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I screamed as I slammed the call button. I bashed it over and over as Oscar came around the corner, wheezing, his face bright red.
“I’ll kill you,” he said, his voice a mangled choke. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Come on,” I said, slamming the button. “Come on, god damn you, come on!”
Oscar got closer. He staggered, glaring like a madman, and the elevator door dinged. It slid open. I dove inside and hit the close button.
He grabbed the edge and the doors wouldn’t shut. I leaned back against the wall and kicked him in the wrist as hard as I could, screaming. He roared in pain and stumbled back. I hit the close button again, and this time the doors slid shut.
The elevator descended.
I stood alone in the silence and could only hear the race of my heart in my ears. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Blood seeped down my leg.
My life was over.
Oscar would never forgive that. He’d kill me now. He’d tell my father about what I’d done over the years, and my father would murder me in front of the rest of the cartel as an example. He’d mutilate me, destroy me, and make me suffer.
I didn’t know what to do. The elevator slid down to the basement parking lot. I had to find Carmine. Maybe Carmine could help. My father was strong, but maybe Carmine was stronger.
I stumbled out, looking around wildly, and saw a lone black van parked across from the elevator doors.
The back slid open, and two men stepped out.
They stared at me. I stared back, acutely aware of the blood running down my leg.
One of them was tall and muscular. He had black hair and dark eyes, and tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. The man next to him was slightly shorter, but stocky and muscular.
“Are you Julieta Suarez?” the tattooed man asked.
I gaped and nodded.
He looked at his associate. “Grab her,” he said without any apparent expression. “Bring her.”
“Wait, what are you—”
I barely got the words out before the hulking monster walked over and took something black from his pocket. “Nothing personal, love,” he said.
I turned to run, but my leg nearly gave out. I gasped as he caught me, wrenched an arm behind my back—
And pulled a black bag over my head, plunging me into darkness.
The man leaned in close. “Sorry about this. Whatever Nervosa says goes.”
He yanked me to the van, threw me inside, and we were moving.
Chapter 16
Carmine
I spent half the day getting my guys ready to move on a big offensive. Killing Harry was over the line, and Balestra and Cezary would pay for it. Mal and Cap and I talked strategy all afternoon and got our muscle into position, but we needed more time to plan out exactly how it would go.
I headed home. The parking lot was quiet. I took the elevator up and frowned at several specks of blood on the floor.
The doors slid open and I stood, staring into my apartment.
Blood flecked the floor. They were small specks, but clearly visible. Someone had been running with a bleeding wound.
I stepped gingerly over the blood trail and went into the living room. The couches were slashed open. The lamps were thrown on the floor and smashed. The glass coffee table had been shattered, and priceless paintings were ripped to shreds. One burned in the fireplace.
The kitchen was a wreck too. Pots and pans smashed. Plates broken.
And more blood on the tile.
“Jules?” I shouted, my hackles raised.
Quiet. Nothing.
I walked toward the back. Her room was empty but untouched. It looked like it had when I’d left in the morning.
My room was another story. My drawers were ripped through, my mattress slashed, my sheets and pillows shredded, and my closet was rifled through. I checked my stash of cash and found it’d all been taken, along with a couple guns, and half my watch collection.
Someone robbed me. But that couldn’t be right.
“Jules!” I took out my phone and called her. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. I sent her a quick text: call as soon as you get this. I dialed her a second time and nothing.
I called Mal next.
“You can’t get enough of hearing my voice, can you?” Mal sounded like he was smiling.
“Sorry, big guy, but something’s wrong. Jules is missing and my apartment looks like someone went berserk on all my stuff.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You need to call the guys. Tell them to start looking for Jules right away, and track down her bodyguard, that guy Oscar. There’s blood on my floor, Mal.”
“I’ll get on it right now. We’ll find her.” He hung up.
I leaned against my dresser and felt sick.
What the hell happened here? It looked like a normal robbery, but that couldn’t be right. Nobody in their right mind would break into my apartment and steal my stuff, and besides, the only people with access were Oscar and Jules. They were both missing, and the blood suggested some kind of struggle.
