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When I don’t answer, he turns toward me. “Boss. I need you to agree with me.”
“We have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m going in first.” When I scoff, he slaps a palm against the glovebox. “Let me do my job. I’m not going to watch you walk into a trap. I need to check and make sure it’s safe.”
“Do what you feel is best.” I’m not going to fight over something this inconsequential when I prefer imagining Jack’s agony. He kidnapped my little bird. He could’ve killed my daughter. He took her mother from her. He tried to use my unborn child against me. There is nothing painful enough for him–but that won’t keep me from trying to make him feel that pain.
The warehouse sits in a quiet part of town surrounded by tall, boxy buildings with darkened windows. They cast long shadows over an empty street, and I swear I taste foreboding in the air. I couldn’t have chosen a better location for what’s about to happen. I know it is. I feel it. He’s nearby, and every breath he takes is one closer to his final gasp. I slow the car to turn into the
fenced–off lot.
We’re a few dozen feet from the warehouse when I roll to a stop. Neither of us speaks as we study the scene. five dark cars sit empty and the wide door leading inside the brick structure sits slightly ajar beneath a bare light bulb.
“I don’t see anyone out here,” Roger muses before removing the clock from his waistband. “That’s a lot of cars to have nobody posted outside.”
“I’ll call him.” I look away from the door long enough to pull up the last incoming number and place the call. When he answers, I mutter, “I’m outside.”
“Come in.” The door swings open, and Sebastian appears. He looks around for a moment before spotting my car, then waves his arm. He’s smiling like a man greeting long–awaited guests.
“He’s either insane or… no, I’m going with insane.” Roger opens his door, and I do the same. Sebastian eyes the gun visible in Roger’s hand–his brows drawn together with concern, but he doesn’t say a word. A good sign. If this was a trap, he’d tell us we don’t need to be armed. It’s what I would do.
I can barely hear over the heavy thud of my heart by the time we stop in the circle of light thrown off by the overhead bulb. “I told you to come alone, but I figure you two are joined at the hip, so it doesn’t matter.” Sebastian looks Roger up and down, smirking.
“What’s this about?” I demand. “Tell me he’s waiting for me in there.”
He’s still smirking when he jerks his head toward the door. “See for yourself.”
“Wait.” Roger throws out an arm, blocking me. “I’d like an explanation. There’s a lot of cars out there for only a few people to be here,”
“They won’t be driving home. They won’t be driving anywhere. There are two people from Moroni’s side still breathing: Jack, and his oldest daughter.” His eyes gleam while a satisfied smile stretches his lips. “Congratulations are in order. I’m getting married.”
“He agreed to your deal?”
“Big time. He was so desperate to end you after Donovan, he would have agreed to anything. He gave me his daughter, and I was supposed to give him the men and the money to get to you.” He lisa shoulder. “Whoops. I guess I lied.”
I can’t stand waiting any longer. “I’m going in.”
“One second.” Sebastian’s jovial smile slips, revealing the cumming animal underneath. The sight makes my hackles rise. “I’m going to need a little more than we first discussed when we made his deal.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Roger mutters, shaking his head.
“Out with it,” I urge, ignoring the comment. “What do you want?”
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“Everything. I want all of Moroni’s holdings.”
Roger barely stifles a laugh, but I find no humor in this. My impuls is to agree, to give him everything and anything he wants so long as it means putting an end to this. Instead, I think back on the information we compiled on Jack’s finances, his holdings, the properties scattered over the East Coast. Compared to my empire, it’s nothing. An anthill in the shadow of an armed fortress.
But there was a reason I didn’t want the kid to get his hands on everything all at once. The fear of him becoming too powerful, too fast. Thinking back on the sum of Jack’s meager little portfólio, I feel better about the prospect. “It’s yours.”
Roger’s head swings my way. It’s either wisdom or shock that keeps his mouth closed. Not that I need to hear what he’s thinking. This is my call. This is my family. My well–deserved vengeance. “Now. Can we proceed?”
“Be my guest.” He steps aside, wearing a victorious smile, and I move forward into the brightly lit space. Instead of a massacre involving my men and my ex–wife, it’s the sight of a prone Jack Moroni that catches my eye. He’s curled on his side, hands bound behind his back, ankles bound, and a gag in his mouth. Sweat coats his skin and soaks through his suit. The blood spattered on his jacket most likely came from the dead man lying a few feet away. He’s not the only one, either, which explains the metallic tang hanging in the air. I count four dead bodies in all
“Please… let him go…” The soft, pitiful whimpers catch my attention, drawing my gaze to a girl whose red face is swollen and slick with tears. A pair of men flank her, one hand wrapped around each arm. “Just let us go, please!!” I recognize one of the men as Damien, Sebastian’s brother.
“What do you want us to do with her?” he asks, appearing almost annoyed.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
