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The man left, slamming the door behind him and locking it. I stood up and walked to the fence. Grooves in the ceiling and floor secured the top and bottom in place. I wrapped my hands around the cool steel bars and tried to rattle them, but the barrier’s magnificent structural integrity wouldn’t allow it to budge. It was ingenious, really.
Fuckers.
That eliminated some suspects, at least. Some of the people I’d pissed off couldn’t find their way out of a one-way hallway, let alone design something as complex as this basement prison. Unfortunately, it pushed the O’Rileys to the top of the list of suspects. They were excellent machinists. It had to be the Irish, but the masked man wasn’t their don, Seamus, who preferred to be called James.Could it be one of his sons?Who the hell knew? I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough.
The worst part was that the man had left my revolver on the desk, just out of reach behind the fence. I loved that gun, and it physically hurt to see it lying there when I couldn’t reach out and grab it.
I walked back to the wall and slid down it. My thoughts went to Gia. Would she understand I hadn’t disappeared by choice? She had to know I wouldn't abandon her, even though I’d threatened her, told her to leave and find someone else if she wouldn't marry me. I wouldn't have let her, of course, because she was mine. She was too fucking important to let go. Even though I almost had. I thought things would be easier if we were apart. There'd be fewer complications if we could stay away from each other, but there was no way we would. We were addicted to the pleasure we gave one another. Gia let me fuck with her mind in the ways I loved, and I fucked her mind the way she craved.
We were perfect. A little toxic, but that never hurt anyone.
Except Silvio. Bullseye. Jameson.
I’d spent my whole life hurting people, and Gia was the one person I didn't want to hurt. Not like that, at least.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Gia
“I’m telling you, Marco, something is wrong!” I stepped in his path, blocking him from leaving the kitchen.
His dark eyes narrowed on me. “Goddamn it, girl. He does this. You two fight, and he runs off, as he has a tendency to do.”
Enzo would leave for a little while to cool off, sure, but healwayscame back. And if he was talking about when Enzo went upstate, did he forget I was there, too? He wouldn’t have gone withoutme.
“Will you just listen to me, Marco? It has to be the goddamn O’Rileys. They were the ones who shot at us!”
“How do you know?”
I swallowed. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I just...it has to be them.”
“Enzo has plenty of enemies,” Marco snapped as he pushed past me.
“How are you so cavalier about this? He’s your brother!” I called as he walked away.
He didn’t respond, and he seemed like he couldn’t care less. It was maddening. If Enzo wasn’t home by the time it got dark, I would talk to my father. He wouldn’t care what happened to Enzo, but he cared aboutme, and maybe that would help.
Time ticked by, slow and dreadful. My mind raced. Was Enzo still alive? Was I chasing his ghost?
I dug through Enzo’s drawers, trying to find anything that might give me a clue. I most wanted to find the address to the Irish pricks. It wouldn’t be in with his deodorant and socks. I vaguely remembered the location of Jameson’s shop upstate. I’d remember if it was in front of my face, but not the way to get there. I caught a glimpse of something that made me look twice—a black cellphone, flat against the wall of the drawer. I picked it up, half expecting it to be a secret phone. It was worse. It was Bullseye’s fucking phone, the one I told him to throw in the river. I knew it was his because there was a big crack in the screen from Bullseye landing on it after Enzo shot him. A bullseye decal branded the back, and their family business logo sat in the corner. Yeah, it was his damn phone.
I pocketed the phone. Atheist whined before dropping his head to my lap. “I know, boy, I miss him, too. I’ll find him.” I would try to find him. No, Iwouldfind him. I just wasn’t sure if he’d be dead or alive. I patted Atheist’s silky head before getting up and putting on my jacket.
* * *
I pulledup to my father’s home. My home, though it felt less like it lately. I waved away guards as I pulled my car into the garage. My throat seemed to close up, as if warning me against this, but what choice did I have? If Enzo’s piece of shit brother didn’t care to help him, how did I expect my father to? He’d be aiding our relationship, which was something he didn’t believe in. This was the solution to my father’s problem, yet there I was, asking him to let go of animosity and years of rivalry to help me find Enzo. He’d happily let the problem sort itself out, even if it broke my heart.
A guard stopped me at the door leading into the house from the garage by putting the barrel of his rifle in my path. I gripped it and pushed it away from me. “Fuck off,” I snarled. He knew who I was. He knew I was still part of this family, even if I was fucking the enemy.
With purpose-filled steps, I walked down the long hallway and grabbed the doorknob, inhaling a deep breath before opening the door. I knew my father would be there because he did his best business once darkness fell and the house was quiet.
I spotted his salt-and-pepper hair creeping over the back of his chair. The door slammed behind me, forcing his attention my way. His face was equal parts happiness and disappointment. I was certain he never thought he’d see me fall for a rival in his lifetime. He probably hoped he’d be long dead before a travesty of that magnitude occurred.
“Daddy,” I said as I walked toward him.
His face softened with every step, as if he recognized me a little more the closer I got to him. It was a draw I knew he couldn’t overlook. I leaned into him and breathed in his scent. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around me.
“You wouldn’t come to me unless something was wrong,” he said as he lifted my chin to look into my eyes.
