36. Dante
Dante
It only takes a few minutes to organize the men. As much as I’d rather instruct them all to stay behind to protect Sara, she’ll be safe with the skeleton crew on duty so long as she remains in her cell.
I order Pistol to stay by the front door and promise her extra treats if she bites the shit out of anyone who shows up. She licks my chin with her warm tongue, and I sigh, already resigned to her failure. “Good girl.”
During my discussion with Sara, the pieces started falling into place.
The men who ripped us apart crafted an elaborate plan to do so.
At first, I believed a rival family invaded my townhouse for power or revenge, but what if they were after Sara all along?
What if they wanted to split us up again, albeit in a much more dramatic fashion than the first time?
Sara could be the common denominator, and if she is, then only one culprit fits.
The Council. And if I’m correct, we’re all in danger. That’s why I locked Sara up, to keep her out of harm’s way. I don’t care what those masked assholes think…she’s mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
Of course, I have no proof yet, just a screaming gut and years of witnessing their brand of machinations.
If nothing else, they might have targeted Jeremy as punishment for disregarding their orders about Sara or my failure to deal with Enzo.
Marco offers to go feel the Council while I handle Enzo, and I agree.
Now that Jeremy knows too much, we need to convince them that allowing him to live won’t endanger the organization.
If Sara’s brother doesn’t realize he’s being held hostage by the mob, then Marco can rescue him with a few words to the Council and Jeremy being the wiser. Wins all around.
My brother’s charm trumps mine by a landslide, and we’ll need all the help we can get to slip the Council’s collar. Such a public display breaks the Code, and Enzo has always been my mess to clean up. The fact that I’ve let things get so far out of hand won’t be easily forgiven or forgotten.
Gregor, Luca, and several of Marco’s men will provide backup in case the Council decides to get rid of me and Enzo, while Angela has strict instructions to flee with Sara if we don’t return.
Gregor calls in soldiers, and after ordering him to meet us at SilverTech, Luca and I jump in my car and speed across the bridge to Staten Island.
I hate dragging them into a potential firefight, but if the Council turns on me, they’ll go after the people I care about most. If we still have Marco to continue the Argento name, my men will be written off as an acceptable loss. That’s just the name of the game.
“Let me out here.” Luca points to the deli Sara, Jeremy, and I went to for lunch the other day, and I pull over without question. After he hops out, we exchange a glance rife with the understanding that this might be the last time we see one another before I continue on to SilverTech.
Outside the office, it’s just another Friday morning.
Cars line the street and the sidewalk fills with pedestrians heading to work or sightseeing, unaware of what’s happening inside the office building a few yards away.
An attractive brunette gives me a bright smile as she passes, but I ignore her.
If the Council kills me, she’ll be considered a witness, and I don’t want any more innocent blood on my hands.
My mind wanders back to Sara, who’s probably still screaming in her cell, but I don’t let myself dwell on her. Hopefully, saving Jeremy’s life will be enough for her to start to forgive me…for all my sins. But even if she hates me forever, her safety trumps everything else, including my own life.
Inside, the lobby is crawling with people.
Zanni assured me during our call that they’d cleared the building of civilians, but the current scene contradicts his claim.
Not that I trusted him anyway. I recognize most of the people here as employees, but there are a good number of strangers milling around as well.
What the hell are they doing here?
I don’t have fucking time for this. I spot Gregor across the room and stride his way. He’s alone, which means our men are on standby until we can clear the building.
“Where—?” I want to ask him about the Council because they must be here somewhere, but I don’t get the chance to finish the question. Gregor shakes his head, the motion jerky, and I follow his gaze to Jeff in accounting.
As Jeff lowers his phone, the deadness in his eyes pings my memory. I can imagine him wearing a blank-faced mask, and a shiver travels down my spine.
My hackles rise, and my neck swivels to Tristan from the marketing department over by the vending machines, then Carl behind the security desk.
Five.
Twenty.
Forty-five.
Fuck.
The room’s full of the Council’s soldiers. Men and women who do their dirty work. Cannon fodder whose identities don’t matter one way or another. Many of these people have worked at SilverTech for months, even years in some cases, but I still can’t predict where their real loyalties lie.
This is one situation where I hate that I’m right.
How great is the Council’s influence, how far is their reach, that they can throw around this kind of manpower?
One by one, their perfect facades peel away as they turn to stare. Conversations die until an eerie hush envelops the entire room, as if someone pressed mute on the remote control.
“Go report back to Luca.” My order is painfully loud, which causes Gregor to hesitate. That familiar mulishness surfaces for the briefest of seconds before he jogs off to do as he’s told.
As soon as the doors to SilverTech slide shut, a familiar figure strolls onto the balcony overlooking the main lobby. Resting his elbows on the balustrade, Zanni cocks his head, his mask shining eerily under the bright lights. “Clock’s ticking, Argento.”
Patrick Leone, the acting CEO of my company for the past three years, swaggers toward me with a saccharine smile.
I wonder how long he’s been stabbing me in the back only to turn around and kiss my ass in the boardroom.
“This way, sir.” Right now, his southern drawl, once a welcome reprieve among the clipped vowels of city locals, grates on my nerves.
He’s probably waiting for me to crumble under the weight of his betrayal, but that would imply that I trusted anyone here to begin with. Instead, I feel like a moron for falling for the Council’s manipulations.
Seething, I follow Patrick’s lean form to the stairwell. At the door, he pauses and tilts his dark blond head to the waiting shadows below. “They’re in the basement.” He winks, his heterochromatic eyes reflecting a sinister gleam. “Try not to make too big a mess.”
He waits until I edge past, and then the door snicks shut, sealing me in deafening silence. Closing my eyes, I fill my lungs with stale air. I hate that I can’t tell whether I’m being catered to or led around on a leash.
They’ve been playing me this entire time.
My mind flashes back to the townhouse siege. In the grand scheme of things, the Council going to such lengths to keep Sara and I apart almost seems petty. Then again, no one ever claimed the men behind those masks were well-adjusted.
I massage my throbbing temple and wonder when my entire life decided to jump the shark. When I consider the past five years, I can’t help but wonder how many of my decisions were my own. How many people in my life are merely extensions of the Council’s sphere of influence?
It could be anyone.
It could be everyone.
The thought knifes my stomach, and my head starts to throb. Fuck. I need to hold myself together. This is the culmination of five years’ worth of nightmares and dozens of deaths.
As I near the bottom landing, I extract my gun from its holster in the small of my back beneath my t-shirt and raise it in a two-handed grip, my elbows slightly bent.
The basement has been emptied out in preparation for a future renovation, so I spy Jeremy right away.
My heart lurches. He’s pale, and though he doesn’t speak, the wild anger glittering in his gaze reminds me of his sister. As soon as he spots me, his hazel eyes widen with relief.
When his attention dips to the gun in my hands, his lips part in confusion.
A man hovers behind him, pointing his own gun at Jeremy’s skull. One tap on the trigger, and Jeremy’s brains explode all over the floor.
At fifty, Enzo Conti has been killing people for longer than I’ve been alive.
The dead bodies he’s racked up show in the grim and weary lines of his face.
His chestnut brown hair almost brushes his shoulders, and coupled with his thick beard and that solid, muscular build, he resembles a mountain man than the former head of the Conti family.
Despite the years aging his skin, he appears almost exactly as he did in the photo my mother kept hidden. A dragon’s head peeks out from under the rolled sleeves of his ratty crew neck, and the missing fingers on the same hand confirm his identity.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the Ghost stands before me.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
The familiar, gravelly voice freezes my muscles, thrusting me into a past that still haunts me. I can smell the acrid scent of burning skin as my neck melts beneath a soldering iron. I can feel my ribs breaking beneath steel-toed boots and the sharp bite of the whip on my back.
My palms grow clammy, and nausea roils in my stomach. I know I’m this close to shutting down completely, so with a massive force of will, I shove the memories aside.
Even those brief reminders cause me to hyperventilate a little, though, and a dark storm of hatred surges through me.
Normally, the emotion is a ravenous beast, but today, my anger feels less all-consuming.
I realize that while my imagination transformed him into some untouchable boogeyman, Enzo Conti is only human.
A man no more imposing than my own father.
“My apologies for my tardiness. Traffic on the bridge…you know how it is.”
My fingers tighten around the trigger as I assess Jeremy. His torn, dirty clothes suggest that he and Enzo tussled before Enzo subdued him. Thankfully, other than a blossoming black eye, he reveals no other visible signs of injury.
I don’t lower my gun, but I don’t pull the trigger either. I can make the shot, but there’s no guarantee Jeremy won’t die by Enzo’s hand before my bullet reaches the Ghost.
My breath slows just like it does when I’m at the range or about to enter the ring before a match. Nothing Enzo can tell me will save his life today, but for Jeremy’s sake, and Sara’s, I’ll play the bastard’s game just a little while longer.