Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
When hands grab me.
I react on instinct. I elbow someone in the throat, turn and slam my briefcase into another guy’s face. There’s a grunt, some gagging, and I see four more attackers coming at me. I backpedal, get ready for a fight—
When something very hard hits me in the back of the head.
I go down to one knee, growling in rage. But then I’m getting pummeled, punched and kicked from all sides, until a black bag gets yanked over my head and my hands are zip-tied behind my back, and I’m plunged into darkness.
“What the fuck is going on?” I grunt as I’m dragged away. I keep waiting for them to toss me into a car, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, I’m taken up a porch and into a house. I test my bonds, but they’re solid, and nobody’s speaking. Whoever took me must be a professional.
I try to calm myself, but my head’s dizzy and I’m hurting from a dozen different bruises. Still, I pay attention as they take me into a basement. Twenty steps, bare concrete floor. I get shoved into a chair and someone wraps more rope around me until I’m totally bound and unable to move, the hood still over my head, my breath making the interior warm and damp. It smells like clean cotton.
Then I’m alone. Or at least I think I’m alone. I can’t hear anybody, only the pounding of my own heart as I try to steady myself.
I’m in one of the oasis houses. They couldn’t have taken me far—which means they likely yanked me into the closest structure. I’m pretty sure that one was supposedly a guest place, which means it’s empty, and whoever did this is probably associated with the Bianco Famiglia, since they’re the only ones that would know who lives where.
Meaning I was just kidnapped by my own in-laws.
But that can’t be right. I’m on good terms with everyone. We had fucking dinner last night. Simon seemed totally normal, and if this was the Biancos, the order must’ve come directly from him. There’s no way they’d kidnap the head of a crime family and the husband of Elena without fucking running it past the damn Don.
I don’t know what the hell is going on, but they make me stew.
I have no clue for how long. It could be two minutes or it could be an hour. Time doesn’t mean much when there’s a black bag over my head. I try to count breaths, try to steady my heartrate, but I have a throbbing fucking headache and I’m pretty sure one of my ribs is cracked. My wrists and ankles ache, and I’m about to flip this chair sideways in a very stupid attempt at escape, when a door opens and there are footsteps nearby.
My hood gets ripped off. I blink against sudden, blinding light. I grunt looking around, until people come into view.
“Sorry for the dramatics,” Simon says. He’s standing next to a folding table. Davide’s leaning against a bare concrete wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable. There are four other men I don’t know by name, but I’ve seen them around: members of Davide’s personal bodyguard. The best of the best.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask my brother-in-law.
Simon runs a hand through his head. “I’m hoping we’re about to figure that out.” He looks down at the folding table. There’s an assortment of very nasty instruments laid out like a surgeon’s tools. Wire, hammers, knives, pliers, clamps, and a car battery with copper leads snaking out toward the floor. The display is meant to intimidate and terrify, but they’re obviously not props, based on how everything looks well-used.
I’m trying to understand why they’d do this. And I keep coming back to one thing. “You know about Santoro, don’t you?”
Simon seems surprised. “I thought I was going to have to beat that out of you. So you admit to meeting with him?”
I close my eyes and nod. “It’s not what you think.”
“One of our people saw you in a public coffee shop with Luciano Santoro. You allegedly looked very comfortable together and you were deep in discussion about something. You realize how bad that looks, don’t you?”
I look over at Davide. He still seems completely neutral. But that isn’t a comfort. When the big man moves, I suspect I’m in for some serious pain.
“Clear the room,” I say.
Simon laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me? You need to start talking right now, Quinn.”
“Get Elena and clear the room. She’ll make you understand.”
Simon’s grin fades as he looks back at his brother. Davide seems thoughtful and nods at one of the soldiers.
“Emilio, go find Elena,” he says. “And bring the others with you.”
One of the guys grunts in return and the four guards exit together, their footsteps stomping on the stairs. That’s good, if they really bring Elena in here, she’ll make them understand.