53. Chapter 53
53
Luca
“Luca, can you hear me?”
I groan against the marble floor, blinking as the darkness subsides.
Again.
I’ve no idea how long I’ve been out.
“Black?” I ask, my voice croaky as his face comes into my blurry vision.
I blink rapidly, shifting the confusion; he holds me under my arm and lifts me to my feet. Pain ripples through my stomach, making me wince and hiss.
“What the hell happened here?” he asks. I look to the broken vase; the lilies are all over the floor destroyed along with water that has added to the carnage.
“Oh, fuck, Katy.” I push off him at the same time as the front door opens and Asher pulls out his gun.
“What the fuck?” It’s Roman, and his eyes meet mine as Asher holds me up.
“They’ve got Layla.” I push off Black as I stumble towards where Katy is on the floor. “Roman.”
He’s next to me in an instant.
“Oh, shit.” He drops to his knees, and looks at the bullet wound in her breastbone, her complexion pale.
“Is she breathing?” Black asks from behind us, still pointing a gun to the door.
I feel for a pulse in her neck. It’s faint, but it’s there. Roman sags, his face devoid of colour. “She needs a hospital,” I say, looking at the slight rise and fall of her chest.
“You need me here,” Roman says.
“If you stay, she dies. Don’t make the same mistake again,” I say firmly, and I can see how torn he is. He cares for her. I clasp my hand over his shoulder and nod. “Go.”
“I’ll be back.”
“I know.”
He gently bends down to Katy and places a hand under her knees and another behind her back, picking her up.
“Be safe.”
He nods at me. “Use your head, Luca. Don’t rush into anything, wait for the others,”
“You know me,” I reply and smile tightly, my head already spinning at how much time has passed, how much of a head start they’ve gotten.
“That’s exactly why I’m afraid.” He carefully navigates the wet marble floor and leaves the penthouse to save the woman who’s got under his skin.
I need to check the security cameras; I need to work out how long I’ve been out for.
I stumble to the study, Asher behind me, ready to catch me in case I fall on my arse. Which is a very real risk. I fall into my chair and pull up the security footage, and rewind back to see the moment the man, Terry Peyton, butted Layla with the base of a gun, having just shot Katy: 3:35. I look at my watch.
“Fuck.” I say gripping my hair. “They have a 35-minute head start. I need Henry, where is he?”
“I’ve not heard from any of them. When they didn’t meet at the warehouse I came here. Figured something went wrong.”
“Something went wrong alright.” I look down at my open, bloodied shirt and gauze-covered stomach.
It’s taking every ounce of stubbornness and determination to remain standing.
Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.
“I need painkillers,” I say. “Go to the bag at the table, I’m sure there are some good ones floating around.”
“Hello?”
The voice comes from the hallway, and I look up at Black. “Does no one knock anymore.” I stand, grabbing my handgun from the top drawer and loading a bullet.
Asher nods, and we walk, well I stagger, to the main reception hallway, guns held out.
“Fletcher,” I say, dropping the gun to my waist.
“Jesus Christ, you’re awake.” He’s holding up a duffel bag. “I’ve got blood. You need a transfusion.”
“What I need is to lock the front fucking door,” I mumble as a wave of dizziness washes over me. “I haven’t got time. The fuckers took Layla,” I say, walking towards my bedroom. But the hallway tilts, making me grip onto the wall for support.
“You’ve just been stabbed, Luca, what you need is to sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and listen.” Fletcher nods to Asher to get him to hold me again. “You are not going to be able to do shit but fall on your arse until you get some blood in you. I can give you stuff for the pain, and a shot of adrenaline, but you need a transfusion.”
“How long will it take?” I ask, knowing that without what he’s offering I’m putting her more at risk.
“An hour, tops.”
“Have at it. But in one hour I’m gone.” I turn to Black, pointing at him. “Bring me fucking everyone.” I spit the words out as anger courses through my body. “I’m going to bring the Covenant to their fucking knees.”
Three hours. Three fucking hours of my life have ticked by, three fucking hours I’ve watched pint after pint of blood drip at the most painstakingly slow pace into my veins.
I’m lying in my bed, hooked up to IVs. One pumping in blood, the other antibiotics and painkillers.
Henry sits on the chaise lounge that overlooks the London eye; the same chair Layla has spent most of her time these past weeks reading her books.
Layla.
She could already be dead, but something tells me they won’t kill her. Not yet, not until they have the hard drive that has been sitting in my safe until Isla retrieved it.
“Anything?” I ask, for what must be the one hundredth time.
“Again, Luca, no.”
I sigh muttering a curse. “There must be something. Something to give us a clue where they disappeared to.”
“You know the resources the Covenant has, not to mention the fact that a government official was the one that kidnapped her. Who fucking knows what resources he brings to the party. So please, just shut the fuck up and let me work,” Henry snaps, glancing over the top of his glasses.
His usually calm veneer gone and replaced with the menace that sits tapping at the laptop, the shine of the computer screen highlighting his features.
“Anyone heard from Rome?”
“No,” Isla replies from next to me, looking through the documents that came from Layla. “This is unreal. What are you going to do with it?”
“I’ve an idea.” I shift in the bed.
“The more you move, the longer this takes,” Fletcher says from his chair next to my bed.
Faffing.
He’s faffing.
Checking the IVs, checking my vitals.
“I’m fine.” I bat him off. I’m barely holding onto my temper, I’m a caged animal on a literal fucking leash when I want to unleash hell, not giving two fucks as to who I have to kill to get to her. “As for the hard drive, I’m going to send it to someone I trust.”
“Who?” She asks.
“Owen King. Although you know him as Owen Cooper. He’s a politician.”
“Oh, that’s a blinding idea, let’s send the evidence outlining a decade, if not longer, of corruption to another politician,” Isla says.
“He’s different,” I reply.
“Wait, the guy you met in Wandsworth prison?” Henry asks.
“Prison? A politician. Really?” Bennett says looking hesitant.
“You were cellmates, right?” Isla adds, remembering conversations.
“He’s a good guy, I trust him. Apart from going to the press, this is the only real choice we have.” I rub my eyes wearily, my head pounding. “Besides, I’ve been financially backing him for the past four years. It’s funded through the legal side of the business, the profits from the spa and the restaurants, before you get on your soap box Isla about ruining his career.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at me.
Yeah, yeah, I know I’m a bastard, but I haven’t got the brain power for a lecture, and she knows nothing of mine and King's relationship.
Don’t you ever want more?
Her fucking innocent question washes over me. But whilst we have that hard drive we have targets on our back. Always will do.
Don’t you ever want more?
I do.
I want so much.
More than I thought I ever wanted. But right now, the only thing I want is her.
Asher's phone rings and he picks it up.
“This is Whi-.” He stumbles, pauses, and I stare frozen at the back of his head. His body tenses. I wait silently, patiently for him to finish his call. “I understand, see you soon.”
He turns around and smiles, but it’s too fake, too strained, there’s too much stress in his body. Tension builds in the room, but my team don’t know what I’ve just heard, they haven’t put two and two together.
“Anything important?” I raise my eyebrow, and he shakes his head whilst the words we have a mole scream in my head like a siren.
“I need to go to my father. I’ll see you back here in about an hour.” He doesn’t wait for my permission, or response, he just leaves me, staring daggers at his retreating form.
I reach to the cannula in my hand and rip it out, throwing the covers off me, and stand.
My stomach is uncomfortable, but the pain is manageable.
“What are you doing?” Fletcher asks, standing with me
“I’m going to find my fucking woman.