Luca
I’ve waited so fucking long to hear her tell me she loves me.
I won’t deny wanting to take her in my arms and promise her the world. But once again, life is a giant fucking shitshow.
If I were a spiritual man, I’d think God was against me.
I’m in my car, heading back to who knows where. All my leads have dried up.
My phone buzzes, Roman's name flashing across the screen. I poke the answer button on my steering wheel.
"I found something," Roman says. "The Santa. One of my guys spotted someone matching his description at a motel off Route 9."
I'm already making an illegal U-Turn, nearly ramming a limo. "Text me the address. I'm on my way."
“Marco and I are on the way. If you get there first, wait—”
I hang up the call. My son doesn’t have time for me to wait for anyone.
The drive blurs past.
All I can think about is Rocco scared and alone.
All because I was in a pissing contest with Dom.
No wonder Elena didn’t want to tell me about the kids.
She’s right.
My pride has gotten in the way of doing what’s best for the kids.
I love you. I always have.
Dammit.
I come to a screeching halt in the parking lot.
The motel is exactly what you'd expect, peeling paint, flickering vacancy sign, the kind of place that charges by the hour.
Fuck. What room is he in?
A black SUV pulls in and Roman steps out.
“Marco is stuck in traffic.” He nods toward the motel. "Room 14. Manager confirmed the guy checked in this afternoon wearing a Santa suit. Paid from a wad of cash.”
“He didn’t see Rocco?” I ask, scanning for room 14.
“No, but he says that doesn’t mean a boy wasn’t with him.” Roman puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know what you’re feeling, man—”
“I don’t know how you could.”
“Two years ago, someone broke into my place and kidnapped Isabella. Would have taken Angelica if she hadn’t hid under the bed. So yes, I know. But you’ve got to keep your head about you.”
I vaguely remember hearing the story about Isabella’s kidnapping. “Did you keep your head about you?”
He gives his head a light shake. “Probably not, but still.”
We approach the room silently, guns drawn.
The curtains are drawn, but light seeps through the edges.
Roman positions himself on one side of the door while I take the other. With a nod, he kicks it open.
The stench hits me first. Booze and sweat and desperation.
The Santa suit is crumpled in the corner, beard stained with what looks like whiskey.
The man himself is sprawled across the bed, an empty bottle dangling from his fingertips.
No sign of Rocco.
“Rocco!”
The man bolts up, bleary eyed.
I cross the room in three strides, hauling the drunk to his feet by his stained undershirt.
"Where is Rocco?" I slam him against the wall, pressing my forearm into his throat. "Where the fuck is my son?"
His bloodshot eyes widen in terror. "I don't–I don't know what you're—"
I press harder, watching his face turn purple. "The boy from the winter festival. The one you took. Where is he?"
"Luca." Roman's voice cuts through the rage pounding in my ears. "He can't tell us anything if he's dead."
I ease the pressure slightly, just enough to let him gasp for air. "Start talking. Now."
"I swear, I didn't take him!" His eyes dart frantically between Roman and me. "Some guy paid me five grand to walk the kid to a car. That's it!"
"What guy?" I press the barrel of my gun under his chin. "Name. Description. Everything."
"Never saw him before!" Sweat pours down his face. The stench of urine tells me he’s pissed his briefs. "Tall, dark hair. Expensive suit.”
Roman moves closer. "And you just handed a child to a stranger?"
"He said he was saving the kid.”
“Did the kid look relieved to be saved?” What a fucking moron.
“Uh… no, but…”
My patience shatters.
I pistol-whip him across the face, blood spraying from his split lip.
"My son is missing because of you," I growl, striking him again. His knees buckle but I hold him upright. "Where did they go?"
"Black SUV! That's all I know!" He's sobbing now, blood and snot mixing on his face. "Please—"
I press the gun into his temple. "Not good enough."
"Luca," Roman warns, but I'm beyond reason.
"You have three seconds before I paint this wall with your brains."
"He said," the man chokes out, "he said he was saving him! That the kid needed to be rescued from monsters!"
My finger tightens on the trigger. "What?"
"He kept saying the boy deserved better than to be raised by a killer."
I look over my shoulder at Roman. “Does that mean anything to you?”
He shrugs. “No.”
I release Santa, who crumples to the floor.
No one would save him from being raised by Elena. She’s not a killer. But I am.
“I have two ideas.”
“Which are?” Roman asks.
“Gio Sarto—”
“Dom’s man?”
I nod. “Yes. He believes I killed Umberto Vitale. The other is Blackwood, who approached Elena just last night.”
“That mother fucker. I really hoped he’d give up. It’s bad enough that Dom has that agent, Ricci, on his ass.”
I grab Santa by his hair, forcing him to look at me. "One last chance. Did he say where he was taking my boy?"
I raise my gun, finger tightening on the trigger.
Santa's whimpering turns to full-blown sobbing. "He didn't say! I swear to God!"
"Then you're useless to me," I snarl, pressing the barrel harder against his temple.
Strong hands suddenly grip my shoulders, yanking me backward. Marco appears at my side, his face grim as he steps between me and my target.
"Not like this, Luca," Marco says, his voice low but commanding. "He could still be useful.”
I don’t see how. He’s soaked in booze and piss.
"He's a witness. The only one who's seen the man with Rocco."
"I don't care," I growl, but I know they’re right.
"Killing our only lead could hinder finding Rocco," Marco reasons, his calm cutting through my rage. "We need him alive, for identification, for testimony if needed."
The logic penetrates my fury and I step away.
"We'll make him talk," Roman promises, his eyes cold as he glances at the trembling Santa. "There are better ways to get information than a bullet." He waggles his brows. “I’ve got a bat.”
"Fine. But when we find who’s behind this—”
"That kill is yours," Marco assures me. "No one touches your son and lives."
Marco and Roman are handling Santa, but he’s useless.
“Has anyone heard from Dom?” I ask.
“I haven’t,” Marco says.
“Luca thinks Gio could be behind this.”
“That old fart?”
Roman shrugs. “It’s no secret he wants to avenge Umberto for Aldo.”
I snort. “Aldo killed Umberto.”
Both men gape at me. “What?”
“Umberto had a list of men he believed were behind the arrest, and according to a cell mate, Umberto knew he’d be murdered in prison. My father was suspicious as well, but… his mind isn’t what it was.”
“Jesus.” Marco shakes his head. “I never trusted Aldo, but his own brother?”
“Gio was there today and then he wasn’t,” I argue.
“He’s a toe the line sort of soldier and I don’t believe Dom would okay a hit on you.”
“Dom is weak. He could have cleared my name with Aldo’s men and he didn’t.” Just saying Dom’s name gives me a bad taste in my mouth.
“The guy said he’s saving the boy from a killer. If he believes Luca killed Umberto, it could make sense,” Roman says, although I’m not sure he really buys it.
I need to find Gio.
“I’ll call Dom,” Marco says, but I’m already out the door and heading to the location I was supposed to meet Umberto the day he was arrested. I could totally see Gio thinking it was some sort of karma.
“Where are you going?” Marco calls after me.
“To kill Gio.”
"Luca, wait," Marco calls. "We need a plan."
"Here's the plan. I find Gio, I kill Gio, I bring my son home." My voice is deadly calm now, the initial panic replaced by cold determination. "Anyone who tries to stop me joins him in the ground."
Roman nods grimly. "Let him go. We’ll call Dom and work on Santa. Let me get my bat."
I pause at the threshold. "Call Dom if you want. Tell him what we know. But make it clear, Gio is mine."
In one night, I’ve traversed the city from one end to the other and back.
I pull up to the warehouse.
There’s a single car parked outside.
I grab my gun and move quickly but quietly to the building.
Through the frosted window, I catch a glimpse of Gio standing in the middle of the empty space.
The door splinters under my boot. Gio whirls, dropping his phone as he reaches for his weapon. Too slow. My gun is already trained between his eyes.
"Move and you die," I growl. "Where’s Rocco?"
Gio's face twists with disgust. "You don't deserve to call yourself his father. You lost your own kid and now you’re blaming me?"
"Says the man who kidnapped him." I keep my gun steady. "What were you thinking, Gio? That Dom wouldn't figure it out? That I wouldn't find you?"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But that kid is better off without you. Someone had to protect Umberto's legacy." His voice drips with contempt. "You helped kill him. You shouldn’t be anywhere near his grandchildren."
"You stupid bastard. I didn't betray Umberto. Your precious Don Aldo did."
“Fuck you, Monti.”
“No, fuck you, you dumbass. Aldo must have known you were an idiot not to tell you his plan.To let you buy into his scheme to frame me.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re blind. Aldo wanted his brother gone. He set him up, then blamed me to cover his tracks. And you bought it hook, line and sinker, just like he wanted. You’re so stupid, you couldn't see you were serving the real traitor all along."
Gio shakes his head, but I catch the first hint of doubt in his eyes. "You're lying."
"Am I? Then why hasn’t Dom ever moved against me?" My finger tightens on the trigger. "Because he knew the truth, Gio."
I keep my gun trained on Gio. One twitch and I could end this. Revenge for Umberto, for the years I lost, for taking my son.
"Where's Blackwood?" I demand, voice deadly calm despite the rage coursing through me. "I know you're working with him."
Confusion flashes across Gio's face. "Blackwood? The FBI agent?" He shakes his head vehemently. "You’re the one who’s an idiot. I didn’t take your kid and I don't work with Feds. Never have."
"Bullshit. Why are you here then?”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“Nope, you don’t.” I press the gun against his temple. “It wasn’t nice knowing you.”
“Jesus fuck, Luca. I’m here because Dom said something about Aldo being behind everything. This is where it started, so I came down here.”
“After seven years, you thought you’d find something?” I shake my head in disbelief. He really is a dumb fuck. How did he make this long? More likely, he’s making shit up to confuse me. “Where did Blackwood take my son?”
Gio's eyes hold steady on mine. "I hate your guts, Monti. I won't deny that. But I'd never hand one of our own to the Feds, especially not Umberto's grandson."
Something in his voice gives me pause. If Gio had taken Rocco, he'd be gloating right now, throwing it in my face that he'd "rescued" my son from me. Instead, he looks as bewildered as I feel.
"If not you, then who?" I press the gun harder against his temple.
"I don't know. But if Blackwood has Rocco, killing me won't help you find him."
My mind races, weighing possibilities against probabilities. Gio's a lot of things, loyal to his dead Don to a fault, vindictive, stubborn, but he's no actor.
"Fuck!" I lower my weapon, shoving him hard against the wall. "If I find out you're lying to me…"
"I'm not." He straightens his jacket, eyeing me warily. "I want to find who took Umberto's grandson as much as you do."
“And you think he’s here?”
“Like I said, it all started here. Maybe whoever took him is sending a message to you. That’s why you’re here, right? You think it’s me.”
I step back, holstering my gun. "Get out of here.” I want to look around on my own.
Gio nods stiffly, moving toward the door. "For what it's worth, Monti, I hope you find the boy and then leave Elena alone. She was doing fine without you."
On that we both agree.
As he disappears into the snowy night, doubt gnaws at me.
Have I just let Rocco's kidnapper walk free?
Or is Blackwood gone rogue, frustrated that he hasn’t brought La Corona down?
Or maybe there’s someone else I haven't considered.
Either way, I'm back to square one, with my son's life hanging in the balance.
The crack of a gunshot shatters the night.
I'm moving before my mind fully registers the sound, instinct propelling me through the door and into the darkness.
I sprint toward where Gio disappeared moments ago.
"Gio!" I shout, drawing my weapon.
I round his car and stop dead. Gio's body lies sprawled on the pavement, a dark stain spreading beneath him.
His eyes stare sightlessly at the stars, mouth frozen in permanent surprise. One clean shot to the head. Professional, efficient.
"Fuck." I drop to my knees beside him, checking for a pulse I know isn't there.
Suddenly, I wonder if Gio is a part of this and someone just eliminated the ability for him to talk?
No doubt, Dom will assume I executed his man in retaliation for Rocco's kidnapping. The implications cascade through my mind as I dial Dom’s number.
Dom answers on the second ring. "Tell me you found Rocco."
“Gio’s dead.” I cut straight to it. "Someone put a bullet in his head right after I let him walk."
Silence stretches between us. Then, "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't give a fuck what you believe," I snap. "Someone is fucking around with us and they still have my son."