Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ENZO
"Tell him Mario Marino wants to know." My father's back is to me as he talks on his phone.
Silence spreads, and even I can feel the tension rolling out from the other end of his cell call.
"Yes. Mario Marino," Dad says, his tone deadly. "And yes, I expect results. Yesterday. But, for an added sixty percent interest, I'll take tomorrow, nine a.m."
There was a time I'd have been breathless and enamored by that. I'd have filed away every detail so I, too, could be like him.
I'm not eight anymore.
And I know exactly who and what my father is. My family business.
He puts the phone down on his desk and picks up his glass, finishing the whiskey.
If it was the single malt scotch, I'd smell it. Then he sets down the glass and retrieves his cigar.
"What the fuck brings you here, Enzo?"
His back is still turned.
It used to scare the pants off me as a kid when he sensed who was in the room. Now, I'm pretty fucking sure he uses reflective surfaces and awareness of those around him.
Still, it's a neat enough fucking trick.
Slowly, he turns, blowing smoke in my direction.
He drinks me in and frowns. "What the fuck's wrong?"
Well, fuck.
I don't need this.
Even as my blood pounds and my stomach is eating me from the inside out, I shrug and offer a nonchalant grin.
Don't get me wrong. I'm torn up by what's happened.
I get the dire nature of the situation.
But...
And there's always a damn but.
We'll get my sister back.
Dad will do it. He'll pull strings, call in favors, use his clout, and if need be, use Uncle Gino too.
No one worth anything would take us all on. Them. Take them, not us. Them.
Shit, no one worth anything would dare take on my father.
Or my uncle.
Both of them together?
Death wish with maximum pain.
And chances are, whoever has Lyndall will let her go the moment they discover her last name. From there, it wouldn't be much to push to have both girls released.
I've had time to calm down on the drive from the Rockaways here.
Sort things out.
Logic is my game, and if I hadn't been so torn to pieces over them both, torn over Lola finding out my truth in the way she did, I'd have come to this conclusion sooner.
Because whoever took them didn't just take Lola.
Lola's one thing. She doesn't have a thing to do with my family. No way would Dad lift a finger, let alone send out one man to find her.
Lyndall?
A different fucking story.
"Why does anything have to be wrong?" I search for the most palatable way to present this to Dad.
My father narrows his eyes, pointing his cigar at me. "The only reason you'd be here when you weren't summoned is if something's wrong."
"I see."
Problem is we both do. In this, he speaks the truth.
My father smiles slyly. "Is it your brat of a sister?"
"In a way, yes."
Triumph shines bright, and he pours another drink, not offering me one. Not that I want one.
"She's causing you grief, is that it?"
Fuck.
"In a way. Dad—"
"So, you're finally getting a taste of what it's really like trying to keep that girl in line?" The poison on his lips makes me want to punch him, a regular reaction to him. "Welcome to my fucking world. It's harder than it—"
"Fuck, Dad, stop being an asshole for a fucking second. Lyndall's been kidnapped."
Thunderclouds clash in his face.
He slams his drink down and stalks up to me. "How the fuck did that happen?"
"She was with a...friend," I say carefully. "Who may be wanted by certain members of a crime family."
"Do I look like I give a fuck about your friend?" He's already calling his men.
He barks into the phone to get the word out that Lyndall Marino will be returned untouched, unharmed, and if that happens in the next hour, then whoever took her may be spared their life.
He slams the phone down onto his desk, face up.
"Actually, you might give a fuck about the friend, Dad."
He goes utterly still. "Why?"
I force myself to remain neutral. "It's Lourdes Mancini."
For a moment, I fear the entire world is going to crack apart. But it doesn't.
He swipes his drink, downs it, and then pours another.
He nods. Then nods again, taking a sip.
When he turns to face me, a mask of calm.
"Who took them? And when and why in God's name did you get involved in Lourdes's life?" He gives me a look that would intimidate lesser men. "Last I heard, she dropped off the face of the fucking earth."
"Look—"
"And didn't I make it clear as glass to stay away from anyone or anything to do with that family?"
"Sure, but she was a kid when you guys fell out. She's not to blame, and she has no one. You can't be that heartless."
My father growls, but I push a hand through my hair and make myself stand my ground.
The urge to storm off comes over me, but this isn't a me story. It's my sister's, Lola's. And while Lyndall will be safe, I know that the same can't be said for Lola. Lyndall might buy Lola some time, but the slightest digging will show that the Mancini and Marino families fell out.
And that makes her vulnerable, nothing but fodder to whoever has her. And that is if they decide to look her up. If it's not the person after her, that is.
If it is, then Lyndall is the only thing keeping Lola unharmed.
I look him in the eye. "That isn't important right now. We're wasting precious time arguing. Rescue Lola, and we rescue Lyndall. We should go—"
Dad leans on his desk, sipping his drink. "Why? I'm not about to rescue a Mancini. She might need someone there physically, but Lyndall?"
I stare at him like he just grew another head. "What the fuck are you on about? Lyndall—"
He offers a tight smile. "Is what? In trouble?"
"Yes."
His tone is deadly. "Any hair on her head is so much as mussed..."
He might have me beaten, that's the implication. But I can almost hear the wheels turning as he plots, and I, for one, want to punch him.
"We're wasting time."
"You might be. Then again, you're good at that, aren't you, Enzo? Wasting time rebelling instead of coming into the fold like you're destined to. You should be learning the ropes so you can take over one day." He sets his glass down.
I grit my teeth.
"Thing is, when you get to be in my position, have my power, you can even take on your Uncle Gino. Why, Enzo, you can fucking sit back, smoke a cigar, and drink a fine drop even when your only daughter's been taken."
"You sick fuck," I push out.
"Watch your tongue, or you'll find yourself without one." He straightens his tie. "When you get to be head of the Marino family, you don't have to step foot out there. No one's going to touch Lyndall."
"You don't know that, Dad." I force myself to stay where I am. Because in this, I do need his clout.
And Lyndall, for all we know, is his. He's brought her up. If there's a slip in the DNA, he doesn't know.
Not for sure.
Or...it's never crossed his mind, and I intend to keep that to myself.
And it's not just Lyndall.
It's Lola, too.
"I'm worried about both."
Dad spreads his hands. "I'm not."
I know I have to play it smart, but something snaps, and I mentally hold on to both ends, even as sparks fill me.
"What if Lola's worth something?" Before he can counter that with more bullshit, I continue.
"To whoever took her. I have some information, but.
..this man might use Lyndall as a bargaining chip. Extortion."
My father shakes his head. "They'll know who I am."
"And what's to stop them from making this worth their while? Knowing your reputation could work against you."
That stops him.
That he gets.
The idea that his kid might be used to negotiate over some protracted time period could lead to accidents. Like Lyndall being harmed.
"Who, Enzo?"
With an inner sigh, I brush him aside, go to his computer, and bring up some stuff I have in an encrypted email on Dom Rebecci. It's basic enough for this, but enough of the bad shit to show Dad.
"I've heard of that fuck." Dad picks his phone up from the desk and starts making calls as I wait.
It burns, the waiting. It goes against every instinct I have.
But this is not the same as using the full clout I mustered when it came to Cade and Vi a while back.
When it's family, it needs to stay within those perimeters. And Rebecci is not a computer guy. Most of these guys aren't.
They have them, though.
But another hacker won't be my enemy here.
It'll be Rebecci, or even if I'm wrong about Rebecci and for some reason it's Costa or someone else, then I still need mafia power.
I need my name.
My father's name.
It sits heavy on my chest.
Finally, Dad hangs up on one last call. "As I think I said, you'll be owing heavily. Men will be heading off shortly."
"But not you."
It doesn't seem to grind like glass against my father's skin the way it does mine as I say those words.
"Fuck no. I don't need to. Besides, this is your mess."
"You're right. It's my mess. I'll get them out of it."
"Where do you think you're going? I'm the one who called in the favors and got the information." He looks at me and picks up his cigar, then puts it down. Then he waits until I get up from his chair so he can sit.
"Well?" I ask. "Where is she?"
"My spy tells me Lyndall is with this dead man walking, Dom Rebecci.
" Dad doesn't need to explain how fast he got the information, but he has low-level spies everywhere, in every family.
People he can get basic information from.
Like if someone's dating someone they shouldn't, if someone is home, if they've kidnapped his kid.
That kind of thing. "She's in the Catskills. He has a property there."
"Are they—"
"No they. Just her. As in Lyndall. The maid said a young girl, teen."
Alarm bells start to clang.
"I'll go."
"You'll still owe." Dad stares me down.
"Don't I always?" I wait.
I know what he said earlier, and I know he hates getting his hands dirty, but surely...
It's clear when Dad relights his cigar that he meant it. He's staying here.
I curl the disgust up inside and turn, making my way to the door.