27. Jazz
27
JAZZ
T he zip ties dig into my wrists as I twist against them, the plastic cutting deeper with each movement. The warehouse air hangs heavy with motor oil and river muck, making my nose wrinkle. Broken glass crunches under my captor's boots as he paces.
"Keep still," the guard snaps, jamming the gun against my temple. His hand trembles — rookie mistake. These Mantione soldiers lack the polish of Nerio's crew.
That's probably how I was able to attack one and end up with a gun in my face. They know I'm not nearly as docile as they expected now.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" I arch an eyebrow. "Your boss wants me alive."
A muscle ticks in his jaw. The bruise forming under his eye from where I headbutted him earlier gives me a spark of satisfaction.
"Shut up." He glances toward the loading dock doors. "Just because we need you breathing doesn't mean you need all your fingers."
Footsteps echo outside, followed by car doors slamming. My heart pounds against my ribs. The warehouse goes silent except for the lap of river water against the dock pylons.
"They're here," someone whispers.
His radio crackles. "Six vehicles approaching from the south. Armed."
"Positions," barks a gravelly voice — their capo. Bodies shuffle in the darkness as Mantione soldiers take cover behind shipping crates and rusted machinery.
The zip ties bite deeper as I struggle. If bullets start flying, I refuse to be caught in the crossfire while tied to this chair.
"Stop moving." His gun digs harder into my skin.
Tires crunch on gravel outside. Car engines idle. The temperature in the warehouse seems to drop ten degrees as everyone holds their breath.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," a familiar voice calls from outside. Not Nerio's, but one of his men. Tony, I think.
My gaze darts between the shadows where I know Mantione soldiers hide, weapons trained on the doors. The air crackles with tension thick enough to choke on.
"Last chance to walk away," a capo shouts back. "Or this gets messy."
Laughter echoes from outside. "Oh sweetheart, it's already messy. You took something that belongs to our capo. Did you really think he wouldn't come collect?"
"Fuck your capo!" Someone shouts.
"Last chance to release her," Nerio's voice carries through the warehouse. "Or we'll see how many of your men die tonight."
A hand fists in my hair, yanking me up. I want to snap at him that doesn't he know he should never fucking touch a girl's hair. But I don't think he would care.
I bite back a cry as Don Mantione drags me toward the center of the warehouse, the zip ties cutting deeper into my wrists.
"Unless you want the girl dead, you won't shoot." The don's gravelly voice booms across the space.
The loading dock door groans open. Nerio strides in, flanked by his men. His gray eyes lock onto mine, something dangerous flickering in their depths. His pristine black suit looks out of place among the grime and rust.
"Let her go." His voice is ice. "I have something you want more."
"And what could that be?" Sal's grip tightens.
"Your son."
My breath catches. The don goes rigid behind me.
"Bullshit."
"Bring him in," Nerio calls over his shoulder.
Two of Nerio's men escort a young man through the door. Even with zip-tied hands, Luca Mantione carries himself with an aristocratic air. His expression remains neutral, almost bored, as if being held hostage is merely an inconvenience.
"Simple trade." Nerio's lips curve into a predatory smile. "The girl for your boy."
To my surprise, the don barks out a laugh, but I feel his fingers tightening against my scalp. "You expect me to believe you'd harm him? Everyone knows Luca's untouchable. The families have rules about heirs."
"Rules?" Nerio's smile widens. "Like the one about not targeting civilians? Seems you broke that one when you grabbed Jazz."
"She's hardly civilian, working for you." Sal yanks me closer, making me stumble. "No deal. The girl stays with us. You have no real leverage here."
Luca catches my eye across the warehouse. His expression hasn't changed, but something calculating lurks behind his steady gaze. Like his father, he radiates danger — but a controlled, patient kind that makes my skin crawl.
Nerio's expression shifts, predatory amusement dancing in his eyes. "Perhaps we can discuss a different arrangement." He motions to Elliott, who steps forward with a sleek tablet. "Something more personal."
Elliott's fingers fly across the screen. The tablet comes to life and he flips it so that the don — and I — can see as a video feed connects, showing a small room with concrete walls.
My breath catches as I recognize the girl sitting on a narrow cot — Maria Mantione, the don's beloved niece. Marco and Nerio talked about her getting kidnapped a few weeks ago by another rival family. She's unharmed, wearing designer jeans and a cashmere sweater that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
A dark-haired man tends to her, checking her vitals with gentle movements. His forearms are covered in intricate tattoos that ripple as he works.
"Maria." The don's voice cracks. His grip on my hair loosens slightly.
"She's safe," Nerio says, voice smooth as silk. "Looks like she's being well cared for by the Cappallettis. Enzo Rossi, if I'm not mistaken. Their fixer."
The tattooed man on screen — Enzo — offers Maria a bottle of water. She takes it without hesitation, not even seeming to be wary of the man.
"You found her." But the don doesn't sound happy. His words drip with venom.
Nerio shrugs, adjusting his cufflinks. "Release Jazz, and I'll give you the location. Simple exchange."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then Maria stays where she is, and this warehouse becomes a bloodbath." Nerio's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Your choice, Don Mantione. The location for Jazz's freedom. Seems more than fair, considering you broke protocol by taking her in the first place."
Elliott zooms the feed in on Maria's face. She looks tired but unafraid, even managing a small smile as Enzo says something that makes her laugh.
The sight has the don's fingers tighten in my hair again, making me wince. "You orchestrated this. You took her."
"Wrong family." Nerio's voice remains calm, but his eyes glitter with dangerous amusement. "The Cappallettis grabbed her three weeks ago. Your security really is pathetic."
"Bullshit." Spittle hits my cheek as the don snarls. "You're working with them."
"Please." Nerio straightens his jacket. "I wouldn't work with Giovanni if he offered me half of Chicago. But I did find her." He nods to Elliott. "Show him the metadata."
Elliott's fingers dance across the screen, pulling up timestamps and location data. "Live feed, streaming from their safehouse. Want to see the GPS coordinates?"
The don's breathing grows ragged. On screen, Maria accepts a sandwich from Enzo, taking small, careful bites.
"If you hurt her-"
"I haven't touched her," Nerio cuts him off. "But the Cappallettis might, if they realize I've found their location. Clock's ticking."
The hold he has on me wavers. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"
"Because unlike you, I understand business." Nerio's lip curls. "Taking Jazz was sloppy. Amateur. The Cappallettis at least had the sense to grab someone actually related to you."
Elliott clears his throat. "Feed's getting unstable. Might lose the connection soon."
"Tick tock." Nerio checks his watch. "Make the trade, or we kill the feed. Good luck finding her without my hacker."
The don's grip loosens fractionally. I feel him trembling, fury warring with desperation as he watches his niece on screen. The warehouse holds its breath, waiting.
"Time's up in ten seconds," Elliott announces. "Nine... eight..."