Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I can’t respond to her because if I open my mouth, I’ll start describing in lurid detail everything I plan to do to the people who took her, to whomever photographed her on the ground, whoever dumped her there to begin with—the list is long and disturbing.
Nobody wastes time telling me they’ll send in a team or do some recon. No way in hell am I staying behind. They all know it.
“It could be a trap to draw you out,” Lynette says.
“I know that.” I say.
“Wear the Kevlar,” she says.
“No time.”
I’m already getting on the elevator. She’ll assemble a team and have them on site. She’s pulling surveillance video and gets IT to hack Carbini’s cell phone. The fury pumping though my blood is so strong that I feel like I could outrun the car I took even though I see the speedometer top eighty. I don’t care if the driver runs over everything in our path.
Lynette updates me on who’s coming, which storage unit was opened around two this afternoon, and that Louie and six others were dropped on the roof just now by the helicopter. It’s too ostentatious to use in the city but this is an emergency. I don’t care if it draws attention. Maybe the cops’ll come check out the storage units. Two men will stand guard up on the roof, my sharpshooters, in case Carbini tries to move her out of the building. The rest will flank me and clean up the mess I leave in my wake.
My phone rings. I see the caller ID and almost laugh at the audacity. Vinny Carbini’s calling me.
I tap the green button to answer and let him gloat.
“I guess you got my message, Jacky Boy,” he chuckles. “She’s a pretty thing, not as classy as your usual type though.”
I want to roar, to spit in his face and cut this throat. But if I give him enough silence, he’ll brag on himself enough to give me information I may need. I have to keep my mouth shut.
“Ain’t you curious what I’m gonna do with her and the old man? I figure since you like my territory so much you wouldn’t mind me keepin’ your girlfriend and her daddy here for a while. Maybe teach you to stay in your lane, maybe cut up her pretty face a little—” he stops, waiting for me to snap and make threats.
He’s too stupid to realize we passed threats long ago. The second his men laid a hand on Serena, he should’ve had his cemetery plot picked out.
Refusing to say a single word, I press ‘end’. I know he’ll be enraged. His fury could not match mine though. Never.
There is no end to the things I want to do to this man’s organization. Dismantle it, destroy it, burn it down and salt the earth like we’re in ancient Sparta. I considered myself a businessman who does what’s necessary. Until Vinny Carbini stole Serena and woke the warrior inside me.
I could cut through legions with a sword or a switchblade now. Nothing would slow me or stop me. I press the screen of my phone and send a message to one of my men here on the ground as we stop by the back door. She’s in there, alive, being brave and loyal and everything she is while scared half to death. Carbini will pay for every second she’s been afraid.
My plan is in place, simple and straightforward. I’ll breach the storage room, target the guards and secure Serena while Louie and his boys pick off the rest. I’m ice cold when I step out of the car. I don’t need to check my sidearm or my smartwatch. There’s no reason to roll up my sleeves because this won’t take long. I’ll be out of this building with Serena safe and sound in less than five minutes. Three minutes is the goal I set myself.
Carbini is by the book and not creative. For the first time, I have some appreciation for those characteristics because I don’t have to be concerned about the unexpected. The only unpredictable thing the man ever did is the one that’s going to dig his grave this afternoon. He went after someone I love and won’t live to tell the tale.
23
SERENA
Iwake up on the cold concrete. It’s dark here, and it stinks. I roll onto my side and get sick. I retch again and again until I know my stomach’s empty. I’m fuzzy headed and queasy from the chloroform or whatever they used to knock me out. After I puke, I can’t exactly pretend I’m still knocked out, so I venture a ‘hello?’ Because I can’t tell if I’m alone.
In response, the bright overhead lights switch on. My eyes water in response to the shock of the glare. I take it in, every detail as fast as I can. I’m in a big concrete room with an overhead garage door at one end guarded by two big guys with bigger guns.