There are so many ways this could go wrong—I can’t even count them all. But staying here, waiting for my fate to be decided, is intolerable. A bad plan is better than none at all.
Enzo scoffs. “Did you ask for his number? How’s he supposed to know? We don’t advertise what we’re doing to the fucking Russians.”
I play another risky card. “You don’t have to advertise anything. They have a mole.”
Another surprised silence follows. All three of my brothers are staring at Salvatore.
“Who?” my father barks.
“I don’t know. He never mentioned a name. I just know he was getting information. That’s how they knew I’d run, he said. So, if you move me somewhere and make sure all your men know about it, he will too. Then you can get your precious drive back.”
“You’re offering yourself up as bait? How selfless, sister,” Leo drawls.
I fix him with a hard stare. “I was scared. I didn’t want to marry a stranger. I ran, and I took the drive so I had something to bargain with. But I never meant for anything else to happen. I want to help make it right. That man … took me.” There’s a natural waver to my voice when I refer to Lev, one I hope they’ll interpret as negative emotion. “I don’t want him to have whatever is on that drive. I am a Caruso too. I won’t be alone this time. Unless you’re worried you won’t be able to handle the Russians … why would I be worried? I’ll besafebait.”
Predictably, they all bristle at the implication they’ll be outmatched. Some male impulses are useful.
“What if he doesn’t bring the drive?” Luca asks. “There’s no reason for him to.”
“Then grab him and make him tell you where it is,” I suggest.
Enzo laughs. “Grab Lev fucking Sokolov? We might as well declare war.”
“Do you have a better idea?” I demand.
Silence answers for him.
“Where are we supposed to take you?” Luca says.
I exhale, not having to fake the exhaustion in the sigh. I’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours. During that stretch, I killed someone, said a final goodbye to the guy I’d been in love with for a decade, and was abducted by my psychotic potential fiancé.
“I don’t know,” I say wearily. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
I’m not sure I should have told them anything. I could have lied—said a pickpocket took the flash drive on the train to Paris, tried to escape at the first opportunity, and prayed it was successful. Too late now.
“Get her out of here,” Salvatore instructs, nodding to me, as if there were more than oneherin the room.
“I don’t need an escort,” I state.
I might not have spent much time in the house, but I know the way from Salvatore’s office to the bedroom I occupied last week.
“You have one,” my father states coldly. “It was stupid to run, Carina. You’ve made everything worse for yourself. And if you try to run again …” He lets his voice trail threateningly.
I suppress a shiver, tempted to touch my cheek. It feels hot and puffy, so it must be swelling.
I’m not in control. I have no gun to bluff my way out of here. The papers and money Lev gave me were left on the airportshuttle, undoubtedly in the bin of an Irish lost-and-found by now. If I do manage to escape again, it’ll be harder to hide away.
I swallow hard, nod, then follow Luca into the hallway.
TRUST ISSUES
The plane is silent. Full of unspoken questions, but silent.
I stare out the oval window, mentally recounting the limited information Igor shared this morning. I can picture the disappointed shake of his head perfectly. He’d be far more disappointed if he knew I’d let Carina go before her family found her.
Found.
That was the word Igor used. It’s innocuous. Normally, found is good. But if Carina was correct about the contents of the drive she gave me, her family will be furious. Andrea told Igor they were shipping her to Spain until the wedding to Nico Morello. A decision that makes no sense and only increases my concern.
