Red Redemption (The Bateman Brothers #2)

CHAPTER 1 - RED

CHAPTER

Red

TOWEL-DRYING MY HAIR, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I look like myself, but I don’t feel like myself. Not entirely. And I doubt I’ll feel like myself until Arianna is back here.

My hands still, my fingers pause from taming my long wavy hair into something less wayward, before they curl into fists.

The hot water cascading over my head and body in the long overdue shower I’ve just had worked wonders in washing away the previous twenty-four hours of filth from my body.

But what it hasn’t done is remove the unrelenting knowledge that somewhere out there - somewhere in London, or perhaps by now, further afield, the woman I didn’t expect, nor want to fall in love with, is being held hostage by her own brother for the use of Luca Bristoni.

That knowledge hasn’t been more than a millimeter from every thought I’ve had since she was taken, and it’s not something that will reduce its ability to render me useless with grief until I have sorted it.

However, now I know my brothers and remaining men are on side and committed to getting Arianna back where she belongs, gives me a spark of hope. And that spark is just about enough to keep me from drowning in dread that I’ve lost the only good thing ever to happen to me.

I cannot let that spark become dulled.

Correction: I will not let that spark become dulled.

Giving my wide shoulders a final rub with the thick white towel, I sling it on the floor before striding into the bedroom I use when staying on site at the Scorpio Lounge.

The casino and the firm that is now mine since the death of my father are both a curse and a blessing. Right now, it’s a blessing because it offers the cover I need to remain in the center of things.

Desperately ignoring the scent of Arianna’s perfume that lingers in every crevice of the room, further reminding me of the gaping chasm of her absence, I sling on a clean T-shirt and jeans.

There’s no point in wearing a suit. There’s no people-facing business or meetings going on today, and the casino will remain closed until further notice.

Slipping my feet into a pair of leather brogues, I leave the room suitably refreshed and lucid enough to formulate a plan of where to start with hunting down Arianna’s brother and his wanker of an unexpected partner in this mess.

My teeth grind with the irony that Matteo Galvatore has teamed up with Arianna’s first husband’s younger brother to create a super firm. It’s laughable.

Well, it would be if what Del said was true, and the aim wasn’t to use my wife to keep the Italian gene pool pure.

I quell the steadily rising fury mounting in my veins. Losing it will not help my cause, and neither will it help Arianna.

I promised her she would be safe with me, yet I’ve failed miserably.

And I’m failing further with every second I’m unaware of where those bastards are holding her to remedy the situation.

My once trusted second-in-command, Del Carter, betrayed me all this time and then shot himself to spite me, withholding the information I desperately need, has derailed me these past couple of days.

But no more.

Now that my head is clearer, it’s time to plan and act.

I move purposefully along the corridor to the casino lobby. I left my brothers and Cal in the games room, and that’s where they’ll still be waiting for me to appear - refreshed and ready to take prompt action.

Which is exactly what I’ll do.

Pulling open the double doors, I make my way through the deserted expanse of the lobby towards the gaming room.

“Ah, Mr Bateman! May I have a moment?”

Swinging around at the unexpected voice, a man emerges from the shadows, pulling a notepad and dictaphone from his top pocket.

A reporter?

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I snarl, my previously slightly stabilized mood careering headlong into the crash barrier. “Who let you in? This casino is closed!”

“There was a delivery, and I took the opportunity of the door being open.” The man grins like it’s a clever thing to announce this to someone who has recently been threatened by hoax bombs and whose wife is presently missing!

I move towards him, noticing there’s no flicker of concern on his face at my obvious rage.

That will change soon.

“You need to get the fuck out of my ca...”

“Oh, come on, Mr Bateman! Don’t be like that.

I only want to speak to you about the reason behind the Scorpio Lounge being unexpectedly closed.

It was said two days ago that there was an issue with the pipes?

” He looks around pointedly. “...But it looks like that’s been fixed, so I’m sure you can appreciate that people want to know when the casino will reopen.

Unless there’s another reason, that is.. .”

I hate reporters.

Fucking hate them. And right now, I hate them more than ever. But it’s when this man thrusts his dictaphone in my face and clicks the side switch to record that I lose my temper.