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“Worked with him?” Heather’s forehead furrows. “How?”
I watch sympathetically as Nero swallows the thick lump in his throat. It’s no small thing to have what you think you know about someone changed so dramatically. And so suddenly.
“Allegedly, they were trafficking young women and children out of the ports in the city.”
She gasps.
He continues, “And, apparently, the man he worked with now has abducted Cat.”
“Oh my god.” Heather’s wild eyes swing to mine. “Do the police know? Who’s searching for her?”
“I have men on it.”
“And the police?” Nero asks.
“The commissioner is waiting to hear from me. His men won’t act until he does.” Yet another favor I’ll owe Gasso when this is all said and done.
I expect Nero to ask why the police commissioner would wait to hear from me before acting, but he doesn’t. He refolds the paper and hands it back to me. “What do you need from me?”
I tuck the paper back into my pocket. “First, I’m going to need you to call your father. But there’s something specific I need you to say...”
Chapter20
Catarina
“I’m not getting married today.” It’s the fifth time I’ve uttered the words, but just like every time before, Gomez doesn’t bother to respond. He keeps his gun pointed at my back and ushers me down the three flights of stairs in the building where I’m being held. I try to look out the windows we pass, but there isn’t enough time to identify any landmarks or signs to help me figure out where I am.
I keep my head held high, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act. Inside, I’m a wreck. What kind of twisted situation have I found myself in? And how can I get myself out of it? I don’t doubt people are looking for me, but I can’t rely on anyone to save me. My brain won’t let me. To me, that means giving up.
And I refuse to give up.
We reach the bottom floor. The heels Cynthia strapped on my feet clack against the tile as we exit the stairwell and step into what looks like a hotel lobby. Only, there is no furniture or concierge desk. The open space is empty except for the casually dressed men posted by the doors and windows all around the room. The bulges along their waists confirm they’re armed.
Gomez pushes his weapon into my back. “Keep going.”
I jolt forward. “Where?”
“The hall to the left.”
I follow his instructions, ignoring the leering looks from several of the armed men. I resist the urge to tug up the V-neck of the white dress I wear.
Gomez barks more directions at me until we reach a room that looks like it was once the lounge of an abandoned hotel. Worn leather couches and chairs are situated around a deep green rug in front of the unlit stone fireplace. The walls are painted a matching green, but the color is faded in places from prolonged sun exposure from the grainy windows lining the street-facing wall.
I stop at the threshold when my eyes land on the only man in the room. They widen in shock. “Isaiah?”
My boss turns. Relief floods his expression. “Cat. Thank God you’re all right.” He rushes towards me, arms extended as if to hug me. I step back before he can touch me.
“Isaiah?” Disbelief wars with denial as I note his clean clothes and perfectly styled hair. “What are you doing here?” It’s obvious he wasn’t abducted.
“I…” His lips purse as he considers what to say. “I’m here to—"
“He’s here to witness our wedding.”
I spin around and watch Luis Diaz walk into the room from the doorway next to the fireplace. He wears a fitted suit with no tie, and his hair is slicked back. He looks completely at ease despite the fact he murdered my childhood best friend less than a few hours ago. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Morgan?” he addresses my boss.
Isaiah frowns at the aspiring gang leader. “I don’t recall that being part of our deal.”
Their deal?
