20. Lachlan #2
"You'll what? Kill me? You can't even find me.
" He laughs, and the sound makes me want to rip his throat out with my bare hands.
"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to come back to Chicago.
You're going to wait for my call. And when I'm ready, I'll tell you where to meet me.
You come alone, unarmed, and maybe I'll let them live.
Although I'm sure you can imagine how pleasant I'll make life for your beautiful bride.
But if you try anything, if you bring your men, if you so much as think about double-crossing me, I'll put a bullet in your wife's head and make your son watch. Do you understand me?"
I can't breathe. All I can see is Adriana's face when she smiled at me. The way Matteo laughed when we were out exploring the city. "I understand," I say, and my voice is flat. Like hell am I going to go in there alone. But he doesn't need to know that.
"Good. I'll be in touch." He hangs up.
I stand there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hand. Then I turn and put my fist through the wall.
The pain barely registers. All I can feel is rage, white-hot and consuming, mixed with terror so profound it makes me want to vomit.
Someone betrayed me. Someone told Gio I was coming.
Someone gave him the opportunity to take Adriana and Matteo while I was here, chasing ghosts, while Declan was being betrayed, too.
And I'm going to find out who.
"Boss." Rian's voice cuts through the haze of fury. He's standing in the doorway, his expression grim. "We need to move. Declan needs medical attention."
"No hospitals," Declan says again, but his voice is weaker now.
"I know." I holster my gun and move to his side, helping him to his feet. "We're going back to Chicago. I've got a doctor there who won't ask questions."
"What about Gio?" Jack asks.
"He's gone. And he has Adriana and Matteo. We're going back. And we're going to find out who the fuck sold us out."
—
The flight back is the longest three hours of my life. Declan is in the back of the plane, refusing to admit that he needs more help than we can give him here.
I sit in the front, staring out the window at the darkness below, my mind racing. Someone in my organization betrayed me.
When we land in Chicago, I have the men take Declan to a safe house and tell them to call the doctor on retainer for situations like this. He protests, says he wants to help, but I shut him down.
"You're no good to me dead," I tell him. "Get patched up. I'll handle this."
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the pain in his eyes. Not just physical pain, but the pain of knowing he failed. That he let Gio get away. That his man's betrayal led to this.
"I'm sorry, man," he says quietly. "I should have seen it coming."
"It's not your fault." I grip his good shoulder, careful not to jostle his injuries. "Just focus on healing. I'm going to need you when this is over."
I get back in the SUV with Rian and Jack. "Take me to the penthouse."
"Boss, if Gio has Adriana and Matteo—"
"He doesn't have them at the penthouse. That would be too easy." My voice is cold, detached, because I can't afford to feel right now. Can't afford to think about what Gio might be doing to them. "He took them somewhere else. Which means someone helped him get past our security."
Rian's jaw tightens. "You think it's one of the guards?"
"I know it is." I pull out my phone and start making calls. "Get everyone to the penthouse. Everyone who was on duty last night. I want them there in twenty minutes."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to find out who betrayed me. And then I'm going to kill them."
The penthouse is exactly as I left it. The guards are still at their posts, pretending everything is normal. But I can see the tension in their faces, the way their eyes dart to me and then away. They know something is wrong.
I walk past them without a word and head to my office. Rian and Jack follow, along with the six guards who were on duty last night. I close the door behind them and lock it. "Sit down," I say, gesturing to the chairs arranged in front of my desk.
They sit. All of them look nervous, but one of them—a guy named Jonathan who's been with me for a very brief time, hired when I bulked up security before bringing Adriana home—looks terrified. His hands are shaking, and there's sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air in the room.
I lean against my desk and cross my arms. "Someone wants to tell me how Gio Santoro got into my penthouse early this morning and took my wife and son?"
Silence.
"No?" I look at each of them in turn, letting the weight of my gaze settle on each face.
"Because I'm having a hard time understanding how that could happen.
I have the best security in the city. I have men posted at every entrance, cameras covering every angle.
And yet somehow, Gio walked in here and walked out with my family.
So either you're all incompetent, or one of you is a traitor. "
More silence. But Jonathan is sweating harder now, his eyes fixed on the floor, his breathing shallow and rapid. "Jonathan," I say his name softly, and he flinches like I've hit him. "Look at me."
He doesn't.
I move around the desk and grab him by the hair, yanking his head back hard enough to make him cry out. His hands come up to grab my wrist, but I don't let go. "I said look at me."
He does. His eyes are wide and terrified, and I can see the guilt written all over his face. Can see the way his pupils are dilated and his lips are trembling as he tries not to cry.
"It was you, wasn't it?"
"Boss, I—" His voice breaks. "I didn't have a choice. He sent me here. He said he'd kill my sister. He said—"
I don't let him finish. I pull my gun and press it against his forehead, right between his eyes. "Where are they?"
"I don't know! I swear, I don't know! He didn't tell me where he was taking them; he just said—"
"What did he say?"
"He said he'd call you. That you'd have to meet him. That's all I know, I swear—"
"Who else was involved?" I press the gun harder, and he whimpers. "Who helped you?"
"Carmen. One of the cleaning staff. She planted the phone in the kid's room. But I swear, that's all I know. Please, boss, please—"
I pull the knife from my thigh holster in a swift motion and hold it up to the light. Jonathan's eyes go wide with terror, and I holster my gun in the same movement that I bring the wickedly sharp blade across his throat.
And then I lean back against my desk.
Everyone in the room watches the cut in his throat open up, leaking blood as he chokes and gasps, his hands going to his neck. He flops in the chair, falling to one side onto the floor, blood spreading everywhere as he writhes and tries to beg and plead for a life that's already gone.