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I shrug. “That’s the least of our problems. Him and his lackey have Harley. They knocked him out, and Lily ran.”
Tom curses and runs his hands over his cropped hair, his gaze spanning the expanse of empty warehouses surrounding us. “Roman’s not going to like this. How are we supposed to get him off our backs without Harley? If we can’t pay, he’s going to kill us, but now you’re telling me Harley might be dead anyway.”
“We have the money.”
“How?”
“Lily grabbed Harley’s bag before she ran.”
“It’s not enough,” he says with a shake of his head. “And if we show up without Harley, Roman’s going to think we’re playing him somehow. He’ll shoot us both and ask questionslater.”
I swallow my fear, and grab him by the arms so he’s focused on me. “We have the money,” I repeat. “All of it.”
“But how? The payout was only–”
“I placed my own bets. I got the rest of your money.”
Tom starts to shake his head. “Why would you do that? We can’t take–”
My anger gets the best of me, and I shove him. “Shut up! Harley is like a brother to me, and I don’t give a fuck about the money. We’re wasting time standing here arguing. We have enough to pay off your debts to Roman, so quit questioning where it came from. Let’s pay the asshole off so we can focus on getting Harley back.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I can see the fear in his eyes. I know he feels guilty for everything he’s put his brother through, but there’s no time to focus on that now. We need to hurry, or it might be too late.
I spin and hustle it back to Ronnie’s car. I grab the two envelopes full of cash and shove them in the front of my hoodie. I scan the backseat for something I can use as a weapon, but there’s nothing. “Where do we have to meet Roman?”
Tom points to a dilapidated warehouse behind the one the fights were held in. I check my watch; it’s a quarter to four. My flight home to Italy is in fifteen hours. Here’s hoping I’m still alive to make the flight.
My heart races as we step into the abandoned warehouse, glass crunching underfoot. We’re walking into a gun fight without so much as a knife, and I’m not stupid–we’ll be lucky to walk away from this with our lives. My phone weighs in my pocket, and I think of Chiara on the other side of the world, completely oblivious to what is going on.
Our footsteps echo around the cavernous space, and I can hear water dripping from somewhere deep inside the warehouse. I pull my phone out to use as a flashlight, but all I can see is aisles upon aisles of broken shelving. “What’s the plan?” I hiss at Tom.
He shrugs, sending off a message to Roman to let him know we’re here, then he turns the flashlight on his phone as well.
We’re in what appears to be an old plumbing supplies warehouse. I accidentally kick a piece of broken PVC pipe, and it skitters across the floor. Tom curses me, but I just walk over and pick it up, weighing it in my hands. It feels good to have some form of weapon to defend myself. Apart from the odd wrestling matches with my brother and Brady, I haven’t actually been in a fight before, and I’m not sure I’d be able to even land a decent punch without hurting myself.
Tom’s phone buzzes, and his brow furrows as he looks down at the text.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “But I think we’re in the wrongwarehouse.” He turns his phone around so I can see the picture on the screen.
Roman’s in the foreground tapping his watch with a gun, but in the background I can just make out a car hoist. They’re in some kind of garage.
Shit! I check the time again. We have five minutes to find him. We both turn and sprint back the way we came from. When we get out the front, we glance at the two warehouses on either side. If we make the wrong choice, it’s all over.
Tom points to the one to the right. It has three roller doors lining the front of the property. There’s a door at the far end that’s come off its hinges. We take off, both running hard. Tom’s fitter than I am, and he reaches the door first, stepping inside.
I’m breathing hard, cursing at him for not waiting. I step into the warehouse, flashing my phone torch around and then immediately wishing I hadn’t. Tom’s on his knees, his hands behind his head, with a gun pressed up against his forehead.
“Drop the pipe.”
I do as I’m told, putting my hands up in the air as I eye Roman. He’s got a gun trained on me. “Where’s your brother and his pretty little friend?” he addresses Tom when it’s clear that no one else is stepping into the warehouse after me.
“I don’t know.”
Tom grunts in pain when he’s pistol-whipped acrossthe side of his head. Blood immediately starts running down his temple, and my stomach churns.
“I never picked him as the type to hang his brother out to dry.” He scratches at his chin with the muzzle of the gun. “Or maybe it was her idea. Take the money and run. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s too bad she won’t get very far with her fiancé on her trail.”
