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“Take him.”
They step forward immediately. Leo Russo has to pry his wife’s hand from his arm.
“It’s okay, Denise. I’m so sorry I did this to us.”
He gets to his feet and walks away with Tony. I turn to the woman seated on the couch, hands trembling.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I tell her. “And I’m sorry for barging into your home like this. But my daughter’s life is in danger.”
She glares at me but doesn’t reply.
“Your husband’s not coming back home. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
Without another word, I turn around and walk out of the house.
* * *
Leo Russo’slimbs thrash in every direction as I hold his head underwater. Sometimes, a little convincing seems like the quickest and most efficient method in order to get what I want. Once I’m satisfied he understands that I’m not fucking playing, I release him. Tony drags him over to the chair in the torture room, closing the chains over his wrist.
I stand in front of him. The man is middle aged, with thinning brown hair and pale, sunken skin.
“Now that we’re properly acquainted, Leo,” I snarl, “tell me where my daughter is. And keep in mind that every minute you don’t reply, things will get a hell of a lot worse for you.”
I gesture at Tony, who’s holding pliers. My father’s favorite mode of torture. Leo pales even further, eyes wide.
“I-I don’t,” he stammers.
My eyes narrow into slits. “You don’t what? Where the fuck is my daughter?” I yell.
“I don’t have her.”
For a moment, everything stops and a ringing fills my ears.
Tony’s the one to ask the question. “What the fuck do you mean, you don’t have her?”
Leo starts talking immediately. He tells me everything about his plan to use my daughter as a bargaining chip so he could get control of our drug supply. When he mentions making a deal with Ivan, my eyes narrow and white-hot rage blinds me.
Ivan was the one who betrayed us. I can’t say I’m surprised.
Leo continues his story, telling us how he had my daughter kidnapped. His men were waiting outside the mall for Dane, who handed the baby to them. Then they left together in the van.
“Where’s Dane now?” I question.
“Dead,” Leo replies flatly.
I let out a soft breath, feeling an ache at the loss of getting to exact my revenge and making him suffer. “Who killed him?”
“The same person who has your daughter,” he informs me. “He hijacked the van. Killed all the men and took her.”
My heart quickens in my chest. “Enough with the vague details,” I growl, leaning forward and grabbing his chest. “Who has my daughter?”
“Enzo,” he breathes. “Enzo has her.”
I’m about to ask him who the fuck Enzo is when a phone starts to ring. Tony hands it to me. I stare at the restricted ID number flashing across the screen. One quick look at Michael and he has pulled his laptop out. He takes a seat and I’m sure he’s getting ready to track the number as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Roman De Luca,” an unfamiliar voice states. “This is Enzo Russo.”
