Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
My man runs up. “A driver is on the way with the 4x4, sir. We loaded the weapons in the cars.”
I look at my phone, and then I go cold. The app is no longer tracking Waldo’s location. His phone signal is dead.
“Please,” Uncle Enzo says. “Taking the kids was never supposed to happen. You have to let me make this right.”
I don’t spare him another glance. He doesn’t deserve my attention. “Bring him,” I say as I turn my back on him and head toward the car. “If he makes a wrong move, shoot him in the head.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Angelo
* * *
One of my men shoves my uncle into the back of the car and slams the door. I walk down the driveway until I’m out of earshot. My heart is in my throat when I call Sabella.
Her words rush through the line. “Are you on your way home?”
Home.
I don’t know where that is anymore. The old house. The new house. I want home to be with her. I want to make up for the lost time and ugly doubts. More than anything, I want to trust her. I didn’t know how important that was to me until this moment.
“Cara.” I hesitate, weighing my words, but I don’t know how to soften the blow. “Someone took the kids.”
“What?” she exclaims. “When? Who?”
“One of my enemies. They intercepted them when the driver dropped them off at school.”
“That’s horrible.” Her voice trembles. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to get them back.” I grind my teeth. “I promise you.”
“Why?” she cries out. “What do they want?”
“They’re asking for money, but I don’t think they’re interested in the cash. They just want to hit me where I’ll feel it the hardest.”
“Please tell me you have an idea where they took them.”
“I have the location before we lost my driver’s phone signal, but I have a good tracker. I’ll find them.”
“I’m so scared.” She exhales with a shaky breath. “I don’t even want to think how they feel.”
That’s why I contemplated not telling her, but I reckoned keeping her in the dark would’ve been crueler. “Pack your things. When I get back, I’m taking you home with me.” When only silence stretches, I say, “To the old house.”
“Mr. Russo,” she utters with a note of protest. “We need to talk first, and now is hardly the time.”
“You’re right.” I wipe a hand over my brow. “We’ll talk when I’m back.”
“Please bring them home. I beg you.”
“I will.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“Just promise me.”
The same tenderness of earlier creeps up on me, catching me off guard. “I promise.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding close to tears.
The driver gives me a thumbs-up sign.
“I’ve got to go, cara. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Soon.”
My gut clenches when I end the call. I hate every minute of submitting her to this stress because I know how it feels when anxiety eats away at your insides.
I’m barely settled in the back next to my uncle when my phone rings.
“Go,” I tell the driver as I answer the call.
It’s the principal, informing me after the morning’s roll call that the kids didn’t show up for school. As I can’t involve the police, I tell her they caught a stomach bug. She ensures me she’ll send an email to the parents to warn them there’s a virus doing the rounds. I thank her for her efficiency and hang up to dial Heidi.
My uncle shoots me a nervous look but wisely turns his face to the window. After bringing Heidi up to speed with the turn of events, I shove my phone in my pocket and put everything out of my mind except for the manhunt that’s about to begin.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Sabella
* * *
I pace in the lounge as the sky turns from clear blue to deep purple, but there’s no word from Angelo. I consider calling a hundred times, but I don’t want to distract him. His focus needs to be on finding the kids.
For most of the day, I wait in front of the window, going out of my mind with worry. I feel physically sick. My thoughts are scattered and disjointed. They jump from one subject to the next, unable to stay focused. Everything turns around in circles in my mind.
He’ll find the kids.
I have to believe that.
They’ll come home, and things will go back to normal.
Normal.
What is that?
How will we pick up the pieces and make a home for the children?
He wants me to move back to the old house.
Not so long ago, I vowed I’d never live in that house. He banished me, and I swore I’d never go back. But everything is different now. It’s not just about him and me any longer. There are children to consider—the unborn baby I carry and the ones I love like my own. I can’t let my pride stand in the way of what’s best for the kids. However, I’m not going back to be locked up in a room. I refuse to return as his prisoner. If I go back, it’s to take my place at his side as his wife.