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The hold on my elbow gets firmer, my body held closer. My hands start to tremble as I am dragged toward the curb where the unmarked black car sits, with a driver already waiting with the back door open. I have no time to think before the man thrusts me inside, slamming the door on me. It is mere seconds before both men get into the front and the car is moving.
I immediately try to open the door to get out again, but it is locked. I start banging on the window, seeing Romero approaching.
“Romero!” I scream, scared out of my mind, knowing he can’t hear me, and with the dark tint on the windows, he probably can’t see me either.
My mind whirls as the car speeds off, away from Romero and away from the cemetery. My grip on the handle remains tight as I again try to open the door, pulling it, pushing it, hitting the window with my fist.
Panicking, I go to slide across the black leather seat to the other side of the car to try the opposite door, but stop dead. There is a third man.
“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” I yell, trying to remain strong, but feeling the fear creep into my spine. He sits quietly, admiring me openly, his dark eyes running down the length of my body and back up again. He is in a black coat, with a dark suit underneath, very well dressed.
“What do you want?” I ask him hesitantly, my tone lighter as I scoot away from him and bury myself against the side of the car. He doesn’t look friendly. His eyes are piercing, burning into mine, and my hand automatically comes up, resting on my stomach as my eyes pin his in return.
He watches me for a beat before he moves swiftly, putting a cloak over my head.
I scream for all my lungs are worth, my hands flying up to pull the cloak from my face as darkness overtakes me. But his hands are firm before one strikes out at me and hits me across the cheek. My head whips back and hits the doorframe hard, my body slumps against the seat before I’m out cold.
38
NICO
My head hangs low, as I trawl through the finances with Sebastian, new ones that we have found on Emilia’s father’s laptop. I don't know how we missed this. I flick between transaction after transaction relating to Dragonfly. Owned by the French Mafia, Dragonfly is the face of every business in their portfolio. Any public legal entity, anyway.
“I don’t understand. We have an alliance. Why are they trying to overthrow us?” I grumble, pissed off that those who were thought to be our friends are actually trying to sink our ship here in New York.
“You know what they say, Nico. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Sebastian spits out, clearly not impressed either.
“Do you think it’s the kid?” I ask, knowing the head position is currently being passed on to Hugo, his father Lucas having led the French mafia for decades, now wanting an easier life. Probably to retire to his rose farm in the outskirts of Provence.
“Most likely. Trying to throw his weight around. He has no concept of respect, earning trust. He just takes without thinking of our alliance or the consequences. But if he wants a fight, then a fight is what he will get.” Sebastian’s voice is deep, assured, and not inviting any questions.
I stand and begin to pace the room, the anger that has been festering inside of me now swelling. The energy rolling off Sebastian is almost suffocating, as he sits and fumes at the table, cracking his knuckles, deep in thought. His eyes haven’t left the paperwork, but I know his mind is ticking over. Just like my own.
I feel my cell phone vibrate in my pocket, and I pull it out, eager to hear where the boys are with Emilia, wanting her back here with me now more than ever.
Looking at the screen, I see it is Tony calling, not Romero.
“Are you on your way back?” I spit out, my anger palatable, my shoulders near my ears and filled with tension.
“She’s gone!” Tony says in a rush, and my stomach drops.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I yell, and Sebastian whips his gaze to me.
“Someone grabbed her. A man grabbed her from the gravesite, threw her in a car, and drove off. We couldn’t even see where they went!” Tony explains, his breaths labored, so I know he is running.
“Did you get a license plate?” I question, panic crawling up my spine, anger welling in my gut. I see Sebastian on the phone already, no doubt getting Dante and Carter.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“There was no plate.”
“You mean to tell me, my girlfriend was just kidnapped, because no one was with her, our car wasn’t parked nearby, so no one could catch her, and there was no license plate?”
“That’s right,” he answers grimly.
“What the fuck do you know?!” I scream down the phone before Sebastian grabs it from me and tries to get more details.
