Chapter 3
Luke
W hen I passed the outer gates to the estate that I always thought was the Rossinis’ property, I had second thoughts. The enormous mansion set back on the road seemed old and neglected. While the structure was large and impressive, the grounds looked shabby, left to the invasion of weeds. No cars lined the circular drive out front. I spotted no activity coming or going from the place, but I refused to let the signs of abandonment deter me.
Parking a ways back, I watched the guard house at the gate. A man stood in there, watching the main road that led to his post.
He had to be positioned there to guard something or someone in that huge mansion.
Right?
Once more, I grew frustrated with the idleness of scoping out this place. A home, one that might be mine. If Marlo lived here, then whatever he had could one day be mine, as his son.
A mafia boss’s son. I shook my head, still struggling to accept that news. Whether I was Marlo Rossini’s son or not, nothing would change the fact that I was Emma’s fiancé.
She was counting on me. She had been taken, and I needed to act now in getting her back. Sitting here and ruminating that this massive estate could belong to me was a ridiculous waste of time.
But I waited. For just a few more moments, I waited out of sight and planned how to do this.
I didn’t have a weapon. I had nothing by my fists and wits. Rushing in with a demand to see Jimmy at this Rossini residence wouldn’t help Emma. If I were caught and withheld from barging in, it’d put me back further from finding her.
Once I was satisfied that no patrols would come by this part of the land, I left Randy’s car hidden behind a tree and jogged closer to the gate. Climbing over it wasn’t as easy as I thought it might be, but this also wasn’t my first time sneaking in somewhere. I scaled it and dropped on the other side, onto the private property.
No one came. Nothing stirred.
The whole place seemed desolate and abandoned, void of life.
If this was my best connection to find Jimmy and get answers about Emma, I was really reaching. Desperate. I was. I was desperate to find her, and I’d exhaust all means of finding her.
The lack of patrolling guards made me uneasy, and as I crept closer to the house, I worried that I’d find it abandoned. I resisted the nagging thought that it was nothing but a rumor that the Rossinis lived here. The place was grand, something befitting a mafia lord if it wasn’t so rundown. But no one seemed to be here. It didn’t look like a place I might find Jimmy.
The only reassurance was the evidence of recent tire marks on the drive toward the side.
Here, at a side door, I finally found evidence that I wasn’t alone.
I opened the door, surprising a tall, broad-shouldered man. Recognition hit me instantly, but I couldn’t latch on to his name. I’d seen him before. I knew that. As his brows shot up in surprise and his mouth dropped open, it seemed the feeling was mutual.
I remained tense, bracing for an attack because I was trespassing.
“Luke—”
He knew my name. He was that much further of a step ahead of me, but his voice didn’t trigger any clues. While I was certain this wasn’t the first time I’d met him, this beefy guy who looked like a guard, I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before.
And I wasn’t going to wait for an answer. I wasn’t here to see him. I intended to find Jimmy. To get answers for how I could locate Emma. I stepped forward, intending to barge the rest of the way inside.
“Luke, no. Wait.”
He reached toward his side, and I didn’t hesitate. If he was grabbing a gun to stop me, I wouldn’t give him a chance to shoot.
I lunged at him, fighting him with all the pent-up energy I’d been bottling in. No one else rushed in, and all the while we fought and he shouted at me to stop, I vented and pummeled him to the ground.
Heaving in deep breaths, I left him panting and groaning on the floor.
“Jimmy?” I called out.
If the sounds of me fighting this guard didn’t alert someone else to investigate, my yells would.
I strained to catch my breath as I ran further into the house, calling for Jimmy. Through this side area, the kitchen, more grand, enormous rooms that looked like ghosts resided in them, and then onto a huge central foyer. I ran without paying attention to the details, determined to find my uncle or someone else from the Rossini organization who’d give me some fucking answers.
I reconsidered leaving that guard beaten back there. Maybe he’d have answers for me. But maybe not. I hadn’t killed him, though, and I didn’t doubt that he’d be back up and rushing after me with how he’d tried to get me to stop at the side entrance. I’d surprised him, but that element of surprise was now spent.
He knew I was here. He was guarding something. And I’d be stupid to assume that I was free to snoop for long.
“Jimmy? Where the fuck are you?” I yelled it as I ran up one half of a double grand staircase. Taking the steps two at a time, I listened for any reaction beyond the echo of my shouts.
No one replied, and I again worried that I was wasting my time. Looking for my uncle had to be the first part in finding Emma, but I was losing hope that I would find anyone here. I grew more frustrated, too, that I had no knowledge of where Jimmy lived. I’d never known how to get ahold of him, only having his phone number and meeting him in places in the city. I’d never known what he did for a living, either.
Mom might.
I was hit with the frustration that they’d both kept so much from me.
On the second floor, I ran past empty rooms. Each door opened to reveal more of the same general abandonment. Until the last one.
I pushed the door open and stopped before stepping in.
This one had an occupant.
One lonely, sickly man lay in a bed, hooked up to tubes and wires. Medical equipment was stationed near the curtained windows. They hummed and hissed quietly, lit up with different status blinkers as they seemed to keep the man alive. Liquid dripped down from an IV bag, and that seemed to be the only active movement.
I didn’t speak, staring at the man sleeping.
And I knew.
I just knew .
His facial features were too similar. Gaunt and thin, he looked ill and one inch from death, but I still saw the resemblance. The same cheekbone and chin structure that I saw in the mirror. The same shape of nose. Even his hair, black like mine but graying.
I’d come here looking for answers to find my fiancée.
Instead, I’d stumbled upon my father. The one I never had and never wanted. The one I still didn’t wish to know right now. Emma came first, but as I stared at this stranger, I knew without a doubt it was way too fucking late to meet him. It was pointless after a lifetime of never being acknowledged.
I was thrown off, shocked at seeing him. Especially like this. I was so locked in surprise that I wasn’t prepared for that guard to return. He hadn’t rushed upstairs the same way I’d come. He didn’t stalk toward me, limping, from behind me, but through another door at the other side of the sick man’s room.
He pressed a finger to his lips in a universal sign for quiet.
I frowned, confused that he didn’t look mad that I’d beaten him. He only seemed worried about waking the man, the old waste of space that I figured was my father.
Backing up, I let him guide me out of the room. And that was where I found my uncle. Jimmy jogged up the steps, sporting that same expression of stark concern.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded.
“Sean,” Jimmy said, not even acknowledging me, “did he see him?”
Sean? I thought back to how Ben and his friends mentioned a man by that name at the club. Then I was hit with more memories of where I’d seen this man before. He wasn’t present in the fighting circuit anymore, but that was the connection. This older, burly man used to stand in the background during my trainings.
“No.” Sean shook his head.
“I didn’t see that old sack of bones?” I taunted, looking between both of them. “Yes, I did. Is that my father?” I spat that last question at my uncle.
“Marlo doesn’t know about you.” Jimmy straightened, glaring at me. “And it should stay that way.”
“Then who the fuck is this?” I pointed at Sean. “He seems to know me.”
“Sean is a capo. I’ve trusted him, and only him, with the knowledge that you’re Marlo’s son.”
Between both of them, I was guided back down the steps.
I couldn’t hep but glance up again, in the direction of where my father lay in bed, near death’s door. I had so many questions. I had yet to let it sink in that I actually saw my father. But now wasn’t the time. I had to prioritize Emma.
“The fewer people who know about you, the better,” Jimmy said.
Fine. Whatever. “I didn’t come here to chat about my old man. Where is Emma? Did you have her taken?”
He shook his head. “No. I swear it.”
“Emmalina Giordino?” Sean asked.
I nodded. “You know anything about her being taken?”
“No, sir.”
“Sir?” I huffed a laugh. For fuck’s sake. I wasn’t a sir and never would be one.
“But I am not surprised that she was captured. She is promised to marry Antonio Marchese,” Jimmy said.
Wrong. Emma agreed to marry me.
“And that’s why I warned you,” he added sternly. “You’re starting a war with taking what isn’t yours.”
“It’s her life. It’s her choice. And she chose me.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Jimmy argued.
“It will now! I refuse to lose her.”
Jimmy looked to the side, grimacing. “She’ll probably be killed for not going along with her father’s orders. If you’re hoping to find her, don’t plan on it. Either Damon Giordino captured his own daughter with the intention to kill her for her defiance or Antonio Marchese will for her defiance in not staying a virgin and belonging to him as he expected.”
Those weren’t good odds. But I’d overcome them.
“Where is she?”
He shook his head.
I grabbed the front of his suit jacket, baring my teeth. He stiffened but didn’t lose his cool.
“Where can I find her? Tell me.”
“Not yet,” he argued.
Rage boiled hotter in my veins. I reacted on impulse, rearing back my fist to punch him. “You know? You know where she is?” And won’t tell me?
He still didn’t react, cool as ever, despite me almost hitting him. “I have my guesses.”
He’d referenced her father and the man who wanted to marry her. He could tell me how to find the Giordino and Marchese residences.
“What the fuck do you mean, not yet?”
“You have a fight tonight.”
I looked at the ceiling, releasing him roughly. “A fight? I don’t give a shit about a match.” How could he not understand me when I said I wouldn’t give up Emma? That included not giving up on finding her.
He held up a hand. “After the fight tonight—where I can get a better judgment on how the Marchese men are acting—I’ll tell you where to look.”
I was too angry to accept that. “That’s not good enough.” I approached him again, intending to beat the answers out of him now. Sean caught my arm though, holding me back.
“It’s all I can compromise, Luke,” Jimmy said as he watched me seethe and fume, hellbent on attacking him. “You have started a fucking war, and sometimes, you need to stand back and assess the next move.”
“Don’t give me that shit.” Every second I waited was that much longer that Emma could be hurt.
Or killed. He’d said it. This was a grave situation, not one to procrastinate on.
“I promise. I will help you after the fight,” he repeated, serious and not showing a single tell of lying.
I wanted to believe him, but as I settled down a bit from the urgency to attack him, I recalled that I’d trusted this man my whole life. And he’d lied to me. He’d kept the truth from me for years, and in this circumstance, I took his advice and applied.
Stand back and assess my next move?
I did that now, eyeing this man who seemed more like my enemy. My uncle may be my enemy, but he was the one I needed to keep close if I wanted more answers about Emma’s location.