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Bowing my head, I strain my ears trying to listen to the conversation, but he’s mumbling too quietly to make out the words. I can’t even tell if he’s speaking English.
When eavesdropping doesn’t work, I fold my arms across my chest and stare at the ceiling. Am I turning into Mom and thinking someone’s out to get me?
Maybe?
My throat tightens.
No.
Jim all but told me he wanted me dead and had the means to cover up my murder. He’s never once made an empty threat. Staying here is my only way of avoiding Jim, but who’s going to keep me safe from Roman? I wrack my brain, trying to work out what Roman could possibly want, but my mind still returns to the ridiculous idea that I’m being trafficked.
The shorter man clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts. “Miss? Mr. Montesano wants to have a word.”
SIXTEEN
ROMAN
By the time Gil and I arrive at the shootout, it’s already over. Smoke rises from the center of a complex of abandoned storage units tucked behind a dilapidated warehouse. Two of my men stand guard close to the building’s entrance, where a body lies in a pool of blood.
Gil whistles. “Nice place to hide a meth lab.”
Thank fuck Cesare dragged that intel from Ricky Ferraro before drowning him with the hose.
Benito steps out of the building, wearing a bullet-proof vest and a scowl. “What took you so long? Someone saw us coming and started shooting.”
I haven’t been late for anything in five years, yet Emberly Kay is already throwing off my focus. That bullshit needs to stop. Shaking off thoughts of that chaotic woman, I turn to my brother.
“I was making our houseguest more comfortable in her new room.”
He leans close to me and whispers, “Same way you made her comfortable last night?”
Snorting, I sling an arm around his shoulder. “Everything is under control. Some women just need a little tender loving gaslighting.”
We continue through the building, passing more of my men, and descend a stairwell leading to the underground lab. The first hints of chemicals fill my nose as we descend, and my heart skips several beats.
Our college-level chemists produced the best quality meth on the market with minimal waste, making it our most lucrative business. One night, they disappeared along with all their equipment, leaving behind bloodstains and broken glass, suggesting a violent struggle and a potential abduction.
This is the first of many assets we’re clawing back from our enemies.
The lab equipment is still intact, save for a few broken glass beakers. Our scientists huddle in the corner of the room, wearing protective suits with their gloved hands raised to the ceiling.
I lock gazes with our lead chemist, Dr. Isabella Cortese. These five years of captivity have aged her prematurely. Her black hair is streaked with gray, but her eyes still shine with the same keen intelligence.
“Isabella, it’s me.” I close the distance between us. “You’re safe, now.”
Recognition flickers in her eyes. “Roman?” her voice breaks. “What are you doing out of jail?”
I pull her into a hug and let her cry on my shoulder, my chest tightening with a pang of guilt for not being able to rescue her sooner.
“We’re taking you all out of here,” I rub her back. “My men will get you and your team out of here and back to your families.”
“These years have been torture,” she rasps, and gives my arm a pinch so hard that it takes every effort not to flinch.
“Is there a problem?” I whisper into her hair.
“Headcount,” she whispers back.
Isabella’s team was younger and was made up of her son and a few others around the same age. Yet there’s an older man in protective gear who looks nothing like a nerd.
