Chapter 36 Alik
ALIK
Iknow she’s gone before I open my eyes. Sera’s side of the bed is empty, the sheets cool. Sitting up, I search the darkened room, my body still humming with the aftereffects of what we did in this bed. Fuck… Of what she did on her knees.
It’s only been a few hours since we lost ourselves in each other, but my dick is already half-hard and begging for another round.
It doesn’t help that I can still feel the slide of her hair through my hands as I rutted between her lips and the hot, soft heat that enveloped me when she welcomed me into her mouth.
I could’ve died like that. Have definitely become obsessed with it. With her. As I abandon the bed and head to the living room in search of her, I let that certainty settle into my gut.
I belong to Sera.
Obsession, devotion. Commitment.
Love.
Whatever you want to call it, I am so past gone for this woman I can’t think about a present that doesn’t involve her.
Can’t picture a future that doesn’t have her in it.
She is the better part of me, the stronger half.
The one who’s pulled me out of the darkness after my sister’s death and given me something to strive for. To live for.
For the first time in years, I feel like I’m fighting for a future instead of just battling the past. I have Sera to thank for that. Something I’d like to do in person, very thoroughly, as soon as I find her.
The suite’s living room is empty. The bathroom is dark, silent.
There’s nothing but snow outside on the balconies.
Unease snakes up my spine as I retrieve my jeans and phone from where we left them on the floor.
A quick check of the camera feed confirms that Sera left the suite about forty-five minutes ago, fully dressed, carrying her coat.
“Where the fuck did you go, moya voitelnitsa?” I scroll back in the footage, unease turning into full-blown dread when I see Sera making a phone call before she left.
Everything about what I’m watching puts me on high alert.
Sera barely uses her phone and hasn’t initiated a call in all the time she’s had it.
Even on the video feed I can tell she’s tense, bracing herself for something.
That something—whatever the hell it is—gets significantly more suspect when I see her slide her phone into the back of her jeans, followed by the gun.
What. The. Fuck?
I struggle back a million questions and worse-case-scenarios as I pound out a text to Anatoli, throw on my clothes, and rush out the door.
Anatoli meets me in my office and immediately says, “Sergey confirms he and some men saw Miss Sera on the ground floor about forty minutes ago. She was dressed to go outside. Had her coat, too. She told Sergey to take her down to Dimitri.”
“And di Salvo? Any updates on what happened to him after he took a swan dive off Sera’s balcony?”
“No, sir.” Anatoli looks as pissed as I feel. “We couldn’t find any signs of that lowlife, and whatever route he used to get off the property got covered by the snow.”
“Fuck.” Is it too much to ask for that asshole to be dead?
I scan the various video feeds from the house. Now that I know where to look it’s easy to track Sera and Sergey down to the basement, but once she hits the medical ward all the feeds go dark.
Dr. Ruiz won’t let me record her while she’s on premises. It was the deal we made when she started working for me. There could never be a record of her working for the bratva. And now there’s no record of where Sera went after she reached that part of the basement.
We have to find her. I’m just hoping against hope that she’s still in the mansion.
“Wake up every man in this house,” I order Dimitri’s deputy.
“Search every fucking corner for her. The grounds too. If anyone finds anything that even hints at where she is, you tell me immediately. No one gets any sleep until she’s found. ”
Anatoli is on the move before I’m done talking, mobilizing our troops.
As much as I want to hope she’s somewhere on the property, I can’t ignore the fact that the man who tattooed her for sale could still be alive.
And if he is, he’s definitely still hunting her.
And he’s not above luring her out of the house with a threatening phone call…
With Dimitri out of commission, I need another set of well-informed eyes and ears in the city. Someone as familiar with the Pagano business as I am. Di Salvo killed Rocco without approval from Cosenza and the Cerretis. Which means they’re hunting him, too.
As much as I hate to admit it, the Italians work fast. They might know where the bastard is hiding.
My call to Gio Marchetti rings on speaker as I open my tracking app and search for Sera’s phone. She had it with her when she left the suite. I can only hope that she still has it and it’s turned on.
Relief slams into me when I see the dot appear on the map, but it’s quickly consumed by real fear when I see exactly where the dot is.
In the middle of Lake Michigan.
Gio Marchetti answers my call, his irritatingly calm voice breaking through the roaring in my ears. “Checking up on the body disposal? Don’t worry, Russian, I dealt with Pagano. I even let Cosenza yell at me so he wouldn’t have to call you and do it.”
I skip all the pleasantries. “Where is di Salvo? Tell me you have eyes on him.”
There’s no concealing my tension and Marchetti focuses instantly. “I can get his live location. Give me two minutes.”
I can’t tear my eyes off the dot in the middle of the water. Snow is swirling outside. The air temperature is frigid; the water will be glacial. Sera can’t survive out there. There’s no way.
My legs start to shake. I brace myself against my desk, forcing my lungs to keep collecting oxygen. I can’t find her if I pass out.
Think, motherfucker. Think.
Through sheer willpower, I kick my brain back into action. It clunks and sputters but slowly I clear the panicked fog and realize: if her phone is still sending out a signal, it can’t be nine hundred feet below water.
I refocus on the dot and see what I missed the first time. It’s moving. Too fast for waves. It’s traveling quickly, on something like…a boat?
That’s when Marchetti chimes in, “Di Salvo’s phone places him at a shitty little marina on the south-western side of the lake.”
I zoom out on the map. The dot is heading in the same direction, to the west bank of Lake Michigan, south of the Wisconsin state line.
There’s no way in hell it’s a coincidence. I have no clue why Sera would sneak away and hop on a boat in the middle of a fucking snowstorm, but the evidence points to her doing exactly that.
“She’s heading straight for di Salvo.”
“Who is?” Gio asks.
“My future wife.” It comes out of nowhere and while Gio grunts in surprise, the words settle into my chest cavity with absolute rightness.
“Then we better get her back before things go completely tits up,” the Italian says. “Get your ass in gear, Valentin. I’ll drop you a pin. Meet me as soon as you can.”
I grunt in agreement before disconnecting the call. It only takes seconds to make sure my weapons are strapped in place before I sprint to the garage and jump onto my motorcycle.
One last look at my phone confirms that Marchetti has sent di Salvo’s location, and Sera is headed straight for it.
Her boat has the advantage of traveling in a straight line.
My route is full of back roads and snow-covered turns that I take way too fast. Every second it takes to get closer to Sera feels like a lifetime.
By the time I get to a straight stretch of road, I’m driving into a wall of snow.
Everything is white and heavy, and every few feet I feel like I’m doing the slalom.
I just catch myself from wiping out after a particularly treacherous slide when a car races up beside me.
The driver’s window goes down and Gio appears, pointing ahead of us.
“Di Salvo is on the move,” he shouts. “They’ve got to be in a car. ”
We have to go faster.
Marchetti and I both accelerate as much as we dare, speeding down the empty asphalt at a reckless rate. With the storm, every sane person is inside, so the road is blessedly empty.
Another mile, then another, and then I see the tap of brake lights ahead. Neck and neck with each other, Gio and I share a look. It has to be di Salvo. I drop my eyes to my phone long enough to confirm that Sera’s dot is within shooting distance of where we are. Straight ahead of us.
She’s in the car with him.
Anticipation and adrenaline start a pissing match in my bloodstream.
I’m so close to reaching her. I’m so close to destroying her father, once and for all.
Grim with determination, I gesture to Gio, indicating that I’m going for the right side of the car.
He nods, steers to the left. We’re going to flank di Salvo and maneuver him until we can stop the car without Sera getting hurt.
Please, God. Don’t let her be hurt.
I’m a few yards away from my target when di Salvo’s car suddenly slows. I brake fast, skidding as I wrangle my bike to avoid rear-ending them. I get the machine under control just as a body comes flying out of the dark Mercedes ahead.
It breaks against the road, the thud loud enough I can hear it over the engines. The limbs flail and twist in unnatural directions, the torso corkscrewing until it’s a mangled mess of flesh and bone.
It’s too dark for me to see who it is.
Oh, God. I can’t see who it is.
I break my bike, skidding several feet before I can jump off and sprint forward.
The pounding in my ears amplifies into a high-pitched hum and I feel entirely disconnected from my legs as I run as fast as I ever have. I don’t register the slide of my knees against the ground or the ripping of my jeans as I crash down next to the lifeless form.
Everywhere, the snow is stained red. I can barely breathe just looking at it, but I have to find the head, search for the face.
I almost choke on a prayer when I find what I’m looking for and confirm it’s not Sera. Slava Bogu. The body broken almost to the point of being unrecognizable is Renzo di Salvo. The evil fucker is dead.
I stare down at him, then up at the car that’s accelerating away from me. If di Salvo is dead at my feet, then who has Sera?
“Is it…?” Gio skids across the snow in his fancy fucking shoes.
“It’s di Salvo. Not Sera.” I’m already returning to my bike.
“Meno male. But then—who the fuck is in the car with her?”
“Get in your fucking car. We’re about to find out.” I’m barely done speaking before we’re blinded by headlights. They’re shining at us straight on, bouncing off the snow, getting brighter and brighter the closer the oncoming vehicle gets. It’s moving fast, right for Gio’s Bugatti.
We can see the collision before it happens.
Gio flings out his arms, stopping his forward momentum before he changes direction and lurches back toward me.
We both haul our asses as far from his Bugatti as fast as we can.
I have to abandon my bike as we race for the side of the road where Renzo’s body is.
The oncoming headlights get brighter. We run faster, trying like hell to clear the road before the sad bastard driving at us crashes into Gio’s car.
The engine revs.
I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see it barrel past the sedan carrying Sera and straight into the Bugatti. Except, the driver in the oncoming vehicle—a beast of a Cadillac—makes a last-minute turn.
They’re only a few yards away from the Mercedes when they turn straight toward it. There’s no screech of tires grasping at the road, only the sound of the engine revving. Whoever is behind the wheel hits the gas, not the breaks, and the Cadillac barrels full speed into the black sedan.
The two-ton machine lifts off the ground and I swear to God I reach out, delusional and panicked beyond rational thought, as if I can catch it, stop it. As if I can save Sera from being scrambled inside as it barrel-rolls toward us.
“Alik. NO!” Gio is grabbing at me, but I’m running toward the car, not away from it. Which is how I’m in the absolute wrong place at the wrong time, my head in the perfect spot when a chunk of the Mercedes’s chassis comes loose and clocks me in the skull, muting my scream and knocking me out cold.