Chapter 14
Valentina
Days after going to the FBI office, I was getting ready to see my mother.
“You’re sure about this?” Enzo asked, helping me zip up the back of my cocktail dress.
I had arranged to meet Mom at one of my family’s more upscale restaurants.
That way, we’d be able to have a conversation without arousing my father’s suspicions.
He wouldn’t think anything nefarious or clandestine was going on if I was just going to have a nice dinner with Mom.
Meanwhile, I’d be trying to get information out of her.
If there was anyone who might know something about who my father had hired to set the fire, it was my mother.
Even if she wasn’t conscious of the value of the information she had, even one small scrap of intel could lead us to the hitman.
“I’m sure,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
In truth, I was feeling nervous and guilty.
I hated the idea of using my mother to track down the hitman.
I didn’t like lying to her, but my father had left us with little choice.
Papa had said it himself—he wouldn’t reveal a name even if he was threatened with prison.
If anything, Enzo’s presence that day at my family home had just made my father dig his heels in even more.
Going in guns blazing hadn’t worked, so clearly we needed a more subtle approach.
That meant secretly questioning my mom for information while using alcohol to get her to open up.
“Papa tells my mother more than he tells me sometimes,” I added. “If he’s given my mom some kind of clue, I have to try to get it. This is probably our best chance at gathering new intel.”
“And you’re sure you don’t need me there?” my husband asked, concern in his voice.
“I’ll always need you, but we want Mom to be unguarded tonight,” I said. “Talking to her one-on-one is our best bet right now.”
He smiled and pulled me close to kiss the corner of my mouth, avoiding smudging my lipstick. “You call me as soon as you get there.”
I smiled back and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, wishing I could bring him with me.
Much as we needed to get information out of my mother, I desperately wanted to spend the night here in the townhouse, making love to my husband.
But I had a duty and time was of the essence.
We needed to get to the hitman before he struck again.
Before the FBI got to him. Otherwise, we’d have no deal and we’d all be in danger of an FBI investigation, my father especially.
Enzo placed his strong hands on my back, the weight of his touch grounding me and making me feel safe. He leaned in closer, kissing up and down my neck, the heat of his mouth tempting me like nothing else. I sighed against him, loving the sensation of his lips kissing a trail along my throat.
But then my phone beeped, interrupting us. I pulled back to check. A message from Mom letting me know she was making her way to the restaurant. That was my cue to head out.
Enzo walked me outside to the car, helping open the door to the backseat before my chauffeur could do it.
I smiled at him through the slightly open window. “Love you,” I said.
He placed the gentlest kiss to my lips. “Love you back. Call me when you get there.”
“Definitely,” I said.
Enzo responded by taking my hand to kiss it and then, the driver revved the engine. We drove off, Enzo standing out in front of the townhouse until we turned the corner.
I wound up my window so the air conditioning would cool me down.
Leaning back, I watched as New York’s bright lights whizzed by in a blur of white and orange lights.
I really wished I could have gone with Enzo.
Whenever I was away from him, even for a short amount of time, I craved his company. He truly was my other half now.
Leaning back in the leather seats, I asked the driver if he could turn down the temperature of the air conditioning. The hot air from outside was still circulating and I could do with a blast of cold.
Up front, the driver adjusted his rearview mirror to look at me. “You’re not going to need air conditioning where we’re going.”
My entire body tensed up. His words sounded so sinister, but I couldn’t be sure that I’d heard right. “What did you say?”
In response, he flicked something and I heard all the door locks click at the same time.
“What are you—”
I reached for the lock of the passenger door in a foolish, dangerous effort to test if it would open.
We were moving at what must have been sixty miles an hour, but I was so uneasy that I was willing to check if I could escape.
I couldn’t. The door was locked and nothing I did got it to open.
Whatever he’d done, he was now in control of the car’s central lock system.
“Sit tight, Valentina,” my driver ordered.
Terror seized me. My stomach lurched and I was sure that I was going to throw up. Even though on some level I understood the danger I was suddenly in, my mind wasn’t registering it. Nothing that was happening felt real. It was like a bad dream. A total nightmare that I couldn’t shake myself from.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“You’re not going to have your night on the town tonight,” he said, his voice cold and threatening.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded shrilly. “Let me out. Let me out or I’ll scream.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He pulled up to a dimly lit alley, shadows everywhere and not a person in sight.
Without warning, he turned to face me, pointing a gun right at me. “Hand over your bag. No sudden movements.”
I saw a dark warning flicker through his gray eyes, his face half cast in shadow, the other half cast in sickly yellow light. I’d been surrounded by gangsters and killers all my life. None of them had ever frightened me as much as my driver did now.
The darkness in his eyes turned to flames of pure hatred. A loathing that hardened the harsh planes of his face so much that it seemed completely overtaken by shadow now. I had never noticed how young he seemed—barely older than I was. How could someone so young be so full of so much hate?
Dave. I recalled his first name then but his last name eluded me. I just couldn’t think straight.
“My bag...” I let out several rasping breaths, trying to regain some kind of composure.
My cell phone was in my bag. Something that we both knew because where else would I put my phone? Seeing no other choice, I removed the gold strap from around my shoulder and I handed the bag over to him with shaking hands.
He kept his gun trained on me as he used his free hand to stash my small bag in a compartment up front.
It had taken me a long time to fully grasp what was happening, and finally, my brain caught up with my terrified body.
My driver was our hitman. The one who had been terrorizing us all this time.
I couldn’t believe that I had missed it.
I hadn’t been able to connect the dots sooner, but now that he was pointing a weapon at me, everything seemed to fall into place.
My chauffeur had access to everything. To Enzo’s apartment, to our schedules, to the phone calls we made in the car, acting like he was too invisible to matter.
I had made all sorts of calls in the car.
Countless calls in his presence that must have let him know where I was going, who else would be present, what I planned on doing there.
He could have easily accessed the caterer’s office and would have been able to get into my townhouse to make deliveries of wedding gifts, including that threatening note along with the giftwrapped bullet.
Not to mention the fact that he had access to the church on our wedding day.
Domestic staff always had access to locations to make our lives easier.
So much so, that at times it was easy for them to blend in with the furniture or the appliances.
Easy for us to forget that they were there, always watching. Always listening.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“You’ve always got some kind of weapon on your person,” he said, ignoring my question. “Hand over your weapons.”
As was usually the case, I had a weapon strapped to my inner thigh.
A small pistol this time. If I gave it to him, I would have no way to defend myself.
Without my phone, I was already at a disadvantage, unable to contact anyone for help.
At least with the gun, I’d have a fighting chance against whatever he was planning.
When I didn’t move he said, “I’m not going to ask again. Hand over your weapons or I’ll drive back to you house and shoot your husband in the fucking head. I have zero qualms about making you watch me kill him.”
“Please—”
“Hand it over, or so help me, your husband fucking dies!” he shouted, the crescendo of his voice vibrating through my body, making me jump in terror as I shook all over.
My hands were trembling, my palms slick with sweat, as I shrank back further into the shadows of the backseat so he wouldn’t see me put my hands up my dress.
The thought of what he might try to do to me made my eyes water as I struggled to free the gun from the strap.
But it was the thought of what he would do to Enzo that made me fight back the scream that threatened to escape.
No matter what he did to me, I could face it.
Yet it was the thought of any harm coming to my husband that was already pushing me over the edge of reason into a hysterical madness.
“Don’t hurt him,” I pleaded as I handed him the gun. “I’m begging you, don’t hurt Enzo.”
The driver took the pistol from me, stashing that too. “Sit back. Relax. We’re almost there. Won’t be long now.”
He drove on, pulling away from the alley to go through some side streets I barely recognized.