Chapter 4
CASSIAN
Once I’m back at the house, I pull on a bulletproof vest in preparation for battle.
Soldiers load into SUVs, some already on their way to the Moretti house.
He won’t be there. It’d be too stupid. But it’s a start.
They’ve been instructed to stay out until I get there.
I tuck a cartridge into my Glock and I’m heading out of my office when Jet walks into the house.
He looks over his shoulder at the men heading out to the waiting SUVs.
“Enzo?” I ask.
“He’ll be fine. They’re stitching him up.”
“Good. I need to go.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because if your brother is involved, I will kill him, and you won’t want to see that.”
I start to walk past him, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Move.”
He doesn’t. “Why would Sev be involved? I mean, fucking think. How? He’s in fucking Atlantic City. And even if he’s an asshole, he’s not a kidnapper. You think he has the stomach for what we saw? For what you’d do to him?”
“I don’t know, Jet. Do you have the stomach?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about eight million dollars. I’m talking about Michael Moretti somehow getting an injection of cash, eight fucking million dollars, and buying his sister back!”
I hold up my phone, show him the confirmation of deposit.
He looks at it, then at me. “You think Sev gave him the money?”
“I don’t know, Jet. Did he? Did he send a loaded gun to my two-year-old nephew? Who the hell knows how far your brother will go— Fuck! We’re wasting time. Get out of my way!”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m coming whether you like it or not.”
“Christ. You know what? You want to get yourself killed, fucking fine.” I stalk out of the house, heading toward the waiting SUV.
Jet stops to open the passenger side door of the Porsche and reaches in to grab something.
I notice it’s a Glock. I didn’t know he had one.
He tucks it into the back of his pants and falls into step beside me.
“He’s not going to be at the Moretti house. That’d be stupid.”
“You know how to use that thing?” I ask, gesturing to the gun.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You know playing mafia can get you killed?” I climb into the SUV and Jet follows me in. I tell the soldier whose place he took to get in another car. We have a fucking procession of them.
“I’m not playing and he’s not going to be at the house,” he repeats, looking straight ahead.
I look at him in profile. I used to trust him, but he’s proven himself false. And if nothing else, his last name is Blackstone.
He must feel my eyes boring into the side of his skull because he turns to me.
“How’d you get her phone?” I ask.
“Amal.”
“Lombardi’s daughter?”
He nods.
“That why you’re here?”
He studies me. “I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything too stupid.”
“Like taking Amal and what’s the boy’s name?
Daniel?” He doesn’t respond. “I’ll tell you what,” I start as we approach the house because I need to focus.
“Let’s put a pin in this. Whatever the hell this is.
Whatever you were trying to do giving her that phone.
Bribing my guards. Being in my apartment with her.
We’re going to discuss that. But first, I’m going to get Allegra back.
And if I even think for a fucking second that you betrayed me, that you had anything to do with this?
The bullet I put in your skull will teach you once and for all what it means to be on the wrong side of me. ”
Jet grits his jaw, but doesn’t respond.
“Get him a vest,” I tell a soldier, then turn to Jet. “If a bullet’s going to kill you, it’s going to be mine.”
Jet puts on his vest. I turn my gaze to the house as our SUVs slow to join the two already parked on the lawn. I take my Glock out of its holster and hold it at my side.
The house is dark. I doubt anyone’s inside, but like I said, it’s a start. When I get to the house, my men are waiting, each of them dressed in black, one holding a battering ram. I look at it, then at him.
“Do it.” I don’t bother to knock. I want to leave as much destruction behind me as possible. I want to send a very clear message to anyone involved.
The door crashes open and six men file inside, AK-47s ready.
I walk in next, Jet following me. The house is pitch black.
Men scatter throughout the first floor, up the stairs to the second.
A few minutes pass as I make my way to Alaric Moretti’s office.
Everything is clear, no one here. But from the look of things, and this is confirmed when we turn the lights on, someone was here, and they left in a hurry.
Jet goes upstairs to search the bedrooms. I tuck the Glock back into its holster before looking around the study. This room is undisturbed, but in the living room is a broken vase and two of the dining room chairs are turned on their side. The kitchen is untouched, all entrances intact.
“Cassian,” Jet calls.
I look up to find him at the top of the stairs. “You’ll want to see this.”
I walk up the stairs, meet Jet outside one of the bedrooms. I look inside. It must be the little boy’s room. Daniel. His bed is unmade, a teddy bear dropped somewhere between it and the door. Jet waits for me to get to the next room.
“This is Amal’s room,” he says as I take in the state. There was a fight here. That’s clear. The room is wrecked, one of the lamps crashed to the floor, the bathroom door splintered.
“How do you know it’s her room?” I ask before noticing the open books on the desk and seeing her name at the top of a notebook.
He bends to pick something up. “Someone took her by force. She’d never leave her phone behind.”
I glance at it, watch him tuck it into his pocket.
I walk out of the room and go into the next one which is, or was, Allegra’s.
I walk in and switch on the light. This room is undisturbed.
No one here to kidnap. She was already taken.
The room is neat, the design simple, not overly feminine, the bed made, the desktop empty.
I walk over to the nightstand where a framed photo is on the floor.
I pick it up to find the glass is cracked.
It’s a picture of a younger Allegra with her mom.
There’s a birthday cake and I see the balloon behind her.
Fifteen. The year they were kidnapped. The year her mother died.
It was two months after this photo was taken. Two months and her whole life changed.
“Malek’s room is untouched,” Jet says.
I don’t turn around yet. Instead, I slip the photo out of the frame and tuck it into my pocket.
“Which one is it?” I ask, very aware of the rings that had been delivered just hours ago as well as that bullet still inside my pocket. I’d planned on marrying her before we left Atlantic City. I scrub my face. Christ. It’s been a fucking day.
I follow Jet into Malek’s room. I can smell the cologne he must fucking bathe in. His desk is there. The top is cleared off and the drawers locked.
“Break those locks and get everything inside. I want it all.”
“Yes, sir,” one of my soldiers says.
I walk out to two remaining rooms, the master and a smaller room.
I expect Michael’s to be the smaller one, but from the state of things, he moved himself into his father’s room.
It’s messy and dirty and on the nightstand is an ashtray full of the remnants of cigars he half-smoked.
I recall the marks on the back of Allegra’s neck.
I know now who put them there, at least the fresh ones.
I’m still not convinced her father isn’t to blame for at least some.
“Let’s go,” I tell my men. “Keep eyes on the place. I want a call if anyone comes or goes. Anyone.”
“Yes, sir,” the man says.
I walk out, Jet at my side. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to think.
What does he want with her? Why kill Michael and keep her alive?
There’s only one reason. Only one thing that makes sense and everyone knows it.
He plans on taking over the family. He’s not blood, not a natural successor, but Allegra is Alaric Moretti’s daughter. She is his blood.
The thought makes my hands fist, but I’ve never been one to bury my head from truths I don’t like.
At least he won’t kill her, I remind myself.
He needs Allegra. If he marries her, he’ll have more than a foot in the door. The family will follow him because of her. He’d have to force her to do it, though. She’d never agree unless she had no choice.
I look back up at the house. Amal and Daniel. Did he have his own children kidnapped to force Allegra’s hand? She loves them, I know that much. Would he hurt his own family for his ambition?
My phone rings. I hurry to answer, hope swelling like a helium balloon when I see it’s Angelo.
“Angelo?”
“I’m not sure how this is related, but the Lombardi children were seen last night at Richard Moore’s house.”
“Amal and Daniel?” I ask, glancing at Jet, who shifts his gaze to me. “You’re sure?”
“I have eyes on the house.”
“But no sign of her?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
I draw a deep breath in. “This is something.”
“I’ll keep looking.” We disconnect.
“What about Amal?” Jet asks.
I climb into the driver’s seat of one of the SUVs. Jet takes the passenger seat. Soldiers fill four more vehicles.
“Angelo says they were sighted at the Moore house. Allegra’s close with them. He’ll use them for leverage.”
“The Moores wouldn’t go up against you.”
I glance over at Jet. “How much do you know about them?”
He considers, forehead furrowing. “Enough to know they’re inconsequential. It’s a distraction, Cassian.”
I keep my eyes on the road. He could be right. It does seem very convenient.
“You know what he’s planning, don’t you?” Jet asks.
I pause at the intersection. “I think so,” I say, and decide. “Let’s go see Richard Moore.”