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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MATTEO

This must be the most frustrating day, and night, I’ve had in a long, long time. I don’t even think I was this annoyed when Rocco snuck out when he was fifteen to see Maybelle, his high school sweetheart, and I couldn’t find him for hours.

This is different because there’s the danger aspect to it. I don’t know if they’re torturing Gia and Giovanni. I don’t know if they’re giving them food, taking care of them. What if they’re hurt and are not getting help? And there’s not a single trace of Tony or his men anywhere.

The frustration makes my body vibrate, and I grind my teeth.

I don’t know what’s left to do. I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I don’t want to drink on an empty stomach because I might kill somebody. I don’t know who, but someone.

Andrea and I speak to absolutely every single person we could think of. Everyone who has before or is currently involved with anything to do with Tony. It’s like Tony and his men just erased themselves from the face of the planet.

We eventually call it quits at three in the morning and head back to my mansion. We’re both short-tempered and miserable, so we don’t say anything as Andrea goes from my car to his and drives off while I walk inside. I stand in the hall, indecisive, looking around.

Giovanni is supposed to be on summer holidays, spending his time in the pool and eating snacks. Gia… Gia should be in my arms.

I haven’t told Andrea that, but it’s where I want her. I want to touch her, to feel her, to have her close to me. Not just to shag; it’s more than that. I think I’ve fallen for her. My heart, my very soul aches for her.

I give myself a mental shake and go upstairs to my bathroom to shower. I let the hot water wash away this feeling of dread and tension. I dress in fresh clothes, then get my phone, calling Cosimo, then Rocco, then Enrico, who is with Eduardo, and then finally Bruno.

“I haven’t had any luck,” I tell Bruno. I kick the trunk at the bottom of my bed. “This is fucking bullshit. How can we not track them down?”

“Get some rest, Matt.” Bruno is being gentle. He’s doing that thing he does when he handles me with kid gloves. I want to snap his fucking neck. “Come to Warehouse Six at ten tomorrow.”

“Why? What have you got?”

“Just…rest.” He hangs up.

I’m tempted to go now, but I don’t want to interrupt whatever Bruno is doing, so I go to my study, down a fifth of whisky and lie on the sofa staring at the ceiling above me.

I’m worried for both Gia and Giovanni, equally but in a different way. I want to save them both, have them both home where they belong, and I don’t know how I’m expected to sleep until that happens.

I doze briefly on the sofa, but I find no proper rest. Even though I’m worn out from spending all day and most of the night in a car, I eventually get up at nine and go to get some coffee.

Maria lays out some toast and jam for me. “Please, sir, you must eat something,” she urges me.

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

Maria hovers, and I look at her and say, “Until Giovanni and Gia are back safely, I’m not going to eat, because I don’t even know if they’re getting fed. I don’t know what’s happening to them, Maria. I don’t know if they’re even still alive. So no, I don’t feel like eating.”

She shuffles off.

I feel guilty. She’s also worried, and taking care of us is what she does. I don’t eat, though. I down my coffee, burning my mouth slightly, and I get into the car.

I drive toward the wharf. These fucking idiots driving slow in the fast lane are going to fucking get shot, by me, in the head. I try to rein in my anger. I know my temper is unnecessarily short from the lack of sleep. I do realize that no matter how tempting it is to shoot bad drivers, I shouldn’t.

I park and get out, not bothering to button my suit closed, my gun clear for everyone to see, though as far as I can tell it’s just some of Andrea and my men there. I walk in and pause.

I count nine men bound to chairs, all Tony’s men, some of whom I recognize. Some of them have swollen and bleeding lips. Some have swollen black eyes or bleeding cuts around their eyes. One guy looks like he’s missing a tooth.

Clearly my brother has had no luck while interrogating these assholes. That’s fine, my negotiation skills are far more refined.

I cross to where Bruno is standing at the end of the line of men whose chairs are all lined up against the one wall of the warehouse. As I reach Bruno, the door behind me opens, and I see Andrea standing there. He looks like I feel, tired and ready to fucking murder. Andrea walks to me and grunts a hello.

I grunt my own hello back and turn to Bruno, who waves over Cosimo.

Cosimo sighs. His knuckles are bloody. I’m surprised; he’s normally a better negotiator than Bruno. Cosimo looks between Andrea and me.