Chapter 42 Kane
Kane
Ibreak every speed limit, run red lights, and narrowly miss hitting an old couple crossing the road in my efforts to get back to the house as quickly as possible. Angelo sits next to me silently seething while stabbing his phone like he wishes it were Luka.
He and I will be having words when we get back. Assuming he survives Angelo’s rage spiral.
“I have no words,” Angelo mutters as he reads a message from Luka’s phone. “They kidnapped Vivian Remington.”
My foot presses harder on the accelerator, and the engine roars in protest. A woman in a mom-mobile gives me the middle finger when I overtake at a ridiculous speed. At this rate, I might end up killing us both, but the sooner we get back, the sooner I can tear Luka a new asshole.
Vivian Remington is not her usual polished self. If this situation were not so dire, I’d laugh. As it is, I can barely stop myself from wringing Luka’s neck.
He was told to keep Chiara safe, which meant stopping her from leaving the house on some hair-brained quest.
“Can someone please release me!”
Angelo ignores Vivian. She’s not going anywhere until one of us figures out what the fuck is going on. She could be our only lead. God knows we’ve got nothing else. Not until Milo finds something, anyway.
“Explain.”
Luka says nothing. He’s worked out who’s in the firing line and has kept a low profile since we stormed into the kitchen.
Horatio muttered something about insane women and stomped off as well. The poor man’s probably penning a resignation letter as we speak.
The only person smiling is Chiara. She’s positively gleeful.
“When my lovely father-in-law lost his shit with me last night, I grabbed something from his desk. I’d seen the crest on the envelope before.” She turns to Vivian. “That bitch had an envelope just like it in her purse at that super boring gala.”
Angelo nods, but there’s a vein throbbing wildly in his temple. “So you decided to abduct her from her house without any backup from me, Kane, or our men, despite Fina going missing in the last twenty-four hours…why?”
I’m genuinely impressed Angelo hasn’t lost his temper yet. Getting laid after a very long dry spell has improved his mood, it seems.
Chiara throws her arms in the air, exasperated. “Because I remembered this morning where I’d seen the crest, or rather heraldic crest before - on a flag at the castle in Scotland where I ended up after being kidnapped.”
So Lorenzo is involved? Angelo must draw the same conclusion.
“Show me.”
Felix strolls in, his tail vertical as always. He winds around my legs while Chiara passes a crumpled cream envelope and card to Angelo. Luka catches my eye, and I glare. If anything had happened to Chiara, it would have been his fault. From the way he lowers his gaze, he knows it.
Chiara intercepts my vicious glare and scowls. “Don’t go blaming Luka. I forced him to take me to the bitch’s house!”
“Excuse me? I have a name, you ungrateful little whore!”
Angelo’s head snaps up. He spins to face Mrs. Remington. “Did you just call my wife a whore?”
“Given she’s clearly sleeping with your bastard brother. I’d say the name fits,” she sniffs.
Luka chuckles loudly. “We’re all one big happy family in this house.”
Vivian sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes widening in shock. “You share her?”
“What we do is none of your business.”
Whatever Vivian says next doesn’t quite reach my ears, but it’s enough for Angelo to grab her chin and lean in before he speaks.
“If you want me to let you go, I strongly suggest you keep your nasty opinions to yourself.”
His threat does the trick. The woman doesn’t say another word.
Satisfied that she finally understands the severity of her situation, Angelo returns his attention to the documents.
I listen as Chiara explains what she knows, which isn’t much. “So I brought her back here to ask her some questions. If her asshole husband is involved, then maybe we can leverage her for answers?”
“There is no we, Chiara.” The mulish expression says she’s not about to back down, but Luka slides behind her, his hand on her lower back, and she huffs out a resigned sigh.
“Fine. If you want to go pull her fingernails off in your torture room, go for it.” The strangled gasp of shock says Vivian isn’t a fan of that idea.
“Fingernails? Really?” I snort. “That’s old school, kitten. We use other techniques these days, like electrodes and waterboarding.”
Luka pales, but Chiara doesn’t seem fazed at the thought of Angelo torturing her stepmother.
She shrugs and wanders over to the refrigerator for a drink. The dog immediately perks up from where she’s lying in a soft bed by the unlit hearth.
“No snacks, Coco. You’re getting porky.”
That’s mostly Luka’s fault. He’s a sucker for sad puppy-dog eyes.
“Grab me a bottle of water, yeah?” I ask. Chiara nods and brings a chilled bottle over. Before she can step away, my arm snakes around her waist. She squeaks in surprise when I slap her ass.
“That’s a taster for when I get you alone, kitten,” I murmur in her ear, ignoring Vivian’s scandalized gasp. “You’ve been a bad girl, and bad girls get punished.”
“I did what I had to,” she retorts. “We can’t afford to waste time, not with Fina…” Her mouth slams shut, making me wonder what she was about to say, but Angelo is questioning Vivian, so somewhat reluctantly, I tune back into his conversation.
“Your husband is Oswald Barrington’s brother? The same Barrington who’s taken over from Lucien Forsyth?”
It’s hard to tell who’s more shocked, Angelo or me. I always knew Tim Remington was a slippery fucker, but hearing he’s related to a prominent gangster across the pond is a surprise.
Vivian smirks for a second, happy to have got one over on Angelo.
“Did I stutter?” Damn, the woman has balls. I’ll give her that. Anyone else would be a little more respectful given who they were facing, but not her.
“Tim was livid when you publicly humiliated his precious daughter,” Vivian continues. “He wanted revenge.”
“Chiara’s kidnapping was because I dumped Paris?” Angelo is incredulous.
“Wow, that’s… insane,” Luka agrees. “Especially since she was fucking at least two other guys while dating Angelo.”
“We weren’t dating,” my friend snarls.
“How would you define your relationship with the lovely Paris, darling?” Chiara’s curious smile belies her sarcastic tone. My girl doesn’t like it when Paris’s name comes up, which is hardly surprising. They didn’t exactly hit it off when they met.
“We didn’t have a relationship. I got drunk, and she was there. That’s it.”
“Maybe so, but Tim didn’t like how you treated the girl.” Vivian sneers. “At least his daughter isn’t whoring herself out while married.”
“Fuck you, bitch, as I pointed out earlier, Tim’s cock was tickling your tonsils while you were still married to my father.”
“Vulgar little slut,” Vivian mutters.
“ENOUGH!” Vivian jolts so hard she tumbles sideways, and because her wrists are zip-tied she can’t save herself. None of us moves a muscle when she hits the floor with a pained yelp. Since she’s unlikely to be leaving this house anytime soon, a few bruises won’t matter.
“Why is my father associating with Remington?” He looks down at Vivian. That’s what I’d like to know as well. Vivian tries to sit up but can’t. Nobody helps her, so eventually she gives up. In the grand scheme of things, lying on the kitchen floor is better than being dragged into the basement.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.” Losing patience, Angelo grabs her blond hair and drags her upright. She shrieks like a banshee, even though he’s not really hurting her.
“Is Remington involved in my sister’s disappearance?” Chiara steps closer, eager for an answer. We all are.
“I don’t know!”
“Again, I don’t fucking believe you.”
The stupid woman screams so loud anyone would think we were torturing her.
“He doesn’t tell me anything!” Crocodile tears spill down her cheeks.
“Bullshit,” Chiara spits. “You know more than you’re telling.” Before anyone can stop her, she’s grabbed a knife from the counter and hacked a chunk of Vivian’s hair off. Cries turn to anguished wails, and the irritating woman’s tears are no longer fake.
“My hair!”
“Oh, be quiet! It’s far less than the shit you’ve done to me, bitch! Now start talking or you’ll lose more than your fucking hair.”
Angelo slants a glance at me, his eyebrows shooting up at how vicious our girl is when she’s angry. Luka doesn’t seem at all surprised. I’d say he’s more turned on than anything, given how he’s adjusting himself behind her.
“I can try other ways to jog your memory if that helps?” Angelo isn’t bluffing, and Vivian knows it.
“Okay, fine! The auction is where women are traded.” She glares at Lorenzo. “Your father’s done a deal with Tim, and by extension, Oswald. He’s invested in the business in return for a share of the profits.” We all stiffen.
“He’s tired of you not listening to his ideas, and he’s decided you need a push in the right direction. All the problems you’ve faced lately have been orchestrated by your father. He’s been working against you this whole time.” She sounds gleeful about that, which pisses me off.
“But that makes no sense,” Chiara blurts. “It’s his business, too!”
“Lorenzo believes you’re weak, and he wants control back.” Vivian shrugs. “He’s bored. Typical type A personality,” she adds.
“My father can go fuck himself,” Angelo snarls. “There’s no fucking way I’ll hand back control back to him so he can start trafficking women and kids.” God, the thought of taking the family business in that direction makes me deeply uncomfortable. Thank fuck Angelo is nothing like his father.
“Is Dad behind Fina’s disappearance?”
“Yes. He knew about her and the guard, and when he discovered Santini’s body, well, he decided she needed punishing.” She looks faintly amused. “Santini’s brother wasn’t happy to hear Domenico died in your father’s house, by the way. But don’t worry, Santini Junior now knows you’re responsible.”
Chiara grimaces before muttering under her breath, “god, is his brother a misogynistic prick, too? If so, on behalf of females everywhere, please whack him as well.”
I wasn’t even aware Santini had a brother, but if he’s anything like Domenico, he’s not a good guy.
“Like I give a fuck about the Santinis.” He wraps his fist around Vivian’s throat. “Final warning, tell me where my sister is.”