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“You get more than your fair share,” I say, going down the steep wooden steps with him in tow.
After loading the last of my things, I pull down on the heavy steel door and latch it. “Come to the house.”
“What the fuck for? I’ve seen your ugly mug long enough for one day.”
“I need someone to help me unload all this shit. It’s an order,” I add when he takes too long to agree.
“Mother…” But he complies, hopping onto his bike when I get into the front seat of the truck.
Then we take off toward Todt Hill, a moving truck followed by a caravan of black SUVs and a bike.
When we arrive at the house, I leave the men outside and rush into the foyer, feeling the need to tell Carina we have company before she comes down in her underwear. Especially after the promise she made before I left.
Leaning against the banister, I yell up the stairs, “Honey, I’m home, and I’m not alone!”
Then I head to the study.
I stop when, almost immediately, I get the sense that something’s wrong. Instinctively, I tug my SIG from my belt holster and move around the room slowly, searching for what I sense. It doesn’t take long to find it.
Items on my desk have been moved around—an open folder, my chair backed up to the wall behind it, and a glass tumbler on my desk, serving as a paperweight on a note.
My stomach clenches as I move toward it. Nothing good has ever come from a note left in a disheveled room. I yank the sheet from under the glass and begin to read the message written with neat, confident penmanship.
Come to Flag’s Point Marina. Tomorrow night at midnight. Eye for an eye. Di Persia for Di Persia. Bring Gregorio if you want your wife back.
Let’s make this peaceful.
I’ll be expecting you to be well armed. Expect the same from me.
Best regards,
G. Black
I ball up the paper and throw it across the room.
“Hansen!” I roar.
Within seconds, he, Gunn, and two other guards are standing in front of me. “Sir.”
“She’s gone!” I roar. “She’s fucking gone!”
“Who, sir?”
Angrily, I shove aside the glass and slap my palms against the desk. Then, fisting one of my hands, I pound it to my forehead, urging my spinning mind to slow down enough to let me think clearly. “Carina.”
“Sir?” Hansen asks in confusion.
I lift my gaze to Gunn. “My wife.”
Hansen raises a brow when I use a different name than he expects, but he knows better than to continue questioning.
Gunn moves to the balled-up note and opens it. “Shit. Gideon Black.”
“How the fuck did he get in?” I demand.
“Aiden, Chris, take roll call. Find out if any men are missing.” Hansen motions for his men to obey. “I’m going to the security room to look through the camera footage. If someone came, they didn’t force their way in. It should have something—”
“Sir.” One of the guards returns with another man before he can finish. “It was Mr. Sinacore’s uncle. Tell him.”
