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.”