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Probably both.
I waited one entire hour before following Lucky to New York City. I knew if she saw me following her, I would risk Kay being killed. But there was nothing stopping me once I knew I couldn’t catch up with their car.
“Nathan,” Sam snaps over the car speaker. “Vito is well aware that you know where to find him. He either isn’t keeping Kayla at his compound, or he is waiting for you to do exactly the stupid shit you’re doing right now. He will kill you on sight.”
“He wants to talk, or he would have killed her by now and sent a message. If he’s keeping her alive, he’s waiting for me. I’ll talk to him.” Taking a staggered breath, I grit my teeth. “Check my messages again,” I tell Emma.
She opens my app and shakes her head. “Nothing new.”
All they did was send a picture of Kayla in a basement, sitting on a chair with her hands tied behind her back. She didn’t look hurt, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.
“He will kill you.”
“He will talk. I’ve worked with that man for as long as I can remember. He doesn’t feel threatened by competition. He knows there’s enough work for everyone. But I should have told him my plans.”
“He’s probably pissed that you took his suppliers and that you’re angering the Wolves. Especially knowing the Bratva still associates you with him. It’s not like you sent a memo to tell everyone you weren’t associating with the Cosa Nostra anymore. Your actions have repercussions on his family.”
Fuck, fuck. I hate when he’s right.
“I’m almost there,” I repeat. “I just don’t fucking understand why he didn’t just…call.”
“Because you’re not an associate anymore.”
I huff. The look in Kayla’s eyes when she asked me to let her leave with Lucky broke something inside me. I think it was the remnant of my sanity. I need to see her, and I need to see her alive. The second she’s out of the Lucianos’ hold, I’ll be able to talk with them.
“You stay in the car,” I tell Emma the second I stop outside their compound. There’s a guard waiting in front of their gates, and I open my window.
“Tell Vito Nathan White is here.”
He kisses his teeth, arranging the machine gun on his shoulder and eyeing whatever is inside the car.
“Before I gouge your eyes out would be a good idea,” I add.
He presses a walkie talkie clipped on his jacket and announces my name. A few seconds later, the gates open.
“Fuck,” Emma huffs next to me. “Fuck, we’re so going to die.”
“Emma,” I say, my voice dropping from anger. “I have very little patience right now. Do yourself a favor and don’t make this worse.”
“What if they kill her? Shit, two months ago, I hated the girl, and then your psycho ass made me feel bad for her and like her and now I don’t want her to die.”
I stop my car in front of a gothic mansion that makes it look like we’ve traveled all the way to the English countryside. In this remote part of the city, the Lucianos have enough money to keep building and expanding their compound.
I’ve been here before. I’ve had meetings with Vito and Emiliano, his dad, many times when I worked for Bianco. Hell, we’ve known each other since we were kids. But since being out of prison, I haven’t contacted Vito to tell him my plans, and that’s been a big fucking mistake. Especially since I took over the Canadian suppliers.
I groan to myself. I’ve been so focused on Kayla and my obsession with her, that I’ve not been running my business how I should have. And now her life is in danger. And theirs too, since I’m going to kill everyone in my way if they don’t let me get to her.
Two guards approach our car, and I turn to Emma. “I’m going to say this one more time. You stay in here, do nothing, say nothing, and don’t fucking look at anyone. I’ll be back soon.”
She hits her head against the headrest. “Starting to work for you was the biggest fucking mistake ever.”
“I’m sure your bank account disagrees.”
I open my door, nodding at the two guards as they walk me to the entrance. The outside lights are on, basking the dark porch in a yellow glow. It might have been the beginning of the night when they took Kay, but it’s two a.m. now that we’ve had to drive five hours.
I dust off the tuxedo I’m wearing as I enter the marbled entrance and do my best to act fresh and collected, even though inside I’m already murdering everyone.
When a third person approaches, I’m already taking out my two guns from their holsters. I don’t need to be told anything. I’ve danced this dance many times before.
