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“No, I need to find her. I need to find them. Stop the fucking car!” I scream, banging at the window. “I’m going to make sure my husband tortures you slowly. In fact, I might even watch. Let me the fuck outnow!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We will find them. But first, we need to get you to the estate. We need to protect you—it’s protocol.”
Protect me? My fucking twin sister is gone. What the fuck? I don’t care about my protection. I need to find her. As soon as I can get my hands on a gun, I swear to all that is holy, I’m shooting these idiots.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Ican’t believe I’m in New York City. I can’t believe that this is Holly’s life now. She’s no longer the shy, timid twin sister, following in my shadow. No, now she is a fucking queen. I couldn’t be prouder of how far she has come out of her shell and into her own over the last few months. Would I have preferred that she had fallen in love with someone quiet? Safe? Like another school teacher or maybe a banker? Yes. Because then I wouldn’t have to wake up bloody worrying about her every day.
I’ve never seen her happier though. And I would never want to take that away from her. She is my rock, my ride or die. I’ll do anything for her, as she would for me. I won’t forget the months she sat with me at Bray’s bedside while he was in a coma. Or the way she dusted herself off and took care of me and Mum after our dad went to prison.
She’s always been the stronger of us two. Most people would never believe that. They would assume that because I am the more outspoken, lively twin, I’m somehow tougher. Braver. But Holly, she’s never been afraid to chase after what she wants.
And now, she has everything she’s ever dreamed of. A husband, who fucking idolizes the ground she walks on. A baby on the way. Albeit, she did get more than she bargained for with this whole “my husband’s a mob boss” thing she has going on.
I look up and down the street. Holly’s just run into the bathroom. I can tell she’s sick. I’m starting to feel nauseous myself. “I’m going to put this in the car, and I’ll go check on Hol,” I tell Angelica. I’m opening the door to the Maserati and that’s when I feel it. Something cold and metal pressed to the back of my head. I freeze.
“Step away from the car, Mrs. Valentino. We’re going to take a little trip.” I nod my head, letting them think I’m my twin, while praying that she stays in that bathroom long enough to remain unseen. I turn around slowly. Angelica has a gun pointed at her head as well. She winks at me and smirks. Is she fucking crazy? Why the hell is she smirking?
We’re led to a van. Yep, predictable. It’s how every crazy serial killer story goes: The girl was abducted in a white van…I can’t help but laugh when we’re shoved inside and the door locks.
Angelica starts yelling something in Italian. I think I’m still in shock. Is this actually happening right now? They were going to do this to my sister… I would much rather it be me instead. “Angelica, calm down. How the hell do we get out of here?” I hiss.
“We don’t. We wait. We let them take us to wherever they’re taking us, and we wait. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, Holly.” And her lips curl again. Yep, definitely crazy…
“Right, we’ve been abducted at gunpoint but don’t worry. Sorry, mate, it’s a little fucking bloody hard not to worry right now.”
“Trust me,” she whispers before issuing her threats, “Do you have any idea who I am, idiots? When my father finds out about this, you’ll be sorry. He won’t just kill you; he’ll keep you alive for months. Torture you every fucking day, until he finally gets bored of hearing you scream. Then, when he does decide to end your miserable lives, your last words will be thanking him for the final act of mercy.”
A window at the front of the van opens. “Daddy can’t save you now, sweetheart. Whoever the fuck your daddy is.” A thick Irish accent laughs back at us.
“You don’t know that I’m Angelica Donatello? That my father’s Al Donatello?” She smirks as the man’s face visibly pales. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Why does her father’s name incite so much fear? I thought my brother-in-law was meant to be some big-time mob boss, and these clowns clearly had no problem abducting his wife.
“He never said anything about her being a Donatello. Fuck, man, do you really wanna do this?” We don’t hear the response as the window’s slammed shut again. After about thirty minutes of a cold, bumpy ride, the van comes to a stop and the doors open. I have to squint as the blinding sunlight streams in.
“Out, now.”
Angelica gives my hand a little squeeze as we climb out. We’re greeted by some mean-looking redheaded guy.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet ya. The legendary Mrs. Valentino. The siren who hooked Theo in just a few weeks.” His grimy fingers run down my face.
“The woman who’s going to cut your bloody hand off if you touch me again,” I yell, which only earns me a slap across the face. I can’t help my knee-jerk reaction. My literal knee jerk, as my knee connects with his balls and he bends over in pain. I smirk. That’ll teach him to fucking hit me.
A moment later, he’s straightening. “Feisty. I’m going to love fucking the fight out of you. But not here. Let’s go say hello to your husband. I want him to watch the show before I kill the little Italian fucker.”
I can’t help the panic that courses through me. I don’t know how the hell I will survive this. I glance to my side, and one look at Angelica puts me at ease a little. She’s not worried at all. If anything, she appears… bored.
We’re led into a building by the Irishman and his sore balls. I don’t have to turn around to know there’s a gun pointed at my head again. I can bloody feel the metal digging into my skull. Every self-defense move Bray has ever taught me runs through my mind. But am I actually good enough to pull any of them off? I don’t know.
We enter a damp room, and I come face-to-face with Theo. The wild look in his eyes as they land on us doesn’t last long, and something else crosses his face. Recognition. He knows I’m not Holly. Is that a good thing or not? Will he fight as hard to helpme? What the hell am I thinking? He can’t help me… He’s tied to a fucking chair. Some big, tough mob boss he’s meant to be.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Holly
As soon as the car stops in front of the house, I’m storming through the doors, cursing the two soldiers who trail behind me. I’m on a mission. There has to be a weapon around here somewhere. I’m opening and shutting the drawers in the foyer—okay, maybe more like slamming them. I run my hands on the underside of the hall tables and then I feel it. A small gun taped to the wood paneling. I remove the tape and pray that the thing’s actually loaded.
