When She Loves: Chapter 35

I’m about to drive home after sorting out a situation with one of the concrete businesses that pays us protection money, when my phone buzzes. An unknown number shows up on the caller ID.

I pick up. “Hello?”

“How are you, Rafaele?”

My blood ices over. Garzolo. He’s finally decided to make contact, and he sounds too fucking cheerful for a man in hiding. A bad feeling swirls inside my gut.

“Where the fuck are you?”

He chuckles. “You sound stressed. Must be hard running two families at the same time. Ah. Well, you won’t be busy with that for too long now.”

“What do you want?” I growl.

“What do I want? The question, actually, is what do you want? Your wife dead or alive?”

My pulse skitters. He’s fucking with me, but my hands still strangle the wheel. “Reconsider what you just said.”

“I’m afraid that’s just what it is, my boy. If you want Cleo back, you’ll do as I say.”

He’s bluffing. He has to be. Cleo is at work, and Sandro knows better than to leave his post. There’s no way Garzolo has her.

“You’re lying.” I put him on speakerphone and pull up the locator app I use to track Cleo’s phone.

“Go ahead. Check for yourself,” Garzolo drawls, guessing at what I’m doing.

Her dot isn’t showing up. I tap on her name. Tap. Tap. Tap. Nothing changes.

She’s gone.

A glaze of cold sweat breaks out over my skin. “If you touch a hair on her head, I’ll kill you.”

“Come to this address within the next twenty minutes. 9001 Hopkins Road. I want this over with quickly.”

“Let me talk to Cleo.”

“She’s somewhere else. Somewhere you’ll never find her. Bring one fucking soldier with you, and I’ll give the order to kill her. You come alone. You understand?”

I can barely hear him over the blood rushing inside my ears. I brake sharply, causing cars to honk behind me, and do a U-turn.

“Careful,” he says with a chuckle. “Don’t get yourself killed on the way here.”

I’m going to tear his throat out with my bare hands.

“She’s your daughter.”

“She’s a nuisance. She’s always been a fucking nuisance.”

“Garzolo—”

He hangs up. My hands are shaking. He has her. He will kill her if I don’t go to where he is. How the fuck did this happen?

I jam my finger at the screen and call Sandro. As soon as the line connects, I shout, “Where the fuck were you?”

“Boss, I’m sorry, she got away from me! She fucking sprinted out of the shop and jumped into a car before I could get to her. I chased after them, but I lost them after a few blocks.”

Cleo got into the car willingly? What the hell did Garzolo do to lure her to him?

Blood drains out of my face. What if she’s changed her mind about helping her father? Maybe she got sick of me and decided she’d rather be free. Maybe seeing her sisters made her realize she would be happier living with them instead of me.

I drag my palm over my face.

No.

No, she wouldn’t do that. Not after last night when she almost told me she loved me. I couldn’t let her say it. What was I supposed to say back? That she confused me, mesmerized me, drove me crazy?

I can’t love her. It’s forbidden. Wrong.

“What should I do?” Sandro asks, sounding more than a little panicked.

“Get Vinny, Jeremy, and Tiny. Wait for Nero to call you.” I hang up and call my consigliere as I take an exit off the highway and program the address Garzolo gave me into the GPS.

“Rafe?”

“Garzolo has Cleo. He’s threatening to kill her if I don’t go and meet him. He’s going to try to kill me.”

Nero sucks in a breath. “That fucking piece of shit.”

“Get the search going. We need to find my wife.”

“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. We don’t know the location of Garzolo’s remaining safe houses.”

He’s right. We’ve been searching for Garzolo for months, and he’s well aware of it. Everything that we could have found, we’ve already found. “Call De Rossi. Ask for his help. His wife will force him to do it. This is her sister we’re talking about. Maybe that computer genius he’s got working for him can help us.”

“On it. What about you?”

“Forget about me. Call me once you have something.”

I hang up and try dialing Garzolo on his old number, but he doesn’t pick up. My thoughts race. If Nero can’t find Cleo’s location, I have to put my trust in Garzolo and hope he lets her go once I get to him. But Garzolo has proven himself to be a liar again and again.

I tug on my tie to loosen it. My throat is dry. I need to find a way out of this. I need to get her back.

Ten minutes later, Nero calls me again. “You’re not gonna believe this. Giorgio thinks he’s found her. Apparently, we should have asked him for help when we were looking for Garzolo because the guy’s got all of Garzolo’s properties mapped out. He just finished scanning the camera feeds near them and one of the cameras has a car that looks like it could be one of Garzolo’s out front.”

“Where is it? New Jersey?”

“No, a warehouse in Brooklyn. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“What’s the address?”

“59A South Bleeker Street.”

I grab a pen from the console and write the address down on an old receipt. “Call Sandro. He’s on standby.”

“Already did. I’ll get there before the rest of them. Are you coming?”

“I have to go to Garzolo.” I won’t risk him ordering his men to kill Cleo if I don’t show up.

“Good luck. I’ll get her, Rafe. I promise.”

I hang up and pull up the address Nero gave on my GPS. It’s close to Ferraro’s territory.

Are they working together? No, no way. Ferraro would never align himself with a snake like Garzolo, not when the man’s willing to kill his own fucking daughter to get what he wants.

I pull up Ferraro’s number and press dial without a clear plan. I don’t know what I’m going to say. I’m not thinking clearly. I’m fucking desperate.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Gino.” I clutch the wheel tighter. “I need your help.”

“Rafaele? What’s going on?”

“Garzolo reappeared. He kidnapped my wife, and he’s using her to get to me. He’s got her in some building on the border of your territory. Nero is on the way, but it’ll take a while for the rest of my men to get there. We don’t know what he’s walking into, and he needs backup.”

“Ah, fuck. You want me to send my guys there?”

“Do you have someone nearby? She’s at 59A South Bleeker Street.”

“I’m checking now. Give me a second.”

My heart is hammering inside my chest, and a drop of sweat rolls down my back. I’ve got to get Nero some help.

Gino comes back on. “I should be able to send someone.”

“Cleo can’t be harmed. Do you understand?”

“I get it, but Rafaele—”

“Whatever you want in exchange, you’ll get it.”

There’s a beat. “You sure you want to write me a blank check like this?”

It’s something I have never done before, but there’s no other choice. I have to save Cleo. “Yes.”

“All right. My nephew Michael is doing his rounds not too far from there with one of our guys.”

“Thank you, Gino.”

I hang up, race past a red light, and dial Nero again to let him know.

Busy signal.

I try again.

No luck. He’s probably organizing our men, but I need to let him know about the backup Ferraro is sending so that he knows what to expect.

I should have run this by him before I called Gino.

Mistake after mistake. I look down at my hands. If I lift them off the wheel, they’ll shake.

Nero calls me back when I’m minutes away from the address Garzolo gave me.

I pick up. “Nero, Ferraro is sending some of his men. Watch out for them.”

“Rafe? Rafe, I can’t hear you.”

I pull my phone away from my ear and glance down at it. The signal’s shit, and the GPS says I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

“Damn it.” I hang up and park the car. I’m typing out a text to Nero, hoping that’ll go through, when there’s a loud knock on the window. I look up at a barrel pointed at me through the glass.

“Get out,” a voice orders. “Nice and slow.”

I put the phone down and get out of the car. The warehouse where Garzolo must be waiting looms a short distance away.

Three guys surround me, guns at the ready. “Move,” one of them barks, jerking his head in the direction of the entrance.

I have no idea what I’m about to face here. The parking lot is empty. Garzolo’s guys must have parked out the back. How many men does he have with him? I could take these three down—they haven’t even taken my weapons—but for all I know, Garzolo’s got another twenty inside with him. I start walking with them.

What the hell does Garzolo want? If he just wanted to kill me, one of his men could have done it by now. He must want to talk. Why? I pass through the entrance of the warehouse and glance around.

Ten more men. All armed.

Garzolo walks out from behind a shipping container, gun in one hand and a knife in the other. “Right on time.” He looks way too fucking pleased with himself.

“Where’s Cleo?”

He smiles. “First things first. Drop your weapons to the ground and kick them over.”

I take my guns from the holster strapped across my chest and slide them over.

“All of your weapons.”

I pull out three knives and slide those over too.

“Good,” Garzolo says, his gaze twinkling with premature triumph. His men keep their guns pointed at me.

I spread my arms. “I’m here. Let her go.”

He chuckles. “I have to admit, I’m a bit curious. My daughter isn’t someone who inspires much loyalty. What is it about that awful girl that made you show up? I wasn’t even convinced she’d be good enough bait.”

I bare my teeth. How fucking dare he talk that way about her? “She’s mine.”

“Ah, I understand.” He drags his palm over his white beard. “It’s a matter of pride then. What kind of a don would you be if you couldn’t even protect your wife?”

“Garzolo. Let. Her. Go.”

He smiles again. “I will, once you give me what I want.”

“Fucking get to it then.”

“You know, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just moved a little slower in that restaurant. Instead, you had to make my life difficult.”

That fucker. So it was he who hired those hit men. “What life? Your life is about to be over.”

“No, my life is just beginning.” He shakes his head. “I want to know what you have on the district attorney. Must be something big for him to drop the charges against me. Give me the leverage you’ve got, and then we can get this over with.”

Of course. He wants to know how I got him out of jail so that he can kill me and still have it as insurance. A guy like him doesn’t know how to stay out of hot water.

“You’re an ungrateful piece of shit.”

He snickers and shakes his head. “I don’t want to be here all night, Rafaele.” He pulls his phone out and dangles it from his hand. “One call. That’s all it will take for Cleo to die.”

Rage and fear twist inside of me. How did I end up in this position?

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Think carefully about your answer. What do you have on the DA?”

My heart races. As soon as I tell him, he’ll kill me. If I keep my mouth shut, maybe I can buy myself some time. Find a way out of this mess. But that will mean risking Cleo’s life. I have no idea if Garzolo will really make that call. He’s fucking crazy.

I swallow past my dry throat. This is what my father trained me for. I spent years learning how to keep everyone at a distance. How to detach from my emotions. How to use that ruthlessness to my advantage.

The right thing would be to refuse him.

Garzolo watches me. A drop of sweat trails down my back.

He presses dial on his phone.

“Fine!” I break, my control slipping through my fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling something shatter inside of me. “The DA’s got an indentured servant that he’s been hiding for years in his home.”

Garzolo’s eyes flash with victory. “How very awful of him.” He lifts his gun, pointing it at my face. “Guess I’ll have to pay him a visit soon.”

I stare down the barrel.

And then a shot rings through the air.