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Myles’s head snaps up at that. “But I thought I was going to be instilled as the next leader.”
“I have no say over who Colin MacKenzie chooses for his heir,” Luis replies, sounding bored. “You know this.”
“But you promised to help me,” Myles replies, face reddening. Any other time, I’d find his anger amusing. But I’m too preoccupied with my predicament to take pleasure in his disappointment.
Luis shrugs. “Plans change.”
“Then what was the point of me helping you?” Myles growls. He takes a menacing step forward. Gomez takes out the gun from his waistband. Myles stops in his tracks, but he adds, “You have to uphold your end of the bargain.”
Luis waves a dismissive hand. “Put it away, Gomez. The Irishmen knows better than to threaten me. Don’t you, Myles?”
The blond man stays silent, but his hands curl into fists, revealing his anger.
I watch the men in front of me with pinched lips. Tensions are high. I’m worried one wrong move will set them off, and I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.
Isaiah has the same idea. He takes a step back, placing him closer to me. He shoots me a concerned glance, but I dismiss it. I’d be a fool to rely on any man in this room for help. Especially one who sold me out to save his own skin.
The stare-down between Myles and Luis continues. Gomez watches on. The hand holding his weapon twitches.
A loud boom sounds and vibrations rock the room.
Thinking Gomez fired on Myles, I dive to the floor.
The sound of glass shattering outside the room reaches my ears. I glance up from my crouched position and take in the men’s positions.
Isaiah and Myles, like me, are on the ground.
Luis and Gomez remain standing. The former wears a murderous expression as he glares at the door. Then, he barks to Gomez, “Call for backup. We have company.”
Chapter21
Declan
Never would I expect Nero Furnari and I to walk through the front door of his father’s brownstone as a united front, but here we are, striding across the expensive wood floor with a plan to destroy what the man believes he knows about his eldest son.
This conversation won’t be easy, but I can only hope Salvatore Furnari is willing to listen to reason. Especially when he hears how Catarina’s safety is at stake.
We follow the man who greeted us at the entrance. Nero addressed him as Benedicto, and based on their cordial greeting, the man thinks favorably of the estranged Furnari son.
We find Salvatore sitting on his back porch, overlooking a well-kept garden filled with blooming trees and flowers. Though he’s outside, he wears a full suit and sips an espresso.
He doesn’t look up when we arrive. “What are you doing here, Nero? I thought I made it clear that you are no longer welcome in my home.” His tone is cool, but there’s no hostility in the words. If anything, they sound rehearsed. And tired. An inspection of the Italian Don’s expression reveals dark circles under his eyes and deep wrinkles creasing his face.
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
Salvatore looks away from the garden he’d been staring at. He blinks several times when he sees me. “MacKenzie. Why are you here?”
“For the same reason your son is,” I answer. “Something’s happened.”
His eyes sharpen, and he sits up in his chair. It takes him less than five seconds to deduce what could bring me and his son to his doorstep together. He knows there’s no love lost between us. “Catarina?”
I don’t beat around the bush. “She was abducted from the gallery this morning. She and the two men guarding her are still missing.”
Salvatore growls and pushes his large form out of the iron metal garden chair. “You had one fucking job, MacKenzie, and that was to protect my daughter,” he spits out with unchecked anger. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Well, who took her?”
