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Chapter Three - Luca
Why did I leave her alone? What the fuck was I thinking, leaving her alone here? Like leaving a lamb among the wolves. She was my fucking responsibility, and I dropped the ball.
And now, we have to walk around the compound, pretending nothing is wrong so as not to disturb the party. “You understand,” Paul keeps saying again and again. And I do—I was raised this way, in a world where the men do everything they can to shield our women from the reality of what goes into our business. Talia doesn’t deserve to have her party ruined all because I was too stupid to keep Delilah close.
“Sir, we found something.”
I turn away from the bar in Paul’s study, where I’ve just finished pouring myself a healthy tumbler of whiskey in hopes of calming my nerves. What do I expect to see? A shoe? A body part?
The tuxedoed guard who just walked into the room holds an earring in his palm. “Where was this?” I asked, taking it from him. Now I have the pair, if not the woman who wore them.
“Outside the door leading from the kitchen.” So she was trying to send me a hint, after all. She needs me. She’s probably desperate for help, and what am I doing? Drinking in Paul Giordano’s study while a party rages on outside the door.
For the past year, I’ve considered the night my family was killed to be the most surreal experience of my life. There are still times I can’t believe it happened, times when I expect to see Mom hurrying from one part of the house to another—she never walked like a regular person, something Sera used to tease her about.There goes Mom, training for the fifty-yard dash. She was so energetic, always coming up with ideas and projects for the house, always in a rush to make something happen. Sera took after her.
There are still moments when it hits me like a cannonball to my gut. I’ll never see them again.
I’m having another one of those surreal moments now. Closing my fingers around the cold earring, I mutter, “Thank you,” ignoring the tightness in my throat. Of all things I could’ve anticipated this evening, a kidnapping was so far down the list it might as well have fallen off.
“This is unacceptable.” Paul’s coloring goes from an angry red to an almost alarming purple as he storms over to the guard who delivered the earring. “What the fuck are you doing out there that somebody was able to force this girl out of the house without anybody noticing? What are you here for?”
I have no choice but to ignore my baser impulse to dogpile on the guy. “Sir, I’m sure it isn’t their fault. Whoever the guy was, he knew better than to let her signal for help.” Though I have to wonder what he must’ve threatened her with. The girl doesn’t usually have a problem running her mouth.
Paul dismisses the guard with a wave, snarling. “Get back out there and find that girl. I want every inch of the grounds covered. But for God’s sake,” he added in a menacing tone, “make sure the guests aren’t aware. And especially not Mrs. Giordano.”
Another touch of surrealism. There’s still a party going on outside the study. Laughter, drinking, dancing, probably a little fooling around in dark, empty rooms.
While my world insists on spinning out of control and none of them know about it.
“Too many sharp eyes around here,” Paul mutters, gazing down the hall, raising a hand in greeting to someone I can’t see. “I don’t need the women finding out this is happening.”
“I’m sorry this had to get in the way of your evening, Sir.” Why should I apologize? It seems like I ought to say something, and he doesn’t need to hear the vile, vicious shit running through my head. How I want that son of a bitch strapped to a table so I can slice off his dick while he watches. Whoever he is, he took what belongs to me. He will suffer.
The trick will be finding him before he hurts her—or worse.
“Sir.” There’s a brief knock at the door before it opens again to reveal Beckett, now accompanied by Jock. Our eyes meet for a beat before he turns his attention to the host. Beckett steps aside so Jock can shake his boss’s hand.
“Jock. Good to see you. I wish it was under different circumstances.” Paul offers him a drink, which he declines as always before looking at me, brows lifted in silent interest.
Beckett clears his throat. “Sir, the surveillance team has isolated the footage from around the time Mr. Bruno visited the study.” He steps up behind Paul’s open Macbook and pulls up the feed for the four of us to watch.
It flips back and forth from one camera’s feed to another. There’s a shot of the front of the house, where there were too many guards and guests milling around to get away with a kidnapping like this. Even if Delilah stayed silent and pretended everything was fine, nobody with half a clue what they were doing would’ve taken such a risk.
The next camera looked over the back patio, also full of people. He wouldn’t take her that way, either.
But I see him. “That guy,” I announce, jabbing my finger toward the image. Only the top of his head is visible, but I’d know him anywhere. “Look for him in the footage. He’s the one who was staring at us before I first came in here.”
“Have you seen him since?” Beckett strokes his jaw, leaning in close to get a better look.
“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t blame him for this.”
“I’m sorry,” he’s quick to murmur, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I have to ask.”
“Of course.” Though it was a stupid question, just the same. I don’t have time for stupid questions. None of us do. “He wasn’t out there anymore while I looked for Delilah. I would’ve noticed.”
“Describe him,” Jock suggests.
“Tall, stocky build, blond hair cut short. Ruddy complexion.” The feed flips to another location, this time showing us the side of the house.
