20. Luca
LUCA
“How long are we going to wait?”
I mutter the words to Emil as we sit in the car, staring toward the townhouse where Katie is being kept—and feeling utterly useless as I wait to make a move.
Emil and I had been taking shifts watching over the place where she was being held, the compound in the woods.
A few men had come and gone over the last day or so, but we hadn’t laid eyes on Katie, or any women, actually.
I knew they were being kept inside, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but holding the line and making sure I didn’t get too close was next to impossible when I knew Katie is in there, stuck, probably worried nobody was going to come for her.
As if I would ever let that happen. In between the hours I’ve spent looking after Polly, that’s all I’ve been able to think about, getting her back, finding some way to draw her from the grasp of those Maglione assholes.
My mind has been reeling with the thought of everything she might be going through, trying to make sense of how I’m going to get her out—but when we saw movement at the compound this morning, everything fell into place.
I had been half-asleep in the front of the car when I heard the doors open—we had microphones set up around the place, so we could keep our distance but potentially catch any conversation that was going on between the guards when they were out on their smoke breaks, but I woke to the clang of the doors and then the sound of an engine.
I called Emil at once, pulling him out of his slumber and dragging him across to join me, just as a white van pulled out of the compound and hit the road. We gave it a few minutes, then took off in hot pursuit, not wanting to let them get too far ahead of us.
“Where do you think they’re going?” Emil asked me, as we kept our gazes fixed on the van a few vehicles ahead of us.
I shook my head. “No idea,” I replied grimly. “But I get the feeling Katie is in there…”
And soon enough, I was proved right, as we pulled up down the street from the van and watched from afar as she was bundled out of the back.
Seeing her like that was almost too much for me—it felt impossible to keep my distance for a moment longer, knowing what she was going through, knowing what she was contending with.
She doesn’t deserve to be part of this mess, and yet, as she stumbled out of the car, all I wanted in the world was to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay…
“Hold it together,” Emil muttered to me, and I gritted my teeth and did as I was told.
He was right, of course—I need to hold my shit in line if we’re going to make this happen.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, not moving my eyes from her, silently hoping she could sense that I was close, and that I’m going to get her out.
She was led inside the house, and Emil and I have been watching in tense silence for a little while now.
“Who do you think is in there?” I mutter to him, and Emil shakes his head.
“I don’t know,” he confesses. “It could be…”
“It could be him,” I finish. Because I know he understands exactly who I’m talking about—we both do. The one person we want to wipe off the face of the earth.
The one person I don’t want her anywhere near.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Emil agrees grimly. “Doesn’t make sense for it to be anyone else. He knows she’ll have some kind of information—something on you he can use…”
He pauses for a moment, shooting a look over at me. “You think she’ll talk?”
I tense my jaw. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. She’s smarter than that…”
“It’s not about being smart, not in a situation like this,” he replies. “The fear gets to you, fast. There’s no way to tell she won’t fall for it and give him everything he wants…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I grunt back at him.
And still, despite everything he’s saying to me—I don’t want to believe it.
I don’t believe she would be foolish enough to tell them anything.
She must know it’s the only thing keeping her alive, at least, as long as it takes for us to get her out of there.
If she speaks the truth, she risks losing the one bit of leverage she has over him, and I just have to pray to fucking God she can see that…
“I’m going to drive around the block,” Emil replies, changing the subject slightly. “See how many guards are on at this place, how much we have to deal with…”
I nod, my mind still stuck on her and everything she must be going through right now, as Emil pulls away from the curb and starts to circle the block.
There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of men outside the house itself—in an area like this, I guess it would make things a little too obvious if they were staking out what looks to the naked eye like any normal townhouse.
I suppose they have most of their men sequestered away at their compounds, to protect the women they see as their product—they probably think nobody would be stupid enough to make a move against the damn boss like this.
“The back entrance,” Emil mutters, narrowing his eyes toward the back of the house. “Looks like there’s nobody on it…”
“No, look, there’s one guy,” I reply, nodding toward the movement that has suddenly occurred behind the glass.
“One guy,” Emil repeats, as though he’s testing the way it feels on his tongue. “I think we can take one guy….”
“Pull over,” I tell him, reaching into the glove box to grab my gun. “We need to make a move. Now.”
“But we haven’t got any idea what could be going on in there?—”
“You said it yourself—we can take one guy,” I remind him, throwing open the door before the car has fully come to a halt.
“Once we’re in there, we can take it as it comes.
They won’t have time to prepare or send backup.
And besides, the longer Katie’s in there…
” I trail off. I can hardly bring myself to finish that sentence as it is, but I’m even less willing to stand aside and let her face off against whatever’s waiting for us in there alone.
Emil climbs out of the car, his gun in his hand, lowered to his waist so it doesn’t draw too much attention.
I know it’s not exactly possible for us to slip entirely under the radar, doing something like this, but the less warning they have, the better.
I don’t want the neighbors to alert the cops—I don’t know whose pocket they’re in when it comes to this city, and I’m not risking finding out it’s the Magliones.
We make our way toward the house, keeping low, darting from building to building for cover.
The sunlight blares down from overhead, offering little in the way of shadows to hide in.
I keep my eyes pinned to the house, taking in any movement I can see, peering through the windows for some sight of Katie.
I don’t know what the chances are that we’re going to get her out of here—but I’m willing to put my life on the line to try.
Finally, we reach the back gate of the house. It’s locked, but Emil gives me a boost to climb over it, and I reach back to pull him up. We land in a cluster of thorny bushes, and I extricate myself quickly, pressing my lips together to hold in the groans of pain that threaten to escape.
“Jesus,” Emil mutters as he brushes himself off. And then he turns his attention toward the house—his mouth is set in a hard line, his shoulders tense, and I can tell that he’s searching for any way out of this.
“Ready?” I ask him.
He nods. “What’s the plan?”
“We go in through the back entrance. Take out the guard on the door, then we’ll spread out. You upstairs, me downstairs—if the ground floor is too big, I’ll go left, you go right. Search through the house until you find Katie.”
“Or until one of us gets killed.”
His words are grim, but not entirely unwarranted.
“We can’t think like that,” I counter. “Just keep pushing. We’ve dealt with worse before.”
I’m not sure I’m telling the truth, but I don’t have time to get hung up on that right now. I check that my gun is loaded to the brim, and without another word, I cut across the open expanse of the lawn and to the back door.
I watch the windows to see if there’s anyone up there, watching us—maybe even a camera blinking in the light to announce its presence.
But there’s nothing, nothing that I can see, and I wave to call Emil along behind me.
He catches up at once, and the two of us pause outside the back door.
We lock eyes, and he nods—and I lift my foot and slam it into the paneled wood, sending a shuddering crack through the whole wall.
“Someone will have heard that,” Emil mutters, as I pull my foot back and land another blow against the door. It buckles again, a loud splintering sound emerging from the straining wood, and I try one more kick—and it flies open.
But as soon as it’s off its hinges, we’re faced with another problem.
Three guards—the one who was on the door, and two others who must have heard us making our entrance.
I lift my gun and fire a shot at the one closest to us, hitting him point-blank in the chest and sending him smashing into the opposite wall.
Emil moves to my side, leveling his weapon and firing two shots, one after the other.
The first hits one of the advancing guards in the shoulder, and he grunts, his arm twisting back painfully—but the other flies over his head, leaving us with another guard to deal with.
This one lunges toward Emil, trying to knock the gun out of his hand, but Emil sidesteps and sends him sprawling over the threshold of the door we just took off its hinges. I turn to fire off a shot and get him in the leg, drawing a howl of pain from between his lips.
Turning to Emil, I grit my teeth. “Split up. Upstairs, I’ll take down. Go. Now!”