Chapter 12
MARCO
“Don’t you think this is a little overkill, Armani?”
“Is that a serious question?” He pauses to stare at me before checking another weapon.
I roll my eyes. This guy.
Dante is leaning against the windowsill, watching but not watching in that way that he has with his thumb pressed against his lower lip as he stares blankly across the room.
“He’s right to be prepared,” he tells me. “Who the hell knows what we’ll find when we get there.”
After our own sources came up empty-handed, Armani had tapped an acquaintance on the Napa Police Department to investigate further into a location by the name of Piedmont Lake, Lake Piedmont, or any town within a five-hundred-mile radius with that name.
Originally, no such lake or town could be identified, even though I was sure Karina had given us good intel.
But after more digging, a guy who knew a guy who knew a woman who excels at finding unfindable things, people, and places was able to pinpoint a small, man-made pond on some private property about five hours north, between Shasta-Trinity National Forest and Klamath.
Bingo.
I have a hard time believing that the Brunos would go through the trouble of kidnapping Livvie from her safehouse on the East Coast and then drag her all the way across the country back here, just a few hours from her home.
I would think they wouldn’t want her in any way accessible to us.
But I don’t know Sergio Bruno well enough to think the way he does.
That’s Armani’s job. Maybe there are more moving pieces here than I can imagine.
Either way, we’re checking out the lead.
We can’t afford not to. Livvie’s life is at stake.
Armani fixes the lapels of his jacket and then crosses his arms, scowling at me and Dante.
“The three of us are going in there without backup. Just us. We are it. So you two yahoos better get as armed as possible. I can’t do the shooting for all of us if things go south.”
“It won’t go south,” Dante says.
“Come on, man, I’m the getaway driver,” I gripe. “Isn’t that enough?”
I’m only half kidding. Beyond being the baby brother who was always protected from the uglier aspects of the family business, guns are not my forte.
I’ve never been comfortable wearing one on me the way my brothers are, and I am man enough to admit that I’m not sure how I’d feel if I actually had to shoot somebody.
I got in plenty of fistfights in my younger years, but punching someone outside a bar is a hell of a distance from putting a bullet in them.
Then again, if it was Karina in Livvie’s place, wouldn’t I do anything I had to in order to get her back?
The thought gives me pause. It came out of nowhere, although…
considering the constant threat we’ve been under, it’s not surprising.
Yes, even now, despite our marital strife, I’d do anything it took to get her back home if she was taken.
And since Frankie can’t avenge her sister on her own, Dante is stepping up in her place.
And of course, Armani and I have his back.
“The only reason you’re coming at all is because you drive fast,” Dante says. He’s always taken his big brother role very seriously. “You’re sure this ghost car of yours is untraceable?”
“It’s got a license plate number that doesn’t exist. No VIN. No discernible markings. I leave the guns and killing to you. You leave the driving and the getaway to me.”
I have a couple projects I’ve been working on in my spare time.
One is a certain model and make of vehicle that is extremely fast and extremely difficult to get, which I may or may not have come by in a legal manner.
It arrived at my garage completely stripped of any identifying marks.
Untraceable. Since our map to this private property takes us through about eighty percent back roads, it shouldn’t be hard to avoid law enforcement.
But if we do run into somebody with intentions of pulling us over, we’ve got a pretty snazzy twin turbo V8 engine under the hood.
“I didn’t tell Frankie what we’re doing. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. She was having more of those false contractions last night and I can’t risk her going into early labor.”
“So, where does she think you’re going to be tonight?” I ask.
“You know, Marco, I’d like to say that as a good wife she knows better than to ask. But the reality is, my wife trusts me. And that’s the way it should be. If I say I’m going out for a while and I’ll be back later, that’s good enough.”
Karina didn’t even ask me where I’d been last night.
I had led her to believe that I was hooking up with Jessica, and even though I put the kibosh on that, Karina never once questioned me about it afterward.
Does that mean that she’s resigned herself to being married to an adulterer?
Or does she just think I’m full of shit?
Or…maybe she already knows how I feel about her, deep down.
Maybe she’s more perceptive than I give her credit for, and she’s decided she’s not wasting any time on my bullshit.
Dante checks his Patek Phillipe and lets out a breath. “It’s time.”
We are timing this so we will arrive at the cabin at just about dark.
Armani doesn’t want to risk too much traffic on the road, since it would increase our chance of running into law enforcement with our illegal vehicle.
Our contact might be able to get us off from a lot of things, but I’m not sure how he would explain the sheer number of weapons in our car.
We don’t speak much on the way there. All of us know that the chances of finding Livvie at the cabin are slim to zero, but I can’t be the only one who is hoping that by some miracle we will actually stumble upon her and be able to rescue her and bring her home safely. God, please.
Nerves are making my gut twist, so I try to focus on the road and blank out my mind as best I can.
Really, I should be exhausted after the sleepless night I had, but it’s the opposite.
I’m jittery, on edge, hyperaware. My racing thoughts won’t stop.
After I left Jessica last night, I drove for a long time.
Ended up on some roads I wasn’t sure about.
Took my time finding my way home. In that amount of time, I kept thinking about Livvie and where she might be locked up.
I kept seeing the stress lines on Frankie’s face, the perpetual dark circles under her eyes, the way she’s been clinging to Dante for support.
Realizing that I’m in love with my wife completely knocked me off my center.
But remembering my family’s problems put me back into place.
I had to do something. Had to press Karina for information.
She was literally our only hope. And she delivered.
Except that my brothers and I have no idea what exactly we’re going to find. It very well could be a dead end.
Hours of relative silence and a few terse phone calls later, we finally turn onto a narrow dirt road blocked by an aging iron gate.
Surprisingly, the rusty padlock is undone and hangs open.
Overgrowth suggests that this route is not used often, but we’re all still instantly on our guard.
A few tense miles later, we catch sight of the log house through the dense trees.
As I slow the car to a crawl, I see that recent tire tracks have crushed the unkempt foliage that’s encroached on the driveway.
Someone’s been here, I can’t tell how long ago.
Could be days, weeks. Today. Twilight is turning to full dark, but I can still make out the two-story cabin enough to note its state of neglect and semi-disrepair.
“Stop right here.” Armani’s voice is curt, and it gives me a fresh jolt of nerves.
Instead of turning down the drive, he has me park where overgrown bushes and thick branches somewhat hide us.
That, combined with the car’s matte black paint, should give us a slight advantage if we can manage a silent approach.
We still have a pretty good view of the cabin from here.
There’s a light on, illuminating a small window on the first floor.
“Look,” I say, pointing.
“Shit, someone’s coming.”
Armani hunkers down in his seat, and I don’t remind him that the windows are completely blacked out, quite illegally I might add. No one is seeing inside this car unless they open the door, and if they do that, they’re going to end up full of holes.
Seconds later, a silver Jeep appears, bouncing as it rolls over the dips and potholes of the dirt road.
The headlights don’t click on until they have almost passed us.
I catch a glimpse of a woman in the passenger seat and my pulse kicks.
Narrowing my eyes, I try to get a closer look, but it’s obvious that this woman is not Livvie.
The Jeep takes off the way we came, flashing out of sight.
“So we’ll assume we’re not alone,” Armani says flatly, his voice assassin-cold as he briefly adjusts his Walther. “We good to go?”
Armani’s already opening the door before Dante and I have a chance to answer. He slinks out of the car and keeps close to the forest edge, holding his weapon steadily in his hands as if he’s done this a million times before. Which, of course he has. This is second nature to him.
As we approach, we see a single vehicle parked alongside the porch.
Quick surveillance around the immediate area reveals no other vehicles.
Everything is quiet. No barking dogs, no voices, no footsteps crunching on the gravel suggesting someone on patrol.
Whoever is here is comfortable in their hiding place.
I’m still on high alert, but that feeling of an impending heart attack starts to lessen the tiniest bit.
“I’m going in. Don’t move a muscle until I’m through the door,” Armani instructs.