Page 93
Vito nods, his dark face unreadable in the gloom. Rocco cracks his knuckles, an old habit that shows he’s nervous, though he’d never admit to it.
At two seventeen on the dot, we go. The perimeter guard is scrolling through his phone, and the front guards are mid-rotation, so their attention is split. I take point, my suppressed weapon trained forward and my footsteps silent against the gravel littering the ground between the buildings. My wire cutters chew through the chain link in seconds, and then we’re through the gap.
The first guard meets a soundless death when my arm wraps around his throat and my blade finds the space between his ribs. Rocco sneaks behind the second one, smashing a fist into his face and bringing him down with a chokehold. We strip him of his radio and bind him for questioning later.
By the time we reach the second floor, we’ve neutralized three more guards. The building is still silent, its occupants unaware of our presence.
When Rocco and I arrive at an office door, I try the handle first and find it locked. A quick look confirms what I was hoping for. The door is old, with weak hinges, so I drive kick it hard and the wood gives with a crack.
Our prize awaits us.
Jenna wriggles in her restraints, the cloth gag muffling her screams. Her eyes widen with recognition when she understands we’ve come for her. Tears spill down her cheeks, tracking through days-old grime.
“You’re safe.” I hastily cut her bonds. “We’re getting you out of here. Don’t make a sound.”
She nods and complies, though it may be because she’s trembling too violently to speak. She tries to stand, but her legs buckle immediately. Rocco catches her before she hits the floor, then reads the situation with a single look my way. Jenna doesn’t protest when he scoops her up and carries her fireman-style as we swiftly head back the way we came, trying to avoid alerting the other guards.
We’re halfway down the stairs when an alarm slices through the dark with a sharp, industrial screech that bounces off concrete and doubles back on itself.
Someone must have noticed the missing guards.
Shouts echo off the walls, and from their pounding footsteps, I estimate at least eight armed and ready men. We need to get Jenna out of here without fully engaging them. I pivot, covering the retreat, my pistol cracking off shots to suppress their advance.
“Go!” I fire, drop a shooter, then fire again at another one emerging from a side entrance. “I’m right behind you!”
The men coming through the side door wear tactical gear without insignia.
As we burst into the night, the Benedetti vehicles roar to life, their engines shattering the quiet. While the convoy moves out, I take one last look back at the warehouse. In the center of the third-floor window, a figure stands with his hands clasped behind his back. Even at this distance, and even through the darkness, I recognize the posture.
He was here after all.
Bruno Caruso smiles down at me like a man playing a game he’s already rigged.
My blood runs cold.
He issued the ultimatum expecting me to bring Lucia and surrender, but I brought soldiers instead and stole the girl. He’s not stupid and would’ve at least prepared for that scenario. This heist feels almost too easy, almost like…
He let me take Jenna.
The revelation is like a plunge into frigid water. He never intended to keep her. She was the bait, guaranteed to force me to react first and think second. He must have something else in play that I don’t understand yet. But what could be the reason for orchestrating this whole fiasco, just to let us all get away scot-free?
An idea—horrible and writhing deep in my guts—strikes me, and I shout at the drivers to speed back home.
Jenna doesn’t speak. Curled in the back seat of the SUV and cloaked in a thermal blanket someone produced from an emergency kit, she stares at empty air, her body trembling with delayed shock. I sit across from her, not wanting to crowd her, but staying present to show her she’s not alone anymore.
When we reach the compound, Lucia’s waiting at the gate, the grounds quiet around her.
She rushes toward the cars in sweatpants and one of my shirts, her hair a wild tangle, her eyes desperate with a fear I recognize too well. The moment the vehicle stops, she yanks open the door and tugs Jenna into her arms.
“Jenna…Jenna! I’m sorry, so sorry for what you had to go through because of me.”
Jenna finally breaks. She sobs against Lucia’s shoulder in great heaving waves as Lucia rocks her and murmurs words I can’t hear. The sight of the two of them clinging to each other tightens a knot in my chest I didn’t realize I’d tied. One wears borrowed sweatpants, and the other, a soiled thermal blanket.
I give them space, opting to concentrate on coordinating with my men. “I want a team back on that building right now.” I keep my voice low. “Vito, you pick them. I just want eyes. If Bruno’s still there, I want to know where he goes when he leaves.”
Vito nods and reaches for his phone. Jenna and Lucia have broken their hug, so I join them as we head to the guest quarters we’ve prepped. It’s one of the compound’s smaller apartments, but it’s quaint and close to where Lucia and I stay.
Lucia sits on the bed with Jenna’s head in her lap, gently stroking Jenna’s hair while her friend sleeps.
