Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
He pulls me upright in his arms, stroking the side of my face with his gun before he presses it against my temple.
“You can trust me, too, Abella,” he breathes the words against my hair.
I close my eyes, and the world fades away as I wait for the final pull. The pressure against my skull increases as he eases the trigger back, and I consider my last words. But all I can think is…we were supposed to have thirty days.
Boom.
My body explodes forward, and water rushes into my mouth and nose. Limbs flailing, I try and fail to find purchase. My dress billows around me as I sink to the bottom of the pool. A second passes, followed by another, and I accept my fate—ready to greet death with the only dignity I have left.
My heart rate slows as time suspends itself, and I wait to bleed out. Only, I don’t. When I open my eyes, all I see is blue.
I bob back to the surface, coughing and sputtering as I wipe my face and peel back my wet hair. My senses come back slowly as I feel around my head and find it completely intact.
The gun was empty.
Angelo’s dark silhouette hovers on the edge of the pool, his face the cold mask of Il Diavolo.
“Do you know what happens when your word means nothing?” He smooths his hair back and straightens his tie. “Empires fall.”
24
ANGELO
“You have it?”
“Yeah.” Romeo nods, his face barely visible beneath his hood. “Sending it your way now.”
The incoming attachment arrives a second later, and I pull up the communication log between Carlo and Matteo.
“And Maurizio?” I ask my brother.
“Counting down the seconds until your arrival,” Romeo grunts. “He thinks you’ll be the sane one.”
“Pass along my regards and send me a picture.”
I need somewhere to direct my rage, and right now, he’s as good a target as any.
“I’ll get it to you later tonight,” Romeo says.
I notice a flash of city lights behind him as he moves, and it captures my attention. Romeo doesn’t leave the island often—or at least, he never used to. Not since my father brought him home and told him to stay put.
After his lightning strike and subsequent cardiac arrest, Romeo came back a different person. He was emotionally volatile, had little impulse control, and was prone to violent outbursts. He had a laundry list of other problems, too—including chronic pain, migraines, insomnia, and memory issues. He went through years of intense treatments as our father exhausted every medical intervention at his disposal. Some things leveled out, but others never would.
When the doctors told my father they’d done everything they could, he brought Romeo back to the sanctuary of the island. He carved out a life for himself there and settled into a routine. Romeo 2.0 was reclusive, surly, and socially awkward. When his brain rewired, he also developed an obsessive focus and heightened pattern recognition. He spent a lot of time in a dark room, learning how to hack anything and everything. When he wasn’t doing that, our father gave him an outlet for his rage. He set up shop in the woodshed, and he’s been liquidating our liabilities ever since. Strangely enough, all that murder and torture seemed to help. It did more for him than the treatments ever could.
Over the years, he’s learned to live with the chaos in his mind. He’s never wanted much else, and it’s not like him to venture out of his comfort zone without a good reason. So I have to wonder why he’s doing it now.
“Where are you?” I ask him.
“Nowhere important.” Another grunt. “You need anything else?”
Laughter echoes from behind him, and it sets me on edge. He’s not going to tell me what he’s up to, but it’s my job to know—for all our sakes.
“That’s all for now,” I tell him.
In typical Romeo fashion, he nods and disconnects the call without a goodbye. I stare at the phone for a beat, then text Nicky. A minute later, he’s in my office.
“Yeah, boss?”
“I need eyes on Romeo back in Seattle. Can you send it down the pipeline?”
“On it.” He jerks his chin. “Anything particular we’re looking for?”
“I want to know where he’s going when he leaves the island. You got anyone else that can track what he’s doing on his computer?”
“Not as good as him.” Nicky shrugs. “But I’ll see what I can find.”
I nod, letting him linger for a moment before I ask my next question.
“My wife?”
“She’s in your suite,” he says.
I spin my wedding band around my finger. “And her day in Saint Tropez?”
“She spent the morning at the beach club reading a book. Then she wanted to come back to the yacht.”
“No interactions with anyone?”
He shakes his head, and irritation claws beneath my skin. Over the past three days, I’ve gone back over her call logs, text messages, and all of her online activity. There’s not a single indication of what she might be hiding. The fact that she’d rather die than admit it doesn’t bode well for our future.