Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Luka’s stomach rolled, but it wasn’t the usual problem causing the sensation. It was the boat lurching in the waves that had him on the edge of vomiting. As much as he loved swimming, he’d never been able to master seasickness. Even flights and long car rides made him queasy and unwell.
Of all the ways he’d imagined their kidnapping ending, this wasn’t it. A boat. On the Adriatic Sea. Far from shore. Far from help.
“Are you okay?” Elona asked from the dark corner of the cramped room where they’d been stowed.
She sat on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her.
Her ankles were tied together with thick plastic zip ties.
So were her wrists, but they were in front of her, looped around the leg of a table bolted to the floor.
“I’m fine,” he lied through gritted teeth.
Wincing, he tried to roll his shoulders and stretch his aching neck.
His arms had been tied tightly behind the cheap metal chair he sat on, and the plastic cable ties cut into his wrists.
He’d been pulling on them for an hour at least, absolutely shredding his skin, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“You’re going to dislocate your shoulder,” Elona warned.
“If that happens, I’ll be able to get free.” He tugged harder, twisting his upper body in a vain attempt to get loose.
“And then what?” she hissed. “You can’t fight with a dislocated shoulder.”
“As long as I’m breathing, I’ll fight,” he promised. Wracked with guilt, he eyed her, wondering how the hell he was going to get them out of this. Hours ago, they were in bed, and he was worshipping her body. Now, they were both battered, exhausted and facing a mafia execution.
“I hope it’s quick,” Elona remarked, her voice surprisingly calm. “Like a bullet to the head. Get it over with.”
“Don’t say that!” He couldn’t bear to hear her talking about her death in that way. “You’re not going to die.”
“I’d rather go fast than end up tortured or raped,” she reasoned.
His stomach violently pitched. “No one is going to torture or rape you.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t think you can make that promise, Luka.”
“Fuck!” He pulled harder at his bonds. Just as she warned, he felt the telltale searing pain in his shoulder joint. If he kept pulling like this, he really was going to dislocate something.
“Stop!” she hissed sharply. “Just stop.”
“Fine!” His aching shoulders slumped with defeat.
“How many of them do you think there are?” Elona glanced toward the locked door of the small cabin.
“Only the five that captured us at the hotel and survived.”
“You’re sure?”
“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I was hooded like you were when they brought us on board, but I didn’t hear more than five voices. So, unless there are more men hidden on the boat, I think it’s only five.”
“With weapons,” she said, working through the problem. “Even if we can get loose and fight, we can’t dodge bullets. Maybe we could survive a stabbing but a gun?” She shook her head. “We’re not that lucky.”
“So what? We sit here and wait for them to kill us?”
“Maybe they’re holding us for ransom?” she asked hopefully. “My stepdad will move heaven and earth to find me and get me back.”
“I pray that’s true.” Hope flared in his chest at the idea that she would survive this. “If they do come to take you away and trade you, go with them. Don’t fight. Don’t argue. Just go.”
“And leave you here to die?”
He chortled. “Twenty-four hours ago, you would have handed me over with a smile on your face.”
“That was before I knew that you’re—.”
“I’m what?” He eyed her with interest. “Not a monster?”
Her gaze softened. “You’re not a monster, Luka.”
“I’m not a saint either.”
“Neither am I,” she said quietly.
“I find that very hard to believe.”
Her mouth slanted in a sad smile. “If I told you the truth, you’d be disgusted with me.”
“I could never be disgusted with you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know,” he insisted. “Look at me, Elona.” He commanded her gaze and wouldn’t let her look away from him. “No matter what secret you have, I’ll accept it. I won’t judge you.” He exhaled tiredly. “I’m tired of judging. I’m tired of fighting.”
“So am I,” she agreed in a pained whisper. She swallowed hard. “I think if we’d had more time I could have fallen in love with you.”
His heart hammered against his sternum. “We’ll have more time. We’re getting out of this. Together.”
“Oh, Luka,” she said, her voice breaking and her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Elona.” Her name left his tongue on a desperate note. Trapped, wounded, separated. He wanted to hold her again, to console and comfort her. He wanted to protect and save her.
I really am the worst fucking failure.
He didn’t get to wallow in self-pity long. The door to their cabin was wrenched open, and another person was thrown into the room. As the man stumbled forward and landed on his knees, Luka recognized him. It was Skender—and he was badly beaten.
His face looked swollen and mushy. Both eyes were nearly shut, and his right ear had a large slice missing from the shell. His pale hair was dyed red with blood, some of it old and thick and black. His polo shirt was torn, revealing nasty burn marks up and down his chest.
“Skender!” Elona shouted for her brother and tried to reach him. She extended her bound hands as far as they would go but she couldn’t get to him. “Oh my god! Skender!”
He crawled and dragged himself toward his sister, leaving bloody smears on the cracked vinyl flooring. He couldn’t breathe through his nose so he sucked in labored lungfuls of air, spitting out droplets of blood with each desperate pull of oxygen. “Elona.”
“Come here. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” She used her bare feet to tug him closer. He collapsed on her lap, rolling on his side and groaning with exertion. “Skender, who hurt you?”
Luka eyed the closed door. Adrenaline surged through his body. “Is there anyone else on the boat? Your family? Mine?”
Skender sobbed pitifully. “I’m sorry, Elona. I didn’t know it would turn out like this.”
“It’s okay,” she cooed, forgiving him of whatever sin he had committed. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It’s not, and now we’re all going to die.” Skender’s whole body shook as he wept. “She lied to me. It was all a lie.”
“Who? Lia?” Elona asked, trying to make sense of her brother’s babbling.
“Who is Lia?” Luka demanded.
“His girlfriend,” Elona explained.
“No, not mine. His.” Ire burned in Skender’s voice. “It was him the whole time.”
“Him? Who?” Luka asked sharply. “Zec? Were you working with Zec? And your mother? And Your grandfather?”
Skender didn’t answer, and Luka growled in irritation.
It had to be Zec. He was the only one brave enough to make this move.
He was the only one who could wipeout two mafia families and emerge victorious and in power.
He had enough contacts with the Russians and the other powerful organizations in their area to gain support and legitimacy.
That betrayal hurt. It cut at his heart. Slashed him deep. Zec was blood through his father’s side. He was family, and Luka had always respected him. Trusted him. Revered him.
Stupid. I was so fucking stupid not to see it.
The door opened again, and Luka steeled himself for the pain that was sure to follow. If Zec had worked over Skender like that, whatever awaited him was bound to be a hundred times worse.
But the man who walked through that door was the one Luka suspected least.
He thought he’d known what betrayal was when he believed the man behind all of this was Zec. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Kristo?” Elona choked out his cousin’s name in utter disbelief.
Kristo, his face freshly shaved and his hair cut even shorter, shrugged as if he’d just revealed himself as the prankster behind some big joke. “The one and only.”
Elona’s panicked gaze jumped between his face and his cousin’s, as if she wanted him to argue and say that it was all a mistake. He couldn’t do that. Like her, he was reeling at the betrayal.
“All this time,” Luka said finally, his heart breaking. He took in the red soaking Kristo’s gray T-shirt. Skender’s blood. His cousin’s knuckles weren’t busted or swollen, but the shirt had large sweat stains from exertion. What had be using on the kid? A baton? Something worse?
“Not the entire time,” Kristo corrected.
“Abu Dhabi?” he guessed, certain that rotting in prison for two years had been the catalyst that turned his cousin against him.
“No, actually,” Kristo replied. “It was two years before that when you laughed at me in front of Besian and Zec and all the other captains.”
Luka searched his mind for the memory. “I never laughed at you. I never bullied you. I loved you like a brother.”
“But not really,” Kristo cut in acidly. “When I suggested I marry Rina, you cut me down so quick.”
“That?” Luka asked, aghast. “That was—I thought you were joking!” He recalled the poker game evening at Zec’s seaside villa. Paolo Barella, the Raffaelli capo with the birthmark on his face, had been there playing that night, too.
Had he been complaining about Rina? Probably. She had been an absolute pain in his ass around that time, always trying to break the rules and push the boundaries. Vaguely, he remembered Kristo offering to marry her. He’d laughed thinking it was an outlandish joke.
“I wasn’t!” Kristo shouted. “I could have kept her in line. It would have cemented my position in the family. It would have proven how essential I am to you.”
“You were essential to me!” Luka shouted right back. “You had a position. Right next to me. As my friend. My confidante. My brother.”
“But not good enough for your sister.”
“You’re our cousin!” Luka exploded with disgust. “Our mothers were sisters!” Staggered by his cousin’s crazy reason for the betrayal, he shook his head. “All of this because you thought I was making fun of you?”