A Fatal Fucking Mistake
Dante
Iwas sitting at my desk trying, and failing, to work when Nico called.
Despite the war heating up between the Bratva and the Colombians, there was still ordinary business to attend to.
The shipping companies needed contracts approved and routes reassigned.
A stalled construction project on the waterfront was waiting on permits that several city officials had suddenly decided to delay.
Three different businesses were disputing territory and expected me to settle it before someone put a bullet in the wrong person.
On top of that, I had a stack of reports detailing payments to informants, police officers, customs agents, and half a dozen other people who preferred cash-filled envelopes to honest paychecks.
Every one of them needed to be reviewed.
Every one of them represented a potential leak if the war escalated.
Normally, I could have handled it all without thinking. Today, I’d read the same page three times and still couldn’t remember what it said.
“What’s up?” I said, straight away.
“You okay? The tracker on your SUV has gone offline.”
“What?” I rubbed my forehead. “When?”
“Five minutes ago. I have an alert set up. Looks like it lost signal on Lexington.”
“Evelyn’s in the SUV,” I said, jumping to my feet. “She went to have tea at Leo’s place.”
“Who’s with her?” My brother knew I’d never let her go anywhere alone.
“Kyle,” I barked. “I’ll call him. Gotta go.”
I hung up and dialed Kyle’s number, but it went straight to voicemail.
Shit. A bad feeling ignited in my gut. I called Evelyn, but her phone was off. It didn’t even ring.
What the fuck had happened?
I tried Leo. His housekeeper, the formidable Giselle, picked up.
Yes, Miss Cruz had left fifteen minutes ago. She was fine. Of course, I’ll get Signor Marcelli.
“Something’s happened to the SUV,” I told my grandfather. I think he could hear the anxiety in my voice, because I heard him wave Giselle back, and then he issued a curt command.
Seconds later, he was back on the line. “We’ll send someone after them. Send me the coordinates.”
“Will do. Thanks, Leo,” I said, already messaging Nico. “Call me the moment they find her.” I cut that call.
Immediately, my phone rang again. It was Kyle.
Thank God.
I answered. “Kyle, I’ve been trying—”
“Dante, we’ve been hit. I’ve been hit.” There was a pause. “They’ve got Evelyn.”
My blood froze. Everything slowed down and all I could hear was a muted noise in my ears and my own pulse. After a beat, things came back into focus.
“How?” I rasped.
“There were two vehicles. They rammed us from the side, then opened fire.” He coughed harshly. “I got hit before I could get her clear.”
“You get a plate?” I tried not to give in to the anxiety that had gripped my chest and was squeezing my heart into a ball.
“No plates. They were taped up.”
Fuck.
“Where are you?” I barked into the phone. My knuckles were white, I was gripping it so hard.
“Fifty-Eighth and Lexington,” Kyle ground out. His voice sounded strained, tight with pain. “I tried to follow but—fuck—they boxed us in.”
I was already moving, grabbing my Glock from the office drawer.
“You okay?” I asked through the red haze rapidly descending. I fought the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall.
“Yeah. Cops are arriving now.” Heavy breathing crackled down the line.
“Is she hurt?” I rasped.
“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “She was okay when they grabbed her. Fighting like hell, but okay.”
Thank Christ.
“Who were they?” I was going to find them and skin them alive for this. Then I was going to systematically destroy everything they held dear.
“I don’t know. They wore masks and full tactical gear.” Another ragged breath. “Definitely a professional hit.”
I frowned. “Cartel?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration roughened his voice. “Their weapons didn’t look cartel standard. No chopped AK variants, no narco shit. Think they were American. Even had suppressors. I’d guess ex-military.”
I ground my jaw. Sounded like contractors. Mercs for hire. Not street soldiers. Los Santos Rotos would have used their own guys.
I raked a hand through my hair. It didn’t matter who they were, they were going to burn. I’d make sure of it.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Kyle muttered thickly. “I tried—”
“Stop.” My voice came out deadly calm. “She’s still alive. That’s what matters.”
But inside I was tearing myself apart. Fuck. This was my fault. Mine.
I should have known distancing myself wouldn’t protect her. Should have realized that the second I let myself love her, the universe would find a way to punish me for it. Men like me weren’t built for happily-ever-afters. We ruined them. Destroyed them. Buried them.
And now Evelyn was out there somewhere with armed men and I didn’t know who the fuck had gotten her.
“I’m on my way,” I told him.
Grabbing my keys, I strode out of my apartment toward the elevator, phone still glued to my ear, and pushed the button hard enough to crack the plastic.
“If you pass out before I get there, Kyle, I’ll personally kill you.”
A weak laugh crackled through the speaker. “Copy that.”
An hour later, Leo’s dining room had been transformed into a war room. The whole family was there.
Valentina stood near the windows dressed entirely in black, calm as death itself, while Marco worked three cell phones simultaneously from the dining table.
Nico sat barefoot on the couch with his laptop open in front of him, fingers flying across the keyboard, and Izzy, who’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, was texting madly, still wearing her tight jeans and a black and gold Metallica T-shirt beneath the leather trenchcoat from the night before.
Meantime, I was barely holding it together.
“It’s not the Russians,” Izzy said, her gaze arctic blue behind smudged eyeliner. “I’ve had eyes on Malakov’s people all night and this morning. They’re mobilizing against the cartel, not us.”
Marco nodded grimly. “Police chatter says three Colombian stash houses in Queens were hit an hour ago. Malakov is escalating fast. He’s not focused on us.”
“If it wasn’t the cartel and it wasn’t Malakov, who the fuck took her?” I snarled.
Silence answered me.
I glared around at my family, but nobody had the answers.
“It’s beginning to look like somebody else has entered the game,” Valentina said softly. “Someone smart enough to exploit the chaos we’ve created.”
“Well, they’ve made a fatal fucking mistake,” I growled.
Leo, who’d been quiet until now, studied me thoughtfully. “Who else knew Evelyn’s movements today?”
“Nobody,” I snapped. Then paused. “Only us. And Kyle, but he’s fighting for his life in the fucking hospital.”
“He gonna make it?” Nico asked quietly.
I gave a terse nod. “Yeah. He’s a tough bastard.”
I’d seen him survive worse.
An ugly feeling coiled in my gut. I hated feeling so goddamn powerless.
Then I remembered the watch I’d given her. I recalled she’d been wearing it when we argued last night, but was she wearing it when she’d left the apartment this morning? I hadn’t been awake, so I didn’t know.
“Nico.” My voice came out rough. “Track the watch.”
“She’s wearing it?” He glanced up, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.” I fucking hoped so.
The watch had actually been Nico’s idea, but I’d gone along with it. One of his tech guys had embedded a covert tracking chip inside the face before I’d given it to her. Nobody knew about it except us.
Except after our fight last night, I doubted she’d put it back on.
My pulse slammed unevenly against my ribs as his fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Pulling the beacon registry now,” he murmured.
The room fell silent.
Please be wearing it, I found myself praying.
I knew there was slim to no chance. After what I’d said, I’d be surprised if she even wanted to see me again. In fact, if she had her way, she probably wouldn’t.
Luckily for me, she hadn’t got her way, I thought darkly.
The seconds dragged by agonizingly slowly. Eventually, Nico leaned forward.
“Wait.”
Every muscle in my body tensed.
“I’ve got a ping.”
Hope exploded so violently in my chest it took my breath away.
“That’s my girl,” I hissed, expelling what little air was left in my lungs.
Marco shot me a perplexed look, while Izzy arched a sardonic eyebrow. Valentina said nothing, and Leo’s lips quirked before he turned away.
When I found her, I was going to kiss her so long and hard that I might never let her go.
“Where?” I snapped.
“Upper East Side…” His brow furrowed as he scanned the data. “No—hold on.” Nico swore under his breath.
“What?” I barked, that tiny flame flickering dangerously inside me.
“The beacon’s offline.” He typed faster, trying to reacquire it. “Last signal came from East Sixty-Second and Lex.”
“That’s where they were hit.” Disappointment crushed my heart like a tin can, extinguishing the flame.
“The watch could have been damaged in the attack,” Marco pointed out.
Nico looked up. “Or somebody found the tracker and killed the signal.”
The room fell silent. And for the first time since Afghanistan, genuine fear wrapped its icy claws around my throat.