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“How do you know?”
He squeezed my shoulder, then rewound the scene to where the biggest of them had thrown Ginevra over his shoulder. The tattoos on his hand were clear. Local Bratva.
Fucking hell. What had Alexi done?
I slammed my fist on the desk, sending papers and Liam’s office detritus flying.
When Liam looked up at me, his eyes were bleak. “We’re going to get her back.”
Cormac’s deep brown eyes flicked up to Liam and then me. “And then we’re going to burn this city to the fucking ground. Nobody will ever hurt her again.”
Nikolai’s voicewas tired on the phone. “I don’t have your daughter, Antonio Russo.”
“That’s what you said twelve years ago,” Antonio answered, clenching his fists on his desk as he spoke with the head of the Yorkfield Bratva on speakerphone. “And yet, twelve years ago, I had to storm your father’s house to steal my daughter back. Do you remember how many Russians I killed in retribution?”
“Twelve,” Nikolai said.
“That’s right,” Antonio agreed. “Twelve. Two nights ago, I signed contracts binding my family to the Irish so I could pay you back the ten million dollars you invested in a luxury apartment building that hasn’t been completed.”
“I don’t have your daughter!” Nikolai finally roared through the phone.
I stepped up to the desk and held my hand out for Antonio’s phone. To my surprise, he handed it to me without question. “Your men do. Alexi Marino and two Russians with Bratva tattoos on their hands took her from Liam’s club tonight. Antonio might not be willing to go to war over his daughter, but we sure as fuck will over our goddamned wife.”
Nikolai was silent. “This sounds like it’s as much a problem within your family as mine. Give me seventy-two hours.”
Three days? He wanted us to waitthree daysfor news of Ginevra?
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If you haven’t returned her by then, the streets will run red with Russian blood. Do you understand me?” I didn’t wait for an answer before hanging up.
Cormac was in his office, doing what he did best, tracking down information on the Internet. Liam was out on the streets with Lorenzo and our combined security teams, his bloodlust on hold only because his desperation to find her outweighed his need to punish those who took her. If Alexi and the Bratva were ready to risk dealing with the Butcher of Cork, then I was going to let Liam off the fucking leash so he could bathe in their blood.
Antonio and I stared at each other over his desk. “Out! Everyone out!” he shouted. The crowd of Russos exited the room. “You promised me you’d protect my daughter,” he said to me, pouring me a scotch and sliding it across the desk to me.
“I didn’t expect to be protecting her from your goddamned head of security,” I snapped right back at him.
Antonio slumped down in his chair. “I should have known.”
Yeah, he fucking should have. The Russo operation was a goddamned mess, and Antonio could have prevented all of this if he’d moved with the times, modernized his books, fucking did anything but take Alexi at his word, again and again and again.
When Ginevra’s father looked back at me, his face had hardened into determination and fury. “Alexi’s a dead man.”
Outside of the house, I stared into the Russo’s perfectly manicured lawn, resisting the urge to pull out my phone to beg Cormac and Liam for updates. They’d contact me as soon as they had a lead and nagging wouldn’t help.
The bastards had grabbed Ginevra just after midnight. Dawn was approaching, and with it, the knowledge that I’d completely and utterly failed her. I ran my hands through my hair, then down my face.
My phone dinged. When I thumbed it open, a photo of Ginevra popped up, still in that gold dress, her hair matted and messy, bound to a chair with her legs spread and those fucking red panties on display.
Cormac’s name popped up next. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “The photo taken with a pre-wifi digital camera, looks like a burner number. It’s going to take a while to analyze it.”
Fuck.
28
LIAM
Lorenzo and I interviewed every goddamn employee at the club last night and we didn’t learn a goddamn thing except that the girls were curious about Ginevra, and that my bartender was giving away free drinks when he shouldn’t be.
Fuck.
