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“Get the car back to my villa.”
“Of course. The thing is, Boss?—”
“I don’t want to know?—”
“She didn’t make the flight.”
It takes a moment for the words to get through my scotch-soaked brain. “Where is she?” What is going on? My phone pings with a notification, but I ignore it.
“I don’t know. I’ve been able to look at surveillance inside the airport, but it doesn’t appear she made it in.”
I wonder what that could mean. “Maybe Niko or someone met her and took her to the private airport.”
“Maybe.”
There’s something about his tone that tells me he’s not buying it. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that if she hasn’t been rescued, she’s either hiding or missing. If the latter, that could be a problem with Don Leone.”
Fucking Niko. He’s the last person I want to think about now.
My phone pings again, this time with a call notification. Who the fuck is trying to call me now? I ignore it.
“Get eyes and ears?—”
“On it. And I’m working on getting the surveillance from outside the airport.”
“Good. Let me know.” I hang up and glance at my phone to see if the notifications are important. I recognize Sabini’s number. An unsettling feeling grips my gut. There is no voicemail, but I see a text with an image. I click it and my blood boils. That motherfucker has dared to touch what is mine?
I call Bruno back. “It’s Sabini.” My brain is short circuiting. I can’t be sure if it’s the booze or the rage that is burning like an inferno inside me. When I get that bastard, I’m going to rip him to shreds, slowly, painfully.
“Aw, fuck. Where?”
“I don’t know.” The image looks like a dirty room. It could be a hotel. A safehouse.
“We could raid that warehouse. Rumor is he has a shipment of women about to be moved. Maybe she’s one of them.”
It doesn’t seem possible that I can be more pissed than I am, but the thought of Aria being sold to some fucking rapist nearly gives me a coronary. I’m not a good man. I commit many crimes every day. But there are a few business endeavors I’ll never do. One is sex trafficking.
I head to the kitchen to make coffee. “Get it organized. I want everyone we can spare on this.”
I work to sober up, and an hour later, I pull up to Sabini’s warehouse with nearly twenty of my men.
“Kill them all. If you find any women, escort them out to someplace safe and call the authorities. Make sure they can’t link us. You’re just good Samaritans.” I turn my attention to Gino and Leonardo. “If I find out one of you has touched them inappropriately, I’m going to cut off your dick and make you eat it. Got it?”
“Yes, Boss.”
“If you find Aria, get her safe and call me.”
I want to burst in guns blazing, but I don’t want collateral damage if they do have Aria or other women. So, we sneak in, one by one, taking Sabini’s men out except for one. Bruno drags him to a chair, tying him down.
“This is Sabini’s underboss, Aldo,” Paolo says.
The multiple scars on his face, some newer than others, make it look like he’s been in scrapes like this before. It means he’ll be difficult to break. Difficult, but not impossible.
I grab a chair and sit in front of him.
“You’re wasting your time, Don Conte. I won’t talk,” he says.
