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Perhaps, when it’s all over, I can make that promise to her.
Soft vibrations of my phone in my pocket pull me out of my head, and I hate how much time I lose dreaming of Evelyn, mio dolce.
Fuck.
This is agony. I’m not a masochist in any sense, but purposely driving myself crazy over Evelyn is about as painstaking as it gets. Anger bubbles within me as I answer the phone.
“Alessandro.” The voice is familiar and then not, until I let my mind figure out who it is.
“Jenkins?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Every instinct fires across my brain. My pulse races. The booming thuds of my heart beating against my chest drowns everything out until he comes back on the line.
“She’s gone.”
“What the fuck do you mean, she’s gone?” I growl into the phone. There’s nothing left to hold me back from unleashing the butcher everyone fears. The wrath on this city will be relentless until I have her in my arms again. I should have never let her go, but in the chasms of my mind, this is my fault. The monster guarding the treasure makes it that much more valuable.
“She was feeling sick after she left your house and I took her to Dr. Bireli’s.”
I cut him off. “Don’t move, I’ll be right there.”
Every traffic code, law, signal, and sign become optional as I make my way through Manhattan to China Town. Going across the Manhattan Bridge instead of the Brooklyn Bridge gets me closer to Kathleen’s offices without fighting ten times the traffic. Thankfully, it’s the tail end of rush hour, but I get there in twenty minutes.
Police officers are on the scene and Kathleen’s face is red as she clutches her jacket closed.
“Back up, buddy,” an officer says, as if I’m an ordinary bystander.
Restraint is hard to come by, but I muster up some to tell him, “My wife was the one taken.”
“It’s okay, let him through,” another officer says.
I join him beside Kathleen, whom I give the once-over. “Are you okay, Kat?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Alessandro. I didn’t know?—”
I hold my hand up to silence her. “Don’t say anything. This isn’t your fault. Keys?”
She tosses me the keys to her office as I walk through the lobby of the mostly empty building with purpose. Jenkins is on my heels as we swarm the security desk.
“Bring up footage from right out front over the last three hours,” I tell him.
This isn’t the first time I’m using this office and it’s probably not the last. I command the security here to erase evidence whenever we need someone stitched up after a night of Family business.
“You told me I needed a warrant,” the cop beside me argues.
The security guard doesn’t move from his post as he pushes a button across the screen. He glances at the officer. “You do. Mr. De Luca is a silent partner.”
“De Luca? As in Don Sandro De Luca?” The officer turns to me with fear ripping through his features.
“That’s my father, but yes, still hold onto that feeling because I’m a far worse man to piss off. Go out there and get security from the neighboring businesses. I want to see every angle in the next thirty minutes. NOW.”
“Yes, sir.” The officer is clearly new, because NYPD doesn’t normally take orders so easily. I don’t bother to give it any more thought as I see a man pull an SUV up to the front door. Evelyn’s standing beside Kathleen, never paying attention as the driver gets out and ducks behind the truck.
My oblivious fucking wife is going to be the death of me.
The minute I see him move behind her, I can’t see what he does, but she goes limp immediately, and rage surges through me.
