Page 101 of One Filthy Kiss

GIOVANNI

I drivefrom the airport to the cabin. I need to be in control. It’s the only way that I can unpack the thoughts and images raging around inside my head and reassemble them into a situation that is going to go my way.

Meggie and Amber.

Nikki.

Bianca.

Mario and the fucking Russian bratva.

And Enzo.

What the fuck was he doing in Vermont in the first place?

The obvious answer is that he was following Meggie. The second conclusion is that he’s working for The Fish, but neither of them has a starting point in my mind. Why? To get back at me for cutting him out of the family business?

Enzo has never shown any real interest in what we do. Besides, he has his own career and his own fortune. If the familybusiness were ever to fall into his hands, it would be the last generation of Sabatellis to keep it afloat.

“Nothing.” Bruno has been trying to get hold of Ric and the security team, with no success. “My contact in the city is trying to pin down their most recent comms.”

This is the longest amount of time my team has been off grid.

My confidence isn’t quite as assured as it was when I first boarded the flight from LA, no thanks to Mario’s call. The fucker thinks that he can trade my sister and get away with it. I would have spared him his life over his indiscretions and his abuse, for the sake of his family, and the arrangement drawn up by our fathers. But not this.

I slam the heel of my palm against the steering wheel.

Focus. One thing at a time.

First Meggie, then I’ll deal with the bastardo and his bratva allies.

I pump the gas way beyond the legal limit, counting down the miles on the GPS system. Still too slow. It feels as though we’re driving through Jell-O, or a nightmare where water is creeping up the side of the car, and the wheels are turning, but we’re going nowhere.

Stowe is packed up for the night when we cross town along Main Street, the tourists either counting the z’s in their beds or getting rowdy in whatever hotel bars remain open. Regardless, I floor the gas pedal and ignore the traffic signals. Bruno’s contacts follow suit in the vehicles behind.

Ahead of us, the mountain slope is dark and silent.

My stomach lurches like we’re afloat as I cut the headlamps and crawl towards the cabin where Meggie and Amber weresupposed to be enjoying a vacation away from the city. Away from danger.

The door to the cabin is wide open.

I kill the engine and assess the situation. The cabins are all in darkness. There’s no movement, no sound, and we’ve received no signal from the team to alert us to any situation since Ric’s call regarding Amber’s sighting on the cable car ride. So, either my team has chased The Fish to fuck knows where, or he caught them by surprise and ended it before it had even begun.

This team has been with me for years. They’re the best of the best; people I would, and have, trusted with my life. It takes a damn sight more than a fucking fish to end a school of deadly but loyal sharks.

Bruno and I spot the bloody body on the ground between cabins at the same time.

My eyes track the body’s form, the hair comes into focus, and I’m out of the car in a heartbeat.

Not Meggie. It isn’t my Meggie. It can’t be.

Enzo’s reaction on the CCTV footage reemerges behind my eyelids, slowing me down as I run towards the motionless person on the damp grass. He heard something, that much was obvious. He hadn’t discovered Meggie, and he must’ve believed that she was in danger, and that was why he bolted.

Bruno reaches the body first and assures me it isn’t Meggie. Crouching beside her, he checks her vital signs, lowering his face to her mouth despite the blackened patch of blood staining the front of her clothes.

“She’s hanging on. Barely.”

I spot a wad of cloth stuffed into the wound; someone tried to save her. Enzo maybe? She’s a fighter, just like Meggie.