This is more than a hunt for justice. Solving a crime.
So much more.
I fear for his safety. Deep in my heart of hearts, the thought of Mario being injured or worse makes me want to scream and cry with anger. I don’t want him hurt. I don’t want to leave him. We may be two very different people from very different walks of life, but in some ways… we aren’t so different at all.
I hear voices ahead of me, muttering or cursing in Italian, I can’t tell which. I look right and left, trying to decipher their location.
They’re at the mouth of the cave.
I walk as quietly as possible so no one hears me. I’m finally close enough I can hear voices.
“You tricked me.”
My heart thumps madly. Mario.
“You made me think there was a threat against her. That she was the one in danger.”
“Oh, but she was.” A younger voice. Peterson? Or someone Peterson’s hired, anyway.
“But only because of her association with me.”
“How else would I get to you? I’m not dumb enough to attack the Rossi family head-on.” A cruel, heartless laugh makes the little hairs on my arms stand on end. I swallow hard, my hand trembling as I remove my cell phone and hope desperately for even the weakest cell signal.
My heart leaps when I see two small bars, and I swipe on the messaging.
Santo: Our sources say Peterson’s in Tuscany. Romeo was duped. Thought the threat was here in Boston because of intel we were fed, but it was a setup. Even Eloisa coming to Mario this morning was to lure him to the race. They knew he couldn’t say no. Be careful. They’re on the hunt for him and they won’t think twice of getting rid of you for the hell of it. You’ll only be in the way. It’s Mario they want.
It’s all becoming clear to me now. We were seen at the hotel that first night, the night he won a race. He must’ve won against Peterson. Peterson wanted revenge and thought the smartest way of getting it was to attack Mario’s woman. He didn’t know I don’t mean anything to him.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
Peterson was in league with Grady somehow. The monthly transfer of funds to Grady’s personal account will corroborate that. When I get back home, I’ll check with Romeo and the rest to make sure—home.
Why am I thinking of The Castle as home?
I have to intentionally shut off my thought process and focus on the present. I’ll have to parse it all out after Mario’s safe.
Me: I know. They got him off the track. He started the race and is gone. I think I’ve found them. I think they’ve abducted him.
Santo: Motherfucker, you need backup. Rossi cousins are ten minutes out. Stand by.
Stand by, stand by, for the love of God I don’t stand by easily.
I press my lips together and blow out a breath. My hand trembles on my gun when I feel a thick hand wrap around the back of my neck.
“Gun away, Detective. There’s no need for weapons here. Mr. Peterson won’t allow those.”
Slowly, I pretend to obey, sliding the gun into my pocket, only to reach for the slim blade we hid there. Being small and lithe comes in handy in situations like this. I retrieve my knife and in one quick motion press it against my attacker’s throat.
“One word and I slice your throat,” I whisper. I press so that a trickle of blood flows from his meaty neck. The asshole’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as his hand releases me. Of course he’s a coward. He works for a rapist. They’re all cowards.
His hands go up. I push him to his knees and while holding the knife to his neck, take his own handcuffs from him. Quickly, I secure his hands behind his back, then press him so he’s on his side, immobile. I push the knife back to his throat. “Give me a tally of everyone you’ve got working with you right this very minute.”
The son of a bitch is nearly crying. “Two guards, at three and eight o’clock. None in the cave with Peterson. Don’t report me, please don’t report me!”
“You threatened an officer,” I say, shaking my head. We won’t mention that I’m in Italy and the rules don’t apply. I want him to think I’m going to prosecute. “I’ll let that slide if you cooperate, but only if you cooperate.”
Lucky for me, I have a pussy on my hands. He nods and quakes, and I use that to my full advantage. I let the knife press against his thick throat a third time. “You be fucking silent. Do you understand me?”
He whimpers and nods. I head down to the mouth of the cave and remember what he said. I have two more to worry about here, then Peterson himself. God, I hope Santo gets the cousins here sooner than later.