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Dante
“Stay on them,” I growl at Tony through the Bluetooth speaker of my BMW as I weave across mid-day traffic. Sticking my finger through the knot in my tie, I jerk at it until it unravels. I still can’t breathe. Not even when I undo the top two buttons of my dress shirt. “I swear to fucking God, Tony, if you lose sight of Rose for an instant, I’ll personally kill you and every single person you’ve ever met.”
“Christ, Dante, calm down. We’re on it. I’m two cars behind them and Mickey’s trailing on their right. We won’t lose her.”
Letting Rose wander around the streets of Manhattan all day was risky as hell, but I had to do it. The moment Stella called me and told me what happened I knew Rose would make a run for it. I had a split second to make the decision, and I’d told Tony to let her go. It was one of the hardest calls I’d made in my life. My heart kicks at my ribcage, pissed off as all hell.
I raced out of the conference room after that call, leaving Jianjun and Feng with their dicks in their hands. King Industries could go up in flames for all I cared. Rose is all that matters. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to go after her as soon as Stella called, not to try to explain what happened that day.
We had eyes on her the whole time, of course. I’d planted a tracking device on Rose’s phone on Christmas Eve when I’d caught her trying to spend the night at Palestra. After weeks of trying to find Rose’s stalker, when the opportunity presented itself to use her as bait, I’d made the impossible call. It was the only option left.
A violent storm of unease and fury lashes at my insides as I cut off taxi cabs and maneuver through the deadlocked traffic. I wanted to give Rose some space to deal with what happened between Stella and me. Deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time until she spilled the truth to her friend. It is her right after all. I deserve Stella’s hatred and so much more. The fact that she forgave me is a testament to her character, not mine.
And now, someone has Rose.
Because I fucked up.
If I hadn’t hurt her friend, she never would’ve run. Then again, I was the one that made the choice to let her go. If anything happens to Rose, it’s on me. My lungs heave from the strain, invisible claws tearing at my organs. I breathe through the fear and focus on the rage.
Fury is power. Fear is for the weak.
Tony and the guys had followed Rose to Maisy’s, and he’d alerted me the moment those goons showed up. I never expected an entire legion of masked men. Dr. Mark I could handle, but this was completely unexpected.
Which is why I’m panicking as I finally emerge through the gridlock onto the FDR. According to the beeping red dot on my GPS, they’re heading south. The question is who the fuck arethey? And why did they bother taking Maisy too?
If they were masked, there was no reason to take another hostage. They could have knocked her out or simply tied her up. Why bring her into the mix?
The monster within scrapes and claws his way to the surface, desperate for violence, ravenous for blood. At least this would finally end today.
My phone buzzes, and I hazard a quick glance at the screen. It’s the DMV report on the vehicle that snagged the girls. Of course, it’s unregistered, no name, nothing.
Who is this Mark guy, ex-CIA or something?
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles white as I follow the GPS. The big red dot beeps cross the screen, my Rosa.Dio, if she doesn’t forgive me when I get her back, I’ll lose my mind.
And Iwillget her back. Failure is not an option.
My gaze flickers to the glove compartment, to the small turquoise box with a bow tucked inside. Rosewillbe fine, and I will make her mine forever.
I jerk the steering wheel to the right and follow the exit toward the Lower East Side. So predictable. It’s always some seedy warehouse with these guys. I gun the engine, jamming my foot down on the pedal as far as it’ll go.
I’m coming for you, sweetheart.
* * *
I race around the maze of shipping containers, my heart like a battering ram and my breath so thin every inhale feels like I’m suffocating. An icy breeze stirs the dark waters of the bay, the lapping against the seawall the only sound for miles. Tony and the guys trailed the masked kidnappers to an abandoned shipping yard on the southern tip of Manhattan.
According to my men, Rose and Maisy are being held just three containers down from where they stand. They’re waiting on my word to move. As I reach the designated rendezvous spot, I slow my desperate footsteps and creep toward the blue, rusted-out container. I can already make out Tony’s large frame only a few yards ahead.
Pulling out my gun, I move quickly and silently, my nails biting into my empty palm. Those fuckers have no idea the bloodbath I’m about to unleash. A twinge of fear settles between the rage, but I force it back. It has no place here today.
One wrong move, and I lose everything.
Tony cocks his head back as I round the empty container. “Glad you made it,” he whispers.
“Any updates?” I bark.
“Nah. They walked the girls in a few minutes ago, so they’re at least somewhat conscious now.”
