CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR DAMON
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DAMON
NOW
Fucking Ronan.
They were long gone when I came out of the restroom, but when I went to start my car to follow the tracker I slipped into Chloe’s pocket during our scuffle, I found it dead.
And there’s only one person that could be responsible.
My own fucking brother.
It took me almost an hour to reconnect the wires and get the engine started, and by the time I make it to the motel the tracker tells me Chloe is in, there’s no one in sight.
Her car is parked out front, but that doesn’t mean her room is nearby, and the only other car I see is Ronan’s, which is also empty.
I was due to check in with Dad an hour ago, but telling him that I’m not closer to securing the girl is not an argument I feel like having right now, not when I currently have no plan to get her away from the blond-haired asshole.
Tapping the steering wheel a few times, I try to decide what my best move is here.
I haven’t slept since sometime yesterday, so I should take this opportunity to get a room and get some shut eye. But they could leave while I’m sleeping, and as soon as she’s behind the De Marco walls again, it’s going to be next to impossible to get her out.
This is my only chance to grab her, and I need to make the most of it.
But I could use a shower and something to eat, which is why I climb out of the car and stride toward the front office.
The guy behind the counter glances up and sighs, as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Which is probably fair, we are in the middle of nowhere, and I’d also like to get the fuck out of here.
“You Damon?” he asks.
My brow dips in confusion, but I give him a slow nod.
He runs a hand through his messy blond hair before dropping a key on the counter. “It’s the third room on the right.”
I open my mouth to ask how the hell he knows my name and why he was expecting me, but I snap it shut and swipe up the key, following his directions before I can second-guess myself.
Unlocking the door, I shove it open and find my brother sitting at a tiny table on a chair that looks seconds away from crumbling beneath his weight.
“Did it really take you that long to fix your car?” He chuckles.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
He doesn’t bother responding as he shovels a forkful of rice into his mouth, nodding to the box across from him.
My stomach rumbles at the sight of food, and even though I want to tell him to fuck off, I’ve never been one to refuse a meal.
“She and the bodyguard are in the room next door.”
“Why are you telling me when you know I’m going to try to take her back to Miami?”
He shrugs. “They’re not exactly hiding, and I thought I’d save the guy in the office from a threat of bodily harm.”
I glare across the table at him before taking a bite of my own rice. It’s bland and dry, but at least it’s better than the bag of Jolly Ranchers I ate on the way up here.
My stomach is still mad about all that sugar.
“So what’s the plan here, Ro? You planning to run away with her? Start a new life with a picket fence and two point three kids? The bodyguard seems pretty attached, so you’re going to have to get rid of him.”
He sighs, placing his food down on the table and leaning back in the chair that creaks beneath his weight. Yeah, these things were not built for anyone our size. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you better figure it out, because if Dad finds out you’re protecting her, he’s going to kill you himself.”
“You going to tell him?” he challenges.
I don’t reply straight away, because the truth is, I don’t know what I’m going to do if he keeps following her around like a lost puppy.
He’s not going to let me take her, which means if I’m going to do this, I’m going to have to get them both on the jet against their will, which frankly seems like more than a one person job.
Or I let them go. I tell Dad they slipped away in the dead of night and take whatever punishment he sees fit. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a beating for the two of them, but at least it would be the last.
The idea has merit, but even as I consider it, I know I’m not going to do it. There’s too much at stake. My whole life has been building to when I would become the leader of the Lombardi family, and I don’t intend to let Chloe fucking Weaver delay it…again.
She’s cost me too much. I won’t let her cost me this as well, even if it’s going to break my brother’s heart.
He’ll get over it, and he’ll be stronger for it.
“You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I deadpan.
“I think you want to let her go. I think you know what happened back then was wrong, and now you want to allow her to live her new life in peace.”
I laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re a lethal motherfucker, and if you truly wanted to take her back to Miami, she’d already be locked up in the cellar at home.
You’ve taken out entire teams of men that posed a threat to the family with your own two hands, yet you expect me to believe you couldn’t take down Ryker and knock Chloe out long enough to get her on the jet? ”
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly snap it shut again. Because he’s right. The asshole is absolutely fucking correct.
Last month I took down a whole MC before my backup could arrive because they dared to deal drugs on our territory.
And a few months before that I took down an attempt to ambush one of our shipments without bothering to call for help at all.
I am more than capable of nabbing a five-foot-nothing woman without breaking a fucking sweat.
So why haven’t I?
Ronan’s smug smile does nothing to ease the annoyance building in my chest as he takes another bite of flavorless rice.
One of the many problems with being born just eleven months apart is that he knows me just as well as he knows himself. We may as well be twins considering how close we are, but this is the one thing that’s always torn us apart.
Chloe.
“You know, admitting you don’t want her dead doesn’t make you weak. She was your friend for a long time. You were just as close to her as you were me when we were growing up. It makes sense that you’re hesitant to follow Dad’s order when you know she hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“She betrayed us!”
“No, her father may have betrayed us, but I’ve never seen any evidence of that, have you?”
I’m about to argue when I realize he’s right. Dad told me he was a traitor, and I believed him. I watched as both of Chloe’s parents were tortured in front of her, and it never even occurred to me to check that whatever they had done was worth such a punishment.
Not once did it occur to me that my father could be wrong or that he could be doing it for his own gain rather than that of the family.
“At what point do you admit that maybe our father may have been wrong about Chloe and her family and just let her go?”