by Lila Dubois
“We can’t assume it was Bellator Dei,” she said.
Langston frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Less than a week ago, someone tried to kidnap Luca,” she replied. “Shouldn’t we assume that another kidnapping attempt might be from the same people? The Serbians?”
“The Bellator Dei have good reason to want to kidnap him too,” Jennika pointed out. “He’s one of them. And if they infiltrated Cohortes Praetorianae…”
“But if they know he’s here, with us, they know he’s not loyal,” Langston pointed out.
“No, they may think they rescued him,” Owen said slowly. “And they might have taken Oscar as either a hostage or out of necessity.”
“If they don’t need Oscar…” Langston sank onto the bed.
“But the Bellator Dei don’t kidnap people. They use bombs. You just said so yourself, Langston.” Selene jumped to her feet and started to pace. She didn’t know why she was so sure this wasn’t the Bellator Dei.
Owen considered that briefly. “The professionalism of this operation indicates that it wasn’t Bellator Dei members themselves who did it. If they’re responsible, they hired someone.”
“Maybe they hired the Serbian mercenaries to kidnap him back,” Selene said. “Or it’s just the Serbians attempting to get Luca again, this time closer to home.”
Owen nodded. He didn’t seem surprised, which indicated he’d probably already thought of that. “I’ve already called the Grand Master. Boston is sending over everything they have on the people who attacked you in Pennsylvania.”
“So, we’re going to Serbia?” Langston demanded. “Or do we think they have them here in Italy? A search party?”
Owen walked over and put one hand on Selene’s shoulder, stilling her pacing. With the other, he reached out and grabbed Langston’s shoulder in turn. “We will find them, but we have to take action, not just react.”
“Meaning?” Selene demanded.
“Meaning that for the next twenty minutes, I want you two to take showers, change into something comfortable—because this might be a long night—and then meet the team in the conference room.” Owen released them and followed Jennika, who headed for the door. “We’ll find them,” Owen assured them.
When the door closed behind him, Selene and Langston looked at each other, but neither spoke.
Their fears were too big for words.
Luca rolled over, vomited, and then gagged. His head was clearer than it had been, enough that he knew it wasn’t the first time he’d been sick, a fact made painfully clear, considering there was nothing left in his stomach for him to throw up. This was, however, the first time he’d been aware enough to then sit up and look around his surroundings.
The walls were dusty, uniformly gray concrete, with heavy plastic sheeting where there should have been doors. It was dusk, and the only light filtered in through plastic that covered what he assumed would be a window. He was in a construction site of some kind, though there were no useful tool boxes lying around he might use to free his hands from the cuffs. The cuffs were looped around some roughed-in plumbing sunk into the concrete. He wasn’t going anywhere.
He had a vague memory of men checking on him, and at some point, someone had thrown water on him, probably to wash away the vomit, because his hair was wet.
The last thing he could recall at the hotel was the man attacking Oscar, plunging the needle into him. He was gripped by terror as the image of Oscar falling flashed through his mind.
Where was Oscar? Was he okay?
His lovers had shared their fears with him last night, Selene and Oscar talking about the panic and unbearable fear they’d felt when he was on the compound, defusing the bombs, both of them far too aware that he could be killed at any moment.
Last night, he’d been touched by how much they cared for him, and the realization that there was someone in the world, besides just his sister, who would grieve for him.
But now that he found himself in the same position, uncertain if Oscar was alive or…no.
No.
Luca pushed that thought from his mind, unable to consider something so truly horrifying.
The sound of voices pulled him from his dark thoughts. A second later, light flashed over plastic. Then two men, speaking Serbian, pushed through a plastic-draped doorway. They had guns slung across their backs, and one of them held a flashlight. They held the plastic aside, and two more men came in—carrying Oscar.
Luca’s heart stopped.
Where Luca had on only handcuffs, Oscar was trussed up in what looked to be layers of silver duct tape. They dumped him on the ground beside Luca, and Oscar grunted, his eyes bright with rage.
There was tape wrapped completely around his face and head, covering his mouth. His wrists were crossed at the small of his back, bound with more tape and a pair of handcuffs. His legs were bound at the ankles and knees.
One of the men took a fresh pair of cuffs and crouched, locking it around the same looped pipe that Luca’s hands were bound to. He reached for Oscar, who head-butted him. The man’s nose broke with an audible pop, and Oscar’s eyes crinkled in a smile, until the man sucker-punched him in the stomach.
Oscar bent, sucking in air through his nose and groaning. The man with the broken nose and blood on his face locked the free end of the cuffs to the chain between the pair Oscar was already wearing.
Luca realized the wave of happiness washing through him was foolish. They were in very grave danger and it was obvious Oscar was hurt. But he was alive. Simply seeing him here, watching the brave, crazy man fight back against unbeatable odds made Luca feel better.
They were both still alive. And they were together.
He wanted to talk to Oscar, to tell him he loved him, but there were four enemies in the room, and Luca knew that silence was always safest. He met and held Oscar’s gaze. Then turned away.
The men were standing near the light from the window, the flashlight now dark. One was looking at his phone. They made no attempt to keep their voices down, so they must not have been near enough to another building for that to be of consequence, but they did seem to be worried about any light being noticed.
They were speaking openly in Serbian, which indicated they had no idea he understood the language.
“I still think we shoot him in the head and bury the body.”
“Don’t be stupid. A missing man is…” The speaker shrugged. “But a body?”
“Then we kill him and dissolve him in acid. No body. We only want the little Italian man.”
“We have to wait.” The one with the phone looked up. “The lawyer our American family hired for my sister’s husband’s cousin is going to call back with information. The black man matches the description they gave of the bodyguard for the other interested party.”
Luca blinked. Oh.
Selene and Oscar’s insane bluff back in the farmhouse no longer seemed so insane. They thought Selene was someone to be feared.
And that was keeping Oscar alive.
“Do we know who she was?” another of them asked.
The one with the phone shook his head. “American accent, but Asian.”
“Chinese,” one of the men spat. “They can’t have our bombs.”
“No, but we don’t want a fight with any of the Triad, especially not 14K.”
The men nodded in agreement, several of them looking over at Oscar.
The phone pinged, and the man holding it grunted. “Andrej says the lawyer is speaking with my sister’s cousin-by-marriage now. We will have more information soon.”
The four men walked out, their conversation turning to what kind of wine they were planning to drink while they waited, a ridiculously mundane discussion, considering they were just deciding whether or not to murder someone.
When they were out of earshot, Luca looked at Oscar.
“Mercenaries,” he whispered. “Serbian mercenaries. This time it’s the real ones, not their stupid relations.”
; Oscar closed his eyes and nodded, the expression saying clearly this was what he’d expected.
“They don’t know who you are and are trying to figure it out. That, and who Selene is.”
Oscar’s eyes popped open and then he winced.
“I’ll do what I can to keep us both alive and buy time,” Luca said softly. “Oscar, I am so sorry.”
Oscar shook his head, then winked. He might be down, but Oscar was far from out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Selene wanted to do something—walking the streets with flyers, reviewing satellite imagery, maybe beating information out of someone. Unfortunately, flyers wouldn’t help since they’d been kidnapped in a van, people more experienced than her had already reviewed all satellite footage, and there was no one she could beat up.
Selene listened as the men and women around her talked about plans and strategies. There was urgency in their voices, and she knew they were working hard, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream at all of them.
Langston was seated beside her. They were now comrades in battle, tied together by the same paralyzing worry. However, unlike her, Langston didn’t look like he necessarily needed a reason to beat someone up. His fist was clenched tight and he was pounding it lightly on his thigh. He studied every single person at the table, and she could almost imagine him sizing them up, debating who would put up the best fight. The Hayden boys had an unnatural love of smashing things.
“I have preliminary IDs on the kidnappers.” Sidika’s voice broke through the chatter. The flat-screen TV on the wall clicked on and two mugshots appeared, side by side, their names written below their faces.
Miroslav Zoran and Vlado Milica.
Selene studied the pictures. “Who are they?”
Owen answered her question. “Miroslav and Vlado are high-ranking members in a paramilitary organization called Serbian Action. We’re dealing with the same group who already attempted to take Luca once. With one critical difference.”
“What?”
“The men you were dealing with in Pennsylvania were low-level members of the American Serbian mob out of Chicago, and individuals with loose affiliations to this main group. People with clean enough records they made it through U.S. immigration.”
They already knew that, but Selene bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping at him to hurry up and get on with it. There were people around the table who didn’t know this, and she wanted every single person here to have all the information needed for them to bring Luca and Oscar home safely.
“What we’re dealing with now is the main group. These are dangerous individuals—neo-fascist, neo-Nazis. They’re very good at hate and violence, and they’re well-equipped, experienced fighters.”
“What’s their poison?” Rhys asked in his cowboy drawl.
Several people frowned in confusion, but Percival understood and responded, “Guns, drugs, and they’re mercenaries for hire. They’re all military trained, and the organization espouses ideals of a free Serbia.”
“And they sell bomb-making supplies,” Selene said. “That’s how they know about Luca. The Bellator Dei buys bomb stuff from them.”
Owen took over from there, going over what the Trinity Masters had discovered about the paramilitary rebels, both from questioning the men before handing them over to the authorities, and in the ensuing investigation afterward.
“How did they know he was here?” Konrad asked when Owen was done.
“That’s the question we need to answer. If we find out how they’re tracking Luca, we trace it back to where they are now.”
“We are sure Luca and Oscar aren’t working with them?” Vadisk asked.
Langston snarled and launched himself across the table at the Hungarian man.
Selene accidentally on-purpose got in the way as Kristin, seated on her other side, tried to grab Langston. Rodrigo managed to nab him and haul him back across the table. Vadisk didn’t move, didn’t even uncross his arms, which was both impressive and alarming.
“We are sure,” Owen said, a hint of anger in his voice. That he too was pissed made Selene feel better.
Percival cleared his throat. “Every member of the organization is on a watch list—Interpol, Serbian BIA. As Owen pointed out, none of these men were part of the kidnapping attempt in America. They wouldn’t have made it through customs.”
“So if they’re being watched, where are they?” Langston demanded.
“They are on watch lists, not under constant surveillance,” Percival said primly.
On the long wall of the conference room, under the TV, was a bank of cabinets. The top of them served as the food service area, while inside were supplies for both catering and business meetings.
From inside the cabinet came the sound of the printer turning on.
Milo, who was closest, turned and opened the cabinet, pulling out the sheet of paper, while the rest of them continued to discuss the latest intel they had on the Serbian Action group.
“Who printed this?” Milo’s sudden sharp question cut through the chatter. Everyone looked to the people who had laptops open in front of them—Jennika, Sidika, Ridley, and Sarah.
They all shook their heads.
“Merde.” Milo turned the paper around. A single question in large black typeface was printed on the paper
“I don’t read Italian, what does it say?” Selene demanded.
“Can you save my brother?” Milo translated.
“Shit!” Jennika’s finger tapped against the trackpad of the computer. “The printer is on the hotel’s guest Wi-Fi, not the secure network I set up for us.”
“Luca’s sister? But how?” Selene asked.
“Do we have any idea what Oscar and Luca did before they were kidnapped?” Sidika demanded.
“They had the old computers from the Bellator Dei compound.” Langston sounded hopeful, and that got her hopes up in turn. “Oscar can do a lot of damage with a computer.”
“Can we send a message back to whoever sent this?” Owen demanded.
“I’m going to the hotel office.” Sidika closed her laptop and raced for the door. “I’ll try to trace it back.”
Percival nodded at Konrad, who rose and followed her.
“Maybe, maybe…” Jennika’s fingers were flying over the keyboard. “If we can, what should it say?”
Everyone looked at her. Selene blinked, her brain briefly and terrifyingly blank.
“Yes,” Langston said. “Just say yes, and ask if she knows where they are.”
“Wait.” Selene closed her eyes, mind whirling as she went over everything Luca had said about his sister. “Say…say…” She took a breath. “‘Yes, but not if it means risking you.’ He wouldn’t want that.”
Milo leaned over and typed out the message in Italian.
“How are you getting it to her?” Langston asked.
“I’m putting the document in the print queue and pausing it.” Jennika looked up. “The printer equivalent of writing a draft email in an account both parties have access to.”
“Did it work?” Selene demanded.
“I don’t know yet.” Jennika tapped and then a mirror image of her screen appeared on the TV. The window showing the printer queue was up, a single untitled document listed as “paused.”
Selene had a sudden vivid flashback to all the times she’d had to call university technical support because she was having trouble printing. That life seemed so far away.
A second document appeared, and a moment later, the printer started up. Milo ripped the paper out of the tray as a black wall of code appeared on the other half of Jennika’s screen.
“‘He has strayed from God’s path. I cannot save him, but know it would be His’—Capital H—‘work for you to do so.’” Milo looked up.
“The sister is a card-carrying believer,” Langston said grimly.
“But she loves her brother,” Claudette said softly.
“Ask her where he is,” Selene demanded.
; “And how she knows,” Percival said.
“No.” Selene looked around, ready to fight anyone who dared suggest they do anything that put Oscar and Luca’s lives at risk. “How doesn’t matter. If she knows, that’s all that matters. We get them back safely and deal with the rest of it later.”
“Agreed,” Owen said. “Our priority is their safety. I know we have outstanding questions as to how our adversaries are obtaining their information, but we deal with that after we get Oscar and Luca back.”
Milo glanced at Percival, then Owen. When Jennika slid the laptop toward him, he typed up a simple message.
“What did you say?” Langston asked.
“‘Where is he? I will save him.’”
They watched as Jennika dropped it into the print queue, a digital drop spot. The reply came faster this time, the printer whirring to life.
Again, Milo grabbed the paper. “It’s an address.” He passed the paper to Jennika, who pulled up the location on a map.
“That’s an hour away from here,” Milo said.
“Is this a current image?” Claudette asked. “It looks like a construction site.”
“Yes, from a few days ago,” Jennika said.
The image resolution wasn’t great, but it was enough to see a gray building surrounded by dirt with yellow heavy equipment parked around it.
“Let’s go.” Langston stood.
“We need a plan.” Rodrigo hadn’t shifted from his position, lounging sexily against the wall. Selene recalled she and Luca joking just this morning about adding Rodrigo to their gang bang wish list. Her heart lurched and she forced herself to take deep, slow breaths because there was no way she was going to fall apart. Her men needed her. And she needed them.
“This is a trained military force. We need a plan. Milo, does Cohortes Praetorianae have a military strike team?”
“We do, but they’re on a job. I have contacts with Arma dei Carabinieri.”
“We need to go in now,” Langston countered. “They might be…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed.
