Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Where did he take her?”
I turn away from the screens and walk out of the room.
Rafe follows closely. “Where are we going?”
“Warehouse.” My voice is flat. “Car.”
He falls into step. “You think Nico handed her to Boston?”
I shove open the front door, the cold air slamming into me. “Boston makes the most sense. They want leverage.”
Rafe’s jaw tightens. “So . . . he—”
My chest tightens. “He gives them my wife. And I’m going to burn the city down until we find her.”
60
Lorenzo
My car rolls to a stop.
Rafe kills the engine and glances over at me once, his jaw locked tight.
I step out into the night air. Instantly, the cold bites through my clothes and seeps straight into my bones.
“Two on the porch. One patrolling the right side.” Rafe’s voice stays low and clipped so no one will hear him.
I adjust my gloves. “Roll out.”
We move through the trees toward the warehouse.
Two guards linger in front. They aren’t paying much attention because they are too busy smoking.
The first guard laughs at something the other guy says, head tipping back for a second like he’s offering up his throat to me.
Not one to pass up an opportunity, I take aim.
The shot is quiet. A suppressor will do that, but as the guard drops to the ground, his friend is now aware he’s under attack.
The other guy spins, mouth opening to scream, but he never gets a chance to make a sound.
It’s his turn to stumble back as the bullet finds him.
With both dead, I step toward the metal door and slide it open.
As I step inside, I notice a shadow moving at the end of the hall . . . and I fire without pausing.
The bullet punches into the wall next to his head. The plaster explodes, freezing him in place.
“Don’t move,” I order.
He follows my command, face draining when he looks at me.
“You—” His voice cracks. “You weren’t supposed to—”
“I know.” I interrupt, stepping forward. “I like to do things I’m not supposed to do. Keeps shit interesting.”
Rafe steps up beside me, his gun now aimed at this idiot too.
I don’t look away from the man.
“You have a woman here?” My voice is steady despite my anger.
The man’s throat bobs. “We don’t—”
I cock my head, and his lips start to tremble.
“She’s not . . . she’s not here.”
I tilt my head. “Interesting.”
The man shakes, frantic. “This isn’t—this isn’t what you think.”
“It never is,” I reply, sick of this shit. “Let’s search the place,” I tell Rafe.
It only takes a few minutes to search this floor, and there is no sign of Victoria.
My jaw tightens.
Rafe watches me carefully, trying to assess if I’m going to kill this guy. “Basement door.”
I follow his gaze to a door half-hidden behind a coatrack.
A faint sound can be heard, but it doesn’t sound like Victoria. I won’t know until we go down to check.
We descend, Rafe holding the man as a shield as we head down to the lower level.
Behind a table that’s filled with drugs and a scale sits a man who looks to be in his early twenties.
Fuck.
This is him.
The bastard we’ve been searching for.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He drops the razor blade. “You’re the Amante bastard.”
I raise my gun. “I’m really not in the mood for your shit. We can do this the easy way . . . you tell me where she is, and I shoot you. Or you don’t, and I torture you . . . and you tell me where she is anyway.”
He flinches.
I lean in. “Where is she?”
His eyes flicker. “Who?”
“Got it. Torture.” I move until I’m right beside him, reaching out until the tip of my gun drags down his jaw. “I can easily shoot different places that won’t kill you, and then after, I’ll take my fucking blade and find each bullet inside you. I like to keep my trophies. Want to try again? Where’s Victoria?”
His throat works. “I don’t have her.”
“As I said before, you’re dying anyway. I know you’re the one hitting my uncle’s inventory, so how are we going to do this?” I reply.
I keep my gaze on the man. “Well?”
“Fuck you.” He spits near my boots. “Your uncle’s old. I was just trimming fat.”
Rafe’s mouth quirks. “Trimming fat? Cute.”
I gesture for Rafe to back me. He nods before shooting the human shield in his arms and then pinning his gun on Connor.
I slide the gun in my waistband before pulling out my knife.
“Tell me where she is.” I crouch closer, keeping my voice low.
“I don’t have her.”
“The hard way . . . got it.” I place the tip of the knife on his neck, then slice down the skin. The cut is deep enough to bleed, but I make sure to miss all the crucial spots.
The man laughs weakly, blood dripping down the path I made. “You think you scare me?”