AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I slammed my fist into the wall of my office, doing my fist more damage than the wall.Fuck, again.My worry about Ginevra distracted me from what I did best, scare the shit out of people, torture them, then kill them. Every time I thought of her, scared and alone, murderous rage washed through me.
I was questioning Declan when my phone pinged with that damnable photo. I lost it. He didn’t flinch when I held the knife to his throat. He’d let those assholes into my club and he deserved whatever I gave him.
The only thing that saved me from murdering him was Lorenzo, who’d drawn his gun and held it to my head. “This isn’t helping Ginevra, Liam,” he said, his voice slow and soothing.
As strong as the urge was to bathe in blood, Lorenzo was right. I sheathed my knife. Declan exhaled sharply, and I spun around and decked him in the jaw. “Asshole,” I swore at him.
He raised his hands. “I let them in. I’ll help get her back.”
We’d gone over every second of video, sending as many images to Cormac as we could. We had a photo of the car, a couple of shots of the Russian’s faces, and one too many pictures of Ginevra struggling and trying to get free as her captors fucking kidnapped her.
“That doesn’t help either,” Lorenzo said as I watched them take her again, and again, and again, as if doing so would help me discern enough detail that I could miraculously find her. I tamped down on the itch to kill him for daring to correct me. Like he said, not helpful. Nothing was more important than finding Ginevra and getting her back.
That woman. We’d known her a goddamned week, and she’d wormed her way into my heart. I’d stopped believing in God a long time ago, but at that moment, I prayed for Ginevra.
Bring her home. Please.
My phone dinged.
Rian: Someone set the Russo warehouses on fire.
Fuck.
Cormac: Checking our feeds now.
Cormac: Our buildings are okay.
Lorenzo’s phone rang. After a hurried conversation, he looked at me. “I gotta go.”
“The warehouses?”
He nodded. It had to be connected. “I’ll go with you.”
On my way out, I clapped Declan on the back. “You’re alive because you’re good at your job.”
He looked at me with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. My attempted murder hadn’t fazed him at all. That’s what I liked about him. “Is that an apology for threatening to cut my throat?”
I frowned. “No. I’m explaining why I didn’t kill you. The Russo warehouses are on fire, and they’re about to send their men out to investigate. We need to augment the security on their house right now. Patti and Sofia are targets too.”
He nodded, his blond hair falling into his face. “I knew what I was getting into when I signed up to work for the Butcher.”
“Good. If something happens to those women, your usefulness won’t save you. Do you understand?”
Declan’s answering nod was sharp. “Got it, boss.”
By the timewe arrived at the port, the fire department arrived. The tires of Lorenzo’s sports car squealed as he slammed on the brakes and stopped in front of the burning warehouse. Flames licked the roof, but didn’t appear to be spreading to neighboring buildings.
We climbed out of the car, both of us breathing a sigh of relief when we straightened our long limbs. Why did he have such a ridiculous vehicle, anyway?Compensation, I thought to myself with a bark of laughter. No, that was unfair. Lorenzo was trustworthy, and I liked him.
“Nothing but agricultural products and foodstuffs in there,” he said as we leaned on the car, watching the trucks spray the building down. “Wheat from Eastern Europe, liquor from Italy—so much liquor and vinegar. All really fucking flammable.”
None of it would be salvageable. Just like that, millions of dollars, literally up in smoke. Lorenzo’s men’s preliminary inspection revealed no injuries. No way this wasn’t related to Ginevra’s kidnapping. The timing was too perfect, and Alexi had the means.
A police officer strode to where I stood, watching the spectacle. Lorenzo melted into the pre-dawn light to poke around the port and seek witnesses that might not come forward to the police.
“Sir, I’m Officer Christopher Ramos,” he introduced himself, sticking out his hand for me to shake.
I stared at the short black man and let the moment draw out uncomfortably. “I’m Liam Byrne. I represent the owner.”
