Page 96 of The Man with a Treasure

“Apparently, no one important.”

The VP suddenly roared, “What country are you in?”

“If you keep speaking to me as if I do not have the intelligence to know you are already tracing this call, and know what country I am in, I will hang up.”

“You sure don’t sound Canadian.”

“Aren’t you proving to be a smart one? Let’s see if you can understand this as well. I hear one bike and I will disappear.”

With no self-control, he thundered, “Why didn’t you fucking help her?”

This was good. He wouldn’t have wanted me to help someone he wanted dead. “Because I had an Italian Royal on my hands, you fuck. No time for some biker girl.”

Hatred, which I understood and had dealt with during the years of searching for Scarlett, slithered over the phone toward me. “You and I will have our day.”

I attempted to act bored. “Blind threats and false promises.”

“When I get my hands on you—”

I was done with this asshole. “You will do nothing because I will be gutting you like a pig. And trust me, I know how.”

“Enough!” boomed an authoritative voice. “This is the President of the Steel Stallions.”

I rolled my eyes. “Congratulations.”

The other voice chimed back in, “Listen here, you little Guido.”

I smirked. “And you just lost the address.”

I went to hang up but then heard pain. Raw fucking pain from the President. “Wait! Anything you want. Anything. Name it. I swear it.” Whoever this girl was, they wanted her back. He asked, “Was she alone?”

“Fuck!” That boy who had fought so hard to protect her. “He’s yours, too?”

The President sounded so desperate, speaking fast in case I hung up. “Yes. I’m claiming him, too. He’s ours. Both of them.”

This was more than I had bargained for. I was suddenly seriously regretting my stupidity. “I, uh, will have to call you back—”

“My daughter,” he almost cried out. “She is my daughter. She is our MC Princess.”

My blood set fire. “What is with you fathers not properly guarding your daughters?”

Voices boomed again, defending their President, but he demanded silence, then told me, “It is a grave mistake I will never forgive myself for.”

I thought of Mr. Giordano and how he aged daily for his mistake.

The President assured me, “If I get her back, she will never be in harm’s way again. Name your price. Tell me what you want.”

I was so torn. I wanted that girl rescued but feared it would come back on Scarlett. If her ‘fathers’ had any inclination I was part of ratting them out, they would search high and low. I only had Sal. How could the two of us, with no Suits to help out, stand against only God knew how many? And if Lorenzo got involved, those assholes would have ample amounts of money to hire more hands to locate us. I was quite confident he feared Scarlett recognizing him if she made it home.

A memory of Sal having guns pointed at him by Scarlett’s six other fathers had my eyes slamming shut. I was so overpowered with rage, thinking they could hurt him… Sal.

Oh God. I grabbed my stomach. Scarlett’s possible death, Sal possibly being hurt… It was all wearing me thin. Again, I felt trapped. So, I sneered, “What I want is to stop seeing her fucking eyes pleading for help! But I have a responsibility. I work for—” Of course, I couldn’t reveal that. “Fuck!”

The older man was holding on to his sanity by a thread. I could tell by how his voice warbled. But he was definitely in charge and trying to make the best decisions with what sounded like his only real lead. “You sound like a man under lots of pressure. I understand that.”

I think I was so afraid that I felt I needed to turn to someone for help. I no longer had Mr. Rossi to help me. I went from expert advice and guidance to none.

This President’s in charge mentality actually brought me unexpected comfort. That is the only reason, I think, I confided, “I’m running solo.” If this man was smart enough to understand my meaning, maybe he could give advice. Maybe I could trust him and help him rescue his daughter.