AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why, oh why did Giselle constantly find herself in trouble? That girl’s life couldn’t have been easy for once, could it? Everything she’d gone through, everything she’d been forced to live through… if there was one person on this whole fucking earth who deserved a break, it was her.
And I’d do whatever I could so she could get that goddamn break, even if I had to wreak bloody havoc on every single person in Cypress.
Archie called within thirty minutes, telling me the man who’d kidnapped her brought her to a warehouse of sorts, on the outskirts of the city. I told him to keep watch, don’t go barging in; we didn’t know how many men were inside. Going in alone, as capable as my brother was, might be suicide.
And then he called again, twenty minutes after that, to tell me a tall, older, Hispanic man had arrived at that same warehouse and gone inside. I didn’t need to know any more details. That man was Miguel Santos.
Was he the one doing all of this? He wanted Giselle out of the picture in a violent way so he and Rocco could become the saviors of the day? Or perhaps he wanted to pin her murder on someone else, eliminate them from the running.
It didn’t matter. Whatever game Miguel was playing, I wouldn’t let him win.
Turned out, the secondary location was only a temporary one, because Miguel’s plan was to hand Giselle over to a group of gangsters who wore leather jackets with a green serpent patch on their sleeves and backs. I didn’t know who they were, but they weren’t from Cypress; the Black Hand would know about them, if they were.
Those men took Giselle to a third location, where she stayed. She wasn’t in Cypress anymore.
My brother got set up outside the house, a good distance away, before calling me. I was thirty minutes away. So close, and yet still so fucking far. “Looks like these guys are waiting for someone. Their boss, maybe? I don’t know. I have no idea who these guys are, but I’m set up down the street with my scope. What’s your ETA?”
“I’ll be there in—” I checked the car’s GPS. “—twenty-eight minutes. What kind of neighborhood is it?”
“A development that hasn’t gotten developed all the way yet. I’m parked in front of another house, but this one looks empty. I ain’t exactly discreet here. You think—” He paused, and then hurriedly said, “Shit. Someone else just pulled up. A guy with a lot of tattoos. He’s going inside the house.”
A guy with a lot of tattoos wasn’t overly descriptive, but a certain someone did flash in my mind’s eye. “Short dark hair, golden chain around his neck?”
“Yep. You know him?”
“His name’s Damian. He’s also in the running for the Black Hand.” Fuck. Were he and Miguel private partners or something? Was Miguel trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone in secret? But why the hell would he hand over Giselle to him…
Why would Damian want her?
Scratch that. She’s a young, pretty girl. It’s obvious why anyone would want her. Miguel had already sold her out once. Why not a second time?
I was too busy thinking to pay attention to what my brother was saying. “Repeat that.”
“I said it looks like that Damian guy kicked everyone else out of the house. I don’t know for sure that there’s no one else in the house, but I could pick a few of them off now, rush inside and grab her? Assuming Damian is the head honcho here.”
“He is.” He had to be. “But don’t do anything yet. I want to grab him, ask him a few questions. You’ll cover me with the scope.”
Archie sighed. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun, you know that?”
“Did she look all right? When you saw them take her from the car to the house?”
“She wasn’t bleeding, if that’s what you mean. She had a bag over her head, so I couldn’t see much, but I didn’t see any fresh wounds on her.”
We stayed on the phone during the last stretch of the drive. I had my gun sitting on the passenger seat, ready to go. I was five minutes away when Archie said, “Looks like the goons are leaving. Don’t know why. Less bodies, at least. Now no one’s guarding the front door.”
Small mercies, I supposed, although the jury was out whether it would truly be a small mercy. Only if Giselle was still alive. Only if she was safe. Once I had her in my arms, only then could I relax.
Once I arrived, I ended the call and parked my car on the street, just before the house. I grabbed my gun, threw a quick glance around, and then got to work.
And that brought us to now, with Giselle standing before me, her amber eyes angled up at me and her soft, delicate voice asking, “How’d you find me?” The way she was looking at me made me forget all about the other man in the room—the man who’d lowered his gun and was now muttering something about how he’d have to go buy a new door.
Right. Because I’d kicked it so hard it flew off the hinges. No time for lockpicking when I had to save my girl.
I didn’t want to lower my gun, but Giselle looked unharmed. Not only that, but I couldn’t shake the way she’d looked at him, how quietly she’d told Damian that she trusted me, like… like she trusted Damian, too.
What the hell was going on here?
I rested my gun at my side, the metal cold in my hand. I so desperately wanted to reach out for something warm, to feel her soft skin again, and the only reason I resisted was because of the other man in the room, who’d tucked his gun into the waistband of his torn pants and was now kneeling near the broken door.
