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He shakes his head slowly, in no hurry to do what he needs to do. But the longer we stall, the better.
Fynn will be looking for me by now.
I know it like I’m breathing air.
He cocks his head. “Better the devil you know than the one you don’t.”
25
FYNN
I stareat the camera as Roberto, the cousin I thought was dead only ten minutes ago, exits the elevator on the ground floor parking lot. He has Sage in his grasp and she’s trying to wriggle free.
I don’t even hesitate, I run for the door, almost tripping over myself as I hear Angelo calling behind me.
I slam my hand on the elevator button repeatedly, cursing and swearing as I wait for it to arrive.
“Fynn!” Angelo calls, catching up to me.
“Don’t try to stop me, Angelo. I know this is what he wants, but I don’t care. I need to get her back.”
“Just reason with me for ten more seconds,” he says.
Just as he does, the elevator opens and Darko and Rocco step out.
I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.
“Bad news, boss,” Rocco says, looking straight at Angelo.
“Can it wait? We have a situation here.”
Darko and Rocco both frown. “We have a situation down in the parking garage, too.”
“No shit!” I interject, trying to push past them to get to the elevator.
“No!” Angelo says, just as Roc grabs me.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I yell at him.
“It’s a trap!” Angelo yells. “It’s what he wants. Trust me on this.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Darko, who never says anything, blurts out.
“Sage has been kidnapped, and Roberto has her in the parking garage,” Angelo says.
Rocco turns to look at him. “Roberto?”
“Yes! Fucking Roberto!” Angelo yells. “Somehow, he’s not fucking dead. He’s right here in our fucking hotel, ready to probably blow up the casino!”
Rocco pauses, as if trying to let all of that sink in. Then he says, “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but we intercepted a car loaded with explosives, so that idea isn’t far off. There’re also traces of tear gas in the garage.”
Angelo looks at me pointedly. “He’s going to fucking tear gas the basement so we can’t follow him.”
“Tear gas? Explosives?” I trail off, horrified.
“Luckily, I built a bombproof parking garage,” Angelo mutters as Rocco still holds onto my shirt. “Not that he would know that.”
I run my hands through my hair. “What the fuck is going on?”
