Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“What do you want? Money?”
“No. It’s very simple: Carlo lost my girl; I will take his.”
“I’m not his girl.” The fact that it’s not a lie almost hurts worse than having my arms wrenched like this. My face pressed into the rug.
“Right. You are mine now. This is perfect.” He seems to be muttering more to himself than to me now. “Viktor will get over his temper tantrum over me losing Mila. Perfect solution.”
I realize I can’t leave with this guy. If I do, I’ll probably never come home. Risking him following through on his threat to cut my face, I let out the loudest scream I can muster.
And then my head smacks violently against the floor, and I black out.
I don’t think I’m out for long because I’m still in the same position when my vision clears, only there’s blood pouring from my nose.
“Get up. I have no intention of carrying you to the car.” He hauls me roughly to my feet. “Let’s go.”
I lurch forward when he shoves me, tottering, my wrenched arms throwing off my balance.
He tosses his jacket over my shoulders–probably to hide the taped wrists. The knife blade prods my throat again. “You make one sound—one single sound—and I’ll cut your tongue out. You understand, yes?”
Tears leak from my eyes, and I bob my head.
He yanks off the tape and drags me out of the apartment and down to the street.
I search frantically for someone to call out to, someone close enough to help, but there’s no one.
My captor pops the trunk and shoves me inside then slams the door.
I scream and scream, but it doesn’t matter. The car starts up and pulls away. I’m about to become this man’s new sex slave.
Chapter 15
Carlo
I’m driving from the docks to the poker game when my phone rings.
I haven’t heard from Don Al since the night at Swank, but I go on as if I still belong in the organization. Until I hear differently, I still have responsibilities. A high-stakes game to run, managing the grappa shipment from my great uncle we smuggle in to avoid import tax. A new shipment of cell phones to be distributed to avoid taps or tracking.
I haven’t decided what to do about Vince. Probably nothing, since he had the don’s best interest in mind. I was in the wrong. He was right to call me on it.
I answer the call. “Uncle Junior.” He’s my one tie to my old life. I cling to my contact with Junior like a lifeline.
“Carlo. Mario paid me a visit.”
“Fanculo.”
“He seemed to think I’ve been sending your mom flowers on her birthday.”
I curse again.
“Of course, I didn’t tell him anything. He’s family too, but what he did wasn’t right. We had a stare-down over ammazzacaffè, and when he stopped questioning me over the flowers, he asked about my exports.”
Fanculo, fanculo, fanculo.
Mario’s made the connection. If he hasn’t already figured it out, he will soon.
“Well, if he comes, he comes. I’ll be ready for him.”
“That’s why I’m warning you.”
“Thanks, Junior. Everything on track for the next shipment?”
“Still on track. I’ll tell you when it’s in motion.”
“Thanks, Junior. Talk to you later.” I hit the end button and curse again.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I check it.
No one fucks with Alexei.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Clearly the Russian has been stewing. I let him live. My mistake. I need to talk to Al about taking care of this stronzo.
Of course, Al and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms right now.
I consider a few threatening responses but decide not to reply at all.
Of course, that brings in another text. You took my girl so I’m taking yours.
I slam on the brakes and swerve to the side of the road, my heart pounding. This can’t be… this has to be a bluff. How would he even know about Summer? Or where to find her?
I call Summer, wanting to rip the steering wheel off the car when she doesn’t answer.
Tracking.
Her dad has a location tracker on her phone, and I gave myself access to it. I open the app, hoping to God I’ll see her somewhere safe. At school. At her apartment. Anything.
But what I see turns my blood cold. She’s at my apartment.
Which means, Alexei might actually have her.
I hit call. “Where is she?” I snarl when Alexei answers.
Alexei laughs. “You got my message.”
“Where. Is. She?” I bellow.
He chuckles again. “You think we’re bargaining. We’re not. I’m not holding your girl hostage. I’m keeping her. I want you to remember. No one fucks with Alexei.”
“She’s not mine. You took the don’s fucking daughter. If you touch one hair on her—”
Alexei ends the call.
Fuck. I slam my fist into the dashboard over and over again.
Summer.
I have to get her back before that maniac does anything to her.
I have to rescue my girl, but I don’t even know where to start.