of his thigh bumps into a chair. He glances behind him, but it’s too late. I’m too close.
Grabbing him by the collar of his yellowed, button-down shirt, I slam him against the wall. Instantly, the hotel guy shuts up. There’s only Tom’s whimpers and my threats.
“I know he’s not here. I have eyes. Tell me where he is.” I don’t even bother asking Tom if they’ve taken Jack. The answer is obvious.
“The airport. At the airport,” he stammers, his eyes flickering with fear. “We were told to bring him home right away.”
Fuck. They move fast. “What flight?”
He makes a nervous sound. “Uh, um, I think, uh, I don’t know. Northeast. I think.”
I pull my fist back and stare him in the eye. He knows I won’t hesitate to hurt him. I’d be glad for the opportunity to let off some steam. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t the one who bought the tickets,” he blurts out, his voice shaking.
With a loud growl, I punch him in the gut. As he doubles over in pain, I grab his hair. “Think harder, asshole.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t,” he whimpers pathetically.
“He’s with Patrick?”
“Yes. Yes. With Patrick. At the airport.” He repeats the same information as if that could somehow help me find Jack.
I grip Tom’s wrist and turn him around, smashing his face against the wall. “Tell me how to find them, or I’ll break your fingers.”