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“Got it, send it over. I’ll have the draft back to you within an hour,” Cassie says.
Best damn decision Brian made as far as paparazzi control, and I know Chase is contemplating using her skills as well. She could seriously hire a few folks under her and coach them up, but right now she does everything herself.
I sign back into the monitors. Brian’s on ice in case we need him to make a monetary exchange. Sasha’s being held in case we need to make a physical transfer, but I also know who we’re dealing with, and the fact that the head of the mafia has kept his daughter silent means there’s a reason. One that we can use to our advantage or that could be incredibly dangerous for everyone involved.
I also know that once we cross that damn line, nothing we do can ever go back to the same. It takes a while to put safeguards in place to ensure this won’t blow back on Brian and Chase if shit heads south. After multiple calls with the various teams, I’m finally comfortable that they are each sufficiently out of the downstream blow, but either way, our teams are in for a long fucking night. I continue to work on the plan for trading money with Bernatelli, but with the arrest of Nick, his Chicago enforcer, for the brutal murder of Ty Channing, Jenny Torzial’s ex, he’s not taking any chances. We are deciphering additional intel Matt has uploaded to our shared site, and that may be the only fucking way I get them both out of this alive, but first, we need to make sense of the shit he’s shared. The intel we have bars none, and I have no doubt they’ll put it together, but it’s a matter of how quick they can do it because time is running out.
I’m watching Sasha on the cam from my phone, and she looks pissed and nervous. She’s had an emotionally charged morning, an even rougher afternoon, and unfortunately for her, things are about to get a hell of a lot harder.
8
SASHA
I’m just aboutto tell them to let me out on the corner and that I will spare them the trouble of having the mafia up their ass if they do, but the burly guy with the ski mask turns as if sensing my attitude. “Sit tight, and you might just make it through the night.”
The comfort I had that at least Brian was with me was short lived as they separated us and threw a long black hood over his head and marched him out of the door cursing. When it was my turn, I thought I would get the hood, too, but instead, I was pushed none too gently out the back of the restaurant and into the sleek long limo.
I scan the street up and down. It looks completely deserted. Too bad, because my father would bring hell down on anyone that kidnapped someone on their turf without cutting a deal with him first. All the ladies have apparently already partnered up with johns this evening because the typically busy street is not drawing the usual vehicles, the ones that usually slow to a crawl while checking out the offerings.
It makes my blood grow cold. Does my father know? Is he watching and has he choreographed the scene playing out before us to draw my kidnappers in? Is he out there and will he protect me?
If so, whoever we’re dealing with, people that would dare take Brian, are incredibly dangerous. My hands are cuffed tightly behind my back, but they’ve forgotten one thing. I am a ballerina, one known for the most flexible poses in the world, and they have left me alone in the backseat of a slow-moving vehicle.
I arch my back and slide my neck side to side, working out the stiffness and stretching. My hands move to the cell phone they’ve left in my back pocket, and when they glance over at me, I arch my body again. One guy’s eyes drop to my breasts which have jutted out indecently, but he barely glances before unexpectedly turning away, beginning to talk with the driver in front, instead of watching me.
This moment of chivalry, when most men in their position would be taking advantage of the view, gives me just enough time to slide my hands underneath my butt, inch my way back to position them underneath my upper thighs. Another glance at the men, and then in one slow movement I am able to bring my legs up and slip my legs through my arms and then quietly unbuckle my belt.
Now I wait, and the streetlight ahead turns yellow. The car is going to have to stop, and I ready myself as it does, breathing in deeply, knowing what I need to do to make it away from the vehicle.
I twist my body to the left and prepare myself. “Hey you, asshole,” I say, and the man sitting in front of me in the passenger seat turns. I use all the strength of my core to send the blunt force of my elbow right into the man’s eye socket, pull the lever to disengage the locks which are standard issue for secure limos, and drop roll out onto the street before the driver can even stop the car.
I pick myself up and tear off. I’ve combed these parts of the city, my father’s territory, for years, getting to know it and the man behind the legend better than I should. I head for the nearest alley, which I know connects to a multitude of side streets that I can get lost in, and that won’t always allow for the width of a car, especially a Lincoln like the one I just jumped out of.
We’re in the neighborhood my father controls. The men in question are after me and want to negotiate an exchange with him for me. What better time to see if he wants to acknowledge me or get to know me when he finds out that I’m bringing him information about the very people that mean to do him harm, and what a perfect way to find out what happened to my sister and Matt and see if there’s a possibility to save them. I hit the voice recognition button on my phone. “Call Daddy.”
The phone rings and rings and just when I think no one will pick up, finally a raspy male voice answers. “Sasha, why are you calling me?”
The assailant covers my mouth with one hand and pulls the phone from my grip. My body recognizes his before I even hear his voice. “She’s calling you because she’s been kidnapped. Unfortunately, our first plan, the one that was to cut her up, finger by finger, bone by bone, and send her digits each day until you paid us a handsome ransom for your little girl became ineffective when we learned you don’t even claim her. A beautiful little Russian angel that you produced. What slimeball doesn’t acknowledge his own beautiful baby girl?”
“She’s not my daughter,” my father says, but Jay cuts him off.
“Unfortunately for you, your DNA says otherwise. In fact, it’s a 99.9 percent match and you can’t get much better than that. So, it looks like the game has changed. You’ll receive instructions if you want to keep her your dirty little secret, and I’ll be fair,” Jay says into the phone, holding me tightly to prevent me from escaping.
“Tell me now. What do you want?” my father says.
“You currently have Jenny Torzial on your want list. She was an unknowing participant in the laundering of your money by Dominic Mancini. Ty Channing, Jenny’s boyfriend at the time, was helping Dominic launder Torzial Consulting, but she knew nothing. As best friends of Katarina Prestian, daughter of Carlos Larussio, and granddaughter to the Italian Mafia, Jenny is more like family and completely protected. If you want a war, you’ll have one,” Jay says.
“You’ve made your point. Consider Ms. Torzial off the list, but you make sure Sasha wipes me from her record, her cell, and her goddamn life,” and my jaw tenses and my heart constricts painfully as I hear those words from my father. I am unable to control the tears streaming from my eyes. I don’t know why I thought that tonight would be different and he may be willing to acknowledge me as his daughter.
“It will be done, but you consider her and Jenny both highly protected by the family going forward. There’s one more thing,” I hear Jay saying. “We want Prez back. We know it’s a big ask, and in addition to our silence we’re willing to compensate you well, but he walks away and doesn’t go on the list.”
“He knows too much.”
“And it’s been documented well, along with you and your daughter’s DNA. We need him back. Unless, of course, your family is ready to accept her into the fold,” Jay counters, not giving even an inch.
There is a heavy sigh on the other end. “I’ll allow it if it’s not too late, but I can’t promise that it isn’t.”
“You make that call right now, and there’s ten more million clear in it for you,” Jay says.
