20. Twenty
Twenty
Amara
I kept hiking in the wrong direction. I was frustrated and hot. My shoes began to sink in moist soil. It smelled pungent with Earth. In another step, I’d sink into boggy holes of water. I hoped the liquid stitches the doctor had used would hold. The pain was bearable with the pain killers he had given me.
I knew the stables had to be in the opposite direction. Luka knew the woods well. He navigated the paths, the twists and turns. He recognized the trees and the subtle landmarks as the ground rose and dipped on the overgrown path. It was a side of him I’d never seen before. Now, I wished I had paid more attention when he brought me to the cabin last night. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing registered.
I kept my phone stretched forward in my palm, waiting for the signal bars to pop up. I pushed my hair out of my face. I didn’t even know which way was east.
I would keep trudging through this damn forest. Take every wrong turn. Wade through the bayou with the snakes and alligators, if I had to. I would keep stomping through the muck if it meant I could find him. I gripped on to that thought and took another step, ducking beneath a curtain of silver moss.
It was like seeing a mirage in the desert. I spotted the roof of the first barn. Beyond it I could see the weathervane for the stables. I exhaled. I had made it out.
The accomplishment of finding my way out of the woods was overrun by what happened with the next step forward on the farm. I crossed the invisible barrier into cell service. My phone lit up like a switchboard.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I couldn’t read the texts or the headlines that scrolled across fast enough. I couldn’t open any of them until they were all downloaded on my phone. My hand went straight to the side of my head.
I might have been hidden away for the night, but the rest of New Orleans had been wide awake. The city never slept.
I immediately called Luka when the last message popped up. I was sent to his voicemail. Damn it. I tried again, even a third time. All my calls went straight to voicemail.
Next, I called Ciro as I walked with careful steps to the equipment barn. I hadn’t seen anyone yet, but I knew to keep close to the tree line and take my time to figure out what in the hell was going on.
“Hello.”
“Thank, God you answered. What’s going on? What’s happening?” I launched questions at him.
“Tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you up.”
“Why isn’t Luka here? When did you see him last?” My head spun faster than I could ask questions.
“Jail,” he answered.
My mouth dropped and I had to brace myself against the side of the barn. “Did you say jail?” I realized my shoulder was throbbing from the messenger bag. I lowered it in the tall grass.
“Cops picked him up a few hours ago in front of the Amato Compound.”
“I don’t understand. For what?” It didn’t make sense.
“Enzo’s parents are looking for him. Right now, Luka Novikov is the only suspect and they have him in custody for his kidnapping.”
My mouth went dry, and I stared into the woods. This wasn’t possible.
“On what grounds? That’s absurd.”
Ciro didn’t answer me.
“Get him out,” I snarled into the phone. “Now.”
“Where are you?” he repeated. “I need to get to you.”
“I can find a way out of here, but he can’t be in jail. No. No.” I shook my head, trying to fight the image in my head of Luka locked up behind cold metal bars. He was a lion never meant to be caged.
“I’m coming to you. We’ll get on this. Don’t move. Don’t let anyone see you,” he instructed. If only knew that he sounded exactly like Luka.
“All right. I’ll send you a pin.” I quickly told him the location of the stables and where I was lying low so no one would spot me on the property. It wasn’t as easy as just driving to the address. I hung up and started scrolling through the texts, missed calls, and the breaking news headlines on my phone.
None of it seemed real. The close-up pictures of Enzo next to Luka. The words were dark and ugly. The accusations ruthless. I closed my eyes, trying to think how we’d recover from this.
* * *
A n hour later, Ciro pulled into a space in an alley near the police station. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he grumbled.
“I knew you wouldn’t. But I have to see him.” I looked up at the building. He was in there. I needed him to know I was doing everything I could to free him.
I opened the passenger door of the SUV. I slid the sunglasses over my eyes and stepped out of the vehicle. Ciro was immediately next to me. I saw a glimmer of his gun when his jacket moved.
“You can’t go in with that.” I pointed at this chest. The metal detector would go off before he was ten feet near it.
“I’ll walk you to the stairs and wait outside.” He wasn’t going to go unarmed anywhere. I was surprised, however he felt I was safe enough anywhere without his eyes on me. He was unwilling to be disarmed.
I nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m not the one behind bars,” I reminded him.
Ciro checked the cars next to us, surveying the front and backseats for lingering onlookers before escorting me to the back of the building and around the side. There was an entrance for high-profile citizens. He held the door open for me and I slipped inside.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had nerves like these. My fingers trembled as I handed the woman behind the counter my license. I didn’t smile. I didn’t want to acknowledge the people who had taken Luka in like a criminal.
“Through there,” she muttered, shoving my license into a folder and hanging it on the wall.
“Don’t I get that back?” I asked.
“No,” she snapped. “Only when you leave.”
I barged through the door that was labeled waiting room. There were a few green vinyl chairs scattered in an open space. I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to see him. See that he was okay.
Twenty minutes later an officer came for me. “Ms. Amato?”
“Yes.”
“This way.” He had a slow Louisiana drawl, that should have been comforting. Nothing in this place brought a sense of warmth. It was a hell hole.
He loped down the hall without the sense of urgency I had. He had a limp that kept him from going any faster. I wondered if this was his only job, toting people back and forth from the waiting room to talk to the arrested. The keys jangled on the side of his hip. I wanted to push him in the back. Propel him to move faster. Get me to Luka as if he realized I couldn’t breathe until I saw him.
He stopped to hike up his pants. I was surprised when he opened a door. “You can go in.”
My heart beat faster. I rushed in, but the room was empty. I spun around to question the guard, but he had already started to close the door and lock me inside.
I walked around the table. I noticed the cameras in the corners of the room. The mics, planted on the walls. The square one-way mirror, as obvious as any surveillance I’d ever seen. I was in the one place I should never be. So much could go wrong.
I turned quickly when I heard the keys again. The door opened and my heart moved to my throat. “Oh my God,” I whispered.
A guard, paraded Luka inside, wearing a gray jumpsuit. It was pale and washed out. He was shackled at the ankles and wrists. It was like watching something out of a horror movie. He was positioned at the other side of the table, and cuffed to metal hooks with no other purpose but to keep prisoners from having any range of motion. And yet, he was strong. His muscles stretched the jumpsuit to its limits. Even in handcuffs, he was imposing. Dangerous. Powerful.
“Ten minutes,” the guard snarled. “No touching,” he warned, before leaving the room.
I sat across from Luka. I had to blink back every damn tear that tried to surface. I wasn’t the one in cuffs. I wasn’t the one going through the nightmare he was.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m fine, kotyonok. I was so fucking worried about you. Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
“But, the cabin,” he whispered. We both felt the presence through the mirrored glass. I had to assume our meeting was being recorded.
“I took matters in my own hands when you didn’t come back,” I explained. I didn’t want to waste the only ten minutes we had going over the details of how I hiked out of the bayou.
“The bail hearing is in the morning. I have new counsel.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Inherited,” he answered. “Apparently, Dmitry had a fixer I didn’t know about. I met him today. Viktor sent him.”
“And? Why are you still here?” I demanded answers. What kind of fixer left Luka in here like this? “There’s not enough to hold you here. You didn’t take Enzo.”
“I think he’s got a handle on it. I’m worried about you.”
“What can I do? I’ll bring Barbara in. Her firm has all the best.”
He tried to reach forward, but the chains caught on the ring. We both winced. I moved my hands closer to clasp them over his.
“I think Baxter Barnes has a handle on it.” He stared at my knuckles and the rough bandage wrapped around my finger from the radiator cut. “You don’t need to be there. I think you should stay away from this.”
My eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. One of us has to stay clean.”
“Not be there for the bail hearing?” I withdrew my hands and glared at him. “I need to talk to the investigators. I can clear your name. There shouldn’t even be a hearing. You were with me. I was almost taken. They need to know I was attacked too. It changes everything.”
He shook his head. “Stay out of it,” his voice was quiet. “Don’t come near this. Keep Amato Global out of it.”
“Enzo is my assistant. Amato Global is already in it.” I was angry that he was trying to push me away. He didn’t want me near this? It was bullshit.
“You know what I mean.” He crooked his head to one of the corners. “The families don’t know about our renewed friendship.” I could read between the lines. He was worried the announcement of our partnership would rub some of the patriarchs the wrong way without the right timing. I hadn’t even said yes, yet to the merger. There was no strategy in place.
“At this point, I don’t give a damn about the other families. We need to find Enzo. We need you out of this jumpsuit,” I pledged.
“I’ll be out tomorrow. We’ll have time,” he replied. “Now, go.” His voice rumbled across the table.
I was hesitant to move. Why had any of this happened?
“Go,” he urged. “And stick with Ciro.”
“He’s waiting outside the station for me.” I knew the ten minutes were over. I heard footsteps behind me. The man with the limp and the keys had returned. I wanted to jump across the table and kiss him. Hold him. Tell him everything that was swirling beneath the surface. But there wasn’t time, and that kind of intimacy couldn’t be on display.
I stood, cleared my throat, and took a step back from the table.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled. The guard took a position next to Luka and I knew I had to get out of this room. His chains felt like mine.