Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“You don’t think he’ll run?” Rafe asks seriously.
“He has nowhere to go but to Calderone,” I say. “It’s the only shot we’ve got.”
He nods once. “I’ll put a tracker on his car.”
I walk back into the security room.
Tomasso turns from the monitors. “Anything?”
“Yes,” I say. “The car went toward Brooklyn.”
His face gives me almost nothing. “Brooklyn is a big place.”
“That’s what I said,” I answer, staring at him coldly.
Rafe comes in behind me and drops a map on the table.
“Withers Street,” he says. “Calderone used to run a club there. I bet that’s where he took her.”
Tomasso steps closer. His face gives away nothing. “What do you want me to do?”
I watch him carefully.
“I think we’ve got it covered. Why don’t you head out? I’ll call you if there are any developments.”
“I’m not leaving you now,” he protests.
“You’ve been a great help,” I tell him. The words feel like poison coming out of my mouth. “We’ll take it from here.”
Rafe catches my eye across the room, then glances once toward Tomasso. A message comes through on my phone a second later.
Tracker is live.
I delete the message and slide the phone back into my pocket. Tomasso notices.
“News?” he asks.
“Nothing useful,” I tell him. “We’re going to the club.”
He nods. “Call me if you need me, I guess,” he says, before leaving.
Five minutes later, Rafe and I watch on his phone as Tomasso’s car starts moving.
“Let’s go,” I tell Rafe. “If Bradley drives fast enough, we should get there just a couple minutes after Tomasso.”
He smiles wryly, and we head for the elevator. Maybe it’s a stupid plan, but it’s all I’ve got. Tomasso is just prideful enough to think he’s gotten away with something. When the time is right, I’ll deal with him.
For now, I can only focus on getting Sofia back.
27
SOFIA
Iknow I’ve made a mistake before the car even pulls away from the curb. The driver doesn’t say a word. He just waits until I close the door, then hits the lock.
It’s a small sound, and it turns my whole body cold. I grab the handle. It doesn’t budge.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
The driver doesn’t answer. There’s a man in the front passenger seat. I didn’t notice him when I got in, but now he turns slightly toward me.
“Relax, Sofia,” he says. “We’re taking you to your father.”
My stomach drops. So they know all about me. I shove my hand into my purse for my phone, but the man in the passenger seat is faster. He reaches back, grabs my wrist, and twists just enough to make me gasp.
“Don’t,” he says calmly.
“Let go of me.”
He takes my purse from my lap and passes it to the driver. The driver tucks it somewhere I can’t reach.
“I need my phone,” I protest, in a voice much braver than I feel.
“No, you don’t,” he says coldly.
There’s really no rebuttal to that, is there? So I just sit back and cross my arms, furious with myself for getting in this car to begin with. What the hell was I thinking?
I stare out the window, wondering exactly how screwed I am. Are they going to kill me? Did they even take my father, or is this all some kind of elaborate ruse just to get me? I came to them willingly.
No one speaks for a long time, then I hear a phone buzz. I wonder if it’s mine until the man in front answers.
“Yes, the package is secured. We have the Vieri heir.”
My stomach turns. They know I’m pregnant. Worse, they’re already using my baby as a bargaining chip. The Vieri heir. The phrase sounds disgusting. My baby is a precious life, not a pawn in this endless game of chess.
More disturbing is how they could have found out. The circle of those who know is small. My father only found out days ago. Maya knows. Chiara knows. Dominic knows. Rafe probably knows because Dominic tells Rafe everything. Dr. Greco knows, but I doubt my very glamorous OB-GYN is moonlighting for the Calderones between prenatal appointments.
There really is a mole in Dominic’s organization. It’s how my father was taken. It’s why there was no one waiting at the bottom of the service elevator. This is all purposeful.
I try to track the turns as we drive, but panic makes the city useless. We go over a bridge, or under one. I can’t tell. I hear traffic, tires hissing over wet pavement, the low murmur of the men in front speaking too quietly for me to catch. I press my palm to my stomach and try to breathe the way Dr. Greco told me to, slow and steady, as if breathing will do anything when I’m locked in the back of a car with men who know too much about my body.