Three #2
Mentioning her mom seems to be the magic code that finally unlocks the carrot’s tongue. “Where’s my Mama? When is she coming?”
Emily answers gently, “I told you already, sweetie. She’s at the hospital. Just two more days, and she’ll be with you.”
The girl’s little lips tremble, and her big eyes well up with tears. “I want my Mama.”
That’s my cue.
I glance over at Carlo, who’s just finished changing the boys’ clothes. “All right, that’s my drama quota for the day. I’m out.”
***
I pass by the cages where fighters are tearing each other to shreds and head toward Brando’s office.
There’s a death match scheduled for tonight, and instead of pussy, I’m craving some testosterone.
I’ve already placed my bet, and I want to see with my own eyes that the fighter I put money on is going to kill that other son of a bitch and triple my money.
The crowd’s bigger than usual tonight. I have to admit, ever since Carlo publicly backed his brother Brando, the profits we’re pulling from Brando’s betting fights are getting close to what we make off drugs.
Before I knock on the office door, I hear a woman screaming over the roar of the crowd, and no question, she’s getting fucked.
Leaning against the wall, I light a cigarette.
What can I say? Even when I’m not chasing pussy, it chases me.
There’s still time before the main event, and I don’t want to cockblock Brando.
So I decide to be a gentleman, wait outside like a proper man, and fire up a quick sex call with one of my girls while he finishes fucking some girl senseless.
Right as I’m getting the girl off over the phone, I hear Brando’s roar.
Moments later, Brando steps out. His T-shirt’s soaked with sweat, clinging to the colorful tattoos covering his body.
His blond hair’s still slick and neat, which means he tied the girl up again. Brando’s got a thing for domination.
He raises an eyebrow when he sees me and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Maxim. Didn’t know you were coming.”
I glance over his shoulder at the girl passed out on the couch. Her hands are cuffed to her ankles, legs spread, her pussy red from the pounding. I look at the hand on my shoulder and smirk at Brando. “Your hand smells like pussy.”
He grins right back. “Your favorite kind of perfume.”
We start heading toward the cages when I ask, “You’re not going to uncuff her?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Couple hours in cuffs won’t kill her. Caught her skimming cash from the bar.”
Then he turns to me. “You place a bet?”
“Yeah. On Crab. If he loses, I’ll cut his dick off.”
He laughs. “You do realize losing in a death match means actual death, right?”
I shrug. “Didn’t say anything about life or death. I said I’m cutting his dick off. Because the only thing worse than a dead man... is a dead man with no dick.”
This time, he laughs louder and curses me out. “You sick son of a bitch.”
We reach the bar counter, and Brando pours us two shots. But before we can even knock them back, the alarm on our phones goes off. We both check our screens in a flash. This alert only goes off when Carlo or his family are in direct danger.
Without a word, we bolt for the exit. I jump behind the wheel while Brando calls Carlo and puts him on speaker. The second I hear Carlo’s voice, I feel a little less tense. At least he’s not the one in danger. From the background noise, I can tell he’s loading weapons.
As always, his voice is firm and commanding, “Follow the signal I’m sending you. Giorgio’s sending you the plate number and vehicle description. It’s a black van. Don’t make a move unless I say so.”
I slam my foot on the gas. “Who’s in the van, Carlo?”
There’s a pause before he answers. “The nanny and her kid.”
“Fucking hell,” Brando mutters under his breath.
Carlo hangs up and I’m left wondering, why the hell would anyone want to kidnap the carrot and her mom? And more importantly, why does Carlo care enough to have trackers on them? And the final question: why should we care?
One look at Brando’s face tells me he knows something I don’t. But this isn’t the time for questions. First, we save the little carrot. Then I’ll start digging into whatever the hell is going on between these two brothers.
Nearly an hour later, we spot them on a deserted road outside the city. Carlo caught up with us a few minutes ago with three vans full of armed men behind him. Even though our car’s bulletproof, I’m not taking any chances. I grab the vests from the back seat and toss one to Brando.
The black van finally clocks us and floors it. A couple of assholes lean out the windows and open fire. Carlo’s orders are clear: no one shoots. He’s probably worried the van isn’t bulletproof and the girls might get hit.
That leaves us with one option. We close in from all sides, weaving and pacing until we force them to a stop. About twenty armed men crouch behind our bulletproof rides, waiting for the bastards to burn through their last rounds.
Finally, silence.
The van doors slide open. The kidnappers climb out, dragging the redhead and the little carrot with them, keeping both in front of their bodies as human shields.
All I can hear is our ragged breathing and the wind cutting through the open road.
I peek around the car door. There’s three of them.
One’s got the little carrot, unconscious, a gun pressed to her head.
The other’s holding her mom, but I can’t see her face clearly.
The third guy’s waving his gun around, shouting threats, trying to sound tough. I bet all three of them have pissed their pants by now.
Carlo doesn’t leave his cover. He just raises his voice and speaks with deadly calm. “You know who I am?”
The guy’s voice shakes, but he barks back anyway. “How the fuck should I know, asshole? Let us go or I’ll blow both their brains out.”
“You’re talking to Carlo Bruni. And those girls are mine. You know what the punishment is for stealing from Carlo Bruni?”
All three flinch, clearly rattled. I glance at the carrot, limp like a broken doll in that bastard’s filthy grip. They drugged her. That much is obvious. My hand tightens around my gun. The mom doesn’t look much better, dazed and unsteady.
Carlo lets out a roar. “I swear on Don Fernando’s grave, if you let the girls go right now and walk away, I won’t come after you. You’ve got thirty seconds to decide.”
Don Fernando, Carlo’s father. The last Capo. A vow on his grave means Carlo’s dead serious. The three assholes exchange panicked looks. They’re cracking. At Carlo’s signal, the vehicle blocking the van slowly pulls aside.
Carlo speaks up again. “Driver, get behind the wheel. The other two, put the girls down and get the fuck out. You know I’m a man of my word.
But hear this: if that little girl has so much as a scratch on her, I won’t stop at killing you.
Before the week’s over, I’ll send every single person you’ve ever loved straight to hell.
Take the mercy I’m offering and disappear. ”
And they do. They know there’s no escape.
This is their one and only shot. The driver climbs behind the wheel and starts the engine.
The other two carefully lower the girls to the ground before backing away.
The moment they’re clear, they scramble into the van and slam the doors shut.
A second later, the van lurches forward and tears down the road.
The nanny collapses into sobs, cradling the unconscious carrot to her chest. Carlo rushes toward them. But I raise my gun, take aim, and fire. Two clean shots. Both rear tires explode, and the van skids, flips, and crashes into a ditch.
I meet Carlo’s glare with a shrug, “I didn’t swear on Don Fernando’s grave.”
He scoops the carrot up in his arms and starts hurrying toward one of the cars. “She’s not breathing right. We’re going to the hospital. Grab the mom.”
The girl tries to stand, barely managing to push herself up. Her thick, wavy red hair covers most of her face. I reach down and lift her into my arms. The moment she raises her head, I freeze in shock.
No fucking way I’m wrong. It’s her. Those honey-colored eyes.
Those freckles. That soft skin. Those full lips.
She’s the girl. The one I spent that night with three years ago.
And she recognizes me too. I can tell from the way her hand freezes on my chest, her body temperature drops, and her eyes go wide.
Amid the chaos around us, we stare at each other, unable to look away.
Carlo’s voice yanks me back. “Maxim, move. We need to go.”
The van has two rows of seats facing each other. I set her down across from Carlo and take the seat next to her. The car starts moving right away. She quickly pulls the little carrot out of Carlo’s arms and clutches her to her chest.
I stare at them both in silence, my mind’s running at full steam. In this life, you need muscle to survive, and brains to outlive. I’ve got both. Smart enough to piece the puzzle together now. I rewind the years, fast-forward, and land on a truth that stops my heart.
My wide eyes snaps to Carlo, who’s staring back with a knowing look, and I ask the question I already know the answer to.
“Is this my kid?”