Dimitri (The Italian Cartel Book 1)

by Shandi Boyes

  Even aware I’m adding a nail to my coffin, I nod my head, the pain in his eyes too intense to ignore. My honesty awards me the ability to once again breathe. I gasp in hurried breaths to pacify the scream of my lungs before straying my eyes to the pained ones still glaring at me.

  “I met my father in a watering hole next door to that restaurant once. It was after my grandfather passed away. I thought he wanted to get to know me a little better.” A flare I’ve never seen before darts through his eyes when I stammer out, “All he wanted to know was how much inheritance he was set to get from his father-in-law’s death. He didn’t care about me at all.” Disbelieving of fate, and stupidly curious, I ask, “What date was your wife taken?”

  The air I’ve only just gulped down rushes back out when the blue-eyed man replies, “February twelve.”

  “February twelve, last year?”

  My throat works through a tough swallow when his twitching lips deliver his confirmation. He’s placed his puzzle together the wrong way. I’m not to blame for what happened to his wife. I was near the restaurant he mentioned to meet with my father. Agreeing to his request was the only stupid thing I did that day.

  When I say that to the dark-haired stranger, the furl of his lips turns nasty. “You don’t have to whack someone across the temple with the butt of a gun to take part in their kidnapping.”

  He adds evidence to his comment by splaying his hands across his body. I’m bound in his car, at his complete mercy, however if you exclude him testing the heartiness of my pulse, he hasn’t laid a hand on me.

  “People can be manipulated in many ways. Take a pretty redhead on a corner with thick black tears streaming down her face. All it takes is for a man to glance her way for a second, and poof, his entire existence is snatched out from beneath him.”

  The men seated beside me appear as shocked by his confession as me. They either didn’t know the part he played in his wife’s disappearance or they’re damn good actors. It may be a combination of both.

  Desperate not to be punished for something I didn’t do, I mutter, “Just because you glanced my way that day doesn’t make me responsible for what happened.” I’d take the blame for what happened if his daughter was kidnapped while he watched my deplorable act in the alleyway, but this isn’t my fault. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Yes, you have.” His voice rises as rapidly as his anger. “You distracted me, you caught me off guard long enough for my enemies to get the better of me. That makes you responsible for Audrey’s disappearance.”

  My retaliation is as loud as his, my determination just as robust. “I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am not to blame.”

  His hot breaths hit my lips when he snarls, “Confessing your lack of judgment is the only way I’ll offer you any type of leniency. It’ll do you best to remember that.”

  The anger surging through causes my usual levelheadedness to go askew. “Leniency for a crime I didn’t commit, for a kidnapping I had nothing to do with. How can you expect me to confess to something I didn’t do?”

  “You distracted me—”

  “Because you couldn’t keep your eyes on your wife. That isn’t my fault!”

  He recoils like my words slapped him hard across the face. It’s clear he feels guilt about his wife’s kidnapping, but that doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on me. I’ll have to work for every leniency I want him to give me.

  “If I hadn’t looked at you, my wife wouldn’t be dead. If I hadn’t stopped to find you, my daughter would be here. You’re responsible for everything that has happened.” His voice cools to that of a madman before he adds, “And I’m done playing nice.”

  “Dimitri…”

  I don’t get the chance to register the shock of learning my attacker’s name. I’m too busy staring into Dimitri’s soulless eyes, wordlessly begging for him not to shoot me with the gun he butts up against my temple.

  I’m not a parent, so I’ll never fully understand what he’s going through, but I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to have a father who’d protect me no matter what. In my eyes, Dimitri’s daughter is lucky, but she won’t be if Dimitri doesn’t learn to focus his anger on those deserving of his wrath.

  When I say that to Dimitri, he cocks back the hammer on his gun. I’m about to die, and the man who brought me to ecstasy more times in my dreams than any man in real life is my executioner.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dimitri

  My back molars crunch together when Rocco fists my dress shirt so firmly, two of its buttons pop. I have a gun in my hand, and the itch to kill is skating through my veins. He’s a fool to fuck with me now. Someone is about to die, and it’s a very close call on who the departed will be.

  “Listen,” Rocco demands my devotion with an authority I didn’t realize he held. “She’s telling the truth.” He squashes my cell phone under my ear like I’m hard of hearing before requesting for Smith to repeat what he said.

  “You’re right. Roxanne was near the Slice of Salt the day Audrey was taken.” The sheen in Roxanne’s eyes doubles when he adds, “She paid the tab for the whiskeys her father had in an establishment next door before she arrived on an almost maxed-out credit card.”

  Even not knowing Roxanne any better than a hooker on a corner, I’m aware Smith is telling the truth. Shame was the first thing that darted through Roxanne’s eyes when Smith’s words reached her ears. It was quickly chased by regret.

  “But she left minutes before Audrey was spotted on surveillance being guided out the back entrance. She hasn’t been back there since, and there’s no chatter of any kind on her social media accounts or messenger apps. It truly seems as if she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Even though Smith can’t see me, I shake my head. “There are too many incidents to discount.” My gun is directed at Roxanne’s head, but I act as if she’s invisible. It annoys her more than anything. “She’s popped up too many times for any of this to be a coincidence.”

  With my anger at a point it can’t be contained, I push Rocco off me before sinking back into my seat opposite Roxanne’s. The barrel of my gun is still aimed her way, but I’ll have to pop a bullet through my second-in-charge if I want to take her down.

  Rocco is protecting her like he failed to do his mother.

  The fact I contemplate the carry-on effect Rocco’s death would cause my empire reveals how badly I’m spiraling. Tell me one man who wouldn’t get a little fucked in the head right now? I haven’t had confirmation of Fien’s well-being for almost nine months, then, suddenly tonight, a mere three hours before Roxanne shows up out of nowhere, a request for ransom drops into my inbox. Her proof-of-life video was grainy, and it was only four seconds long, but there’s no doubt in my mind it was Fien.

  Not in a million years would I forget her face.

  After working my jaw side to side, I breathe out, “She didn’t turn up tonight for no reason. Roxanne is a part of this.”

  “I’m not,” she denies with a shake of her head at the same time Rocco spits out, “Yeah, that’s probably true. But is it via her choice? Or is she being forced into a fight she doesn’t belong in?”

  When confusion darts through my eyes, Rocco gets smug. “You’re always racing ahead, Dimi, leaving nothing but a trail of destruction in your wake.”

  He said a similar thing when I told him I was marrying Audrey in a civil ceremony hours after she told me she was pregnant. He wanted me to hold off for a few months, citing there was no need to rush since Fien wasn’t due for another eight months. I could have listened to him, but as he said, I’m always racing ahead.

  “He could be onto something.” Clover shifts the bulk of his heavy frame to the edge of his seat before he hands me a ripped piece of paper. “I found this in her purse when I rummaged through her things.”

  After gauging Roxanne’s reaction to her privacy being invaded, which I’m shocked to say barely altered, I drop my eyes to a set of handwritten instruc
tions on what looks to be part of a university letterhead. The word ‘interview’ scribble at the top has been underlined three times, revealing the person jotting down the details was excited they’d been granted one.

  My anger shifts to confusion when my eyes skim the interviewer’s name. It reveals I was supposed to interview Roxanne at my family’s restaurant at the exact time Fien’s ransom request landed in my inbox.

  I drift my eyes back to Roxanne’s watering ones. She’s scared—there’s no doubt about that—but she’s also curious, and if I’m not mistaken, angry. Her emotions appear as uncontrolled as mine. “Who sent you this?”

  The bangs I pushed aside when I was certain I was dreaming fall back into place when Roxanne shakes her head with a shrug. “An employment agency?”

  Her blasé response agitates me to no end. The last time I took the focus off Fien for this long, I lost sight of her for nine months.

  I won’t let that happen again.

  “You didn’t think to ask who they were?”

  Unsure where my fury stems from, Roxanne shakes her head. “I’m so desperate for a job, I don’t ask questions. I just accept any interview offered.”

  Even with the rattle of her vocal cords chopping up her words, I’m confident she’s telling the truth.

  People are more honest when they’re in fear of their life.

  “Smith—”

  “Already on it,” he says down the line, his thick voice vibrating through my phone’s speakers. “I’ll have every number that’s called her cell for the past year in five… four… three… two—”

  My eyes snap to the side when Rocco blurts out, “It was me. I organized her interview.”

  Just as quickly as my eyes rocket to Rocco, they dart to Roxanne. She appears as shocked by his confession as me, meaning I can shift the focus of my gun to Rocco’s head despite my gut begging for me to reconsider.

  “You’re playing me? I made you who you are. I’ve given you everything you have, but now you fuck me over.”

  Red hot anger scorches through me when I consider exactly how long he’s playing me for a fool. We’ve been friends for over two decades. We skipped school together in the eighth grade. Was he a traitor back then? Or only when the gleam of money became too bright for him to ignore?

  “Did you take my daughter, Rocco? Did you cut her from my wife’s stomach!”

  A numbed expression crosses his face. “No, Dimi, fuck! I organized Roxanne’s interview so you could see Fien again, so you’d have the chance to get her back.”

  Nothing he’s saying makes any sense. How could forcing Roxanne back into my life help me get Fien back? She’s the reason I lost everything to begin with.

  I stare at Rocco like he’s disturbed when he mutters out a name I never anticipated hearing right now. “Justine.” Nothing but remorse is seen on his face when he adds, “Your ruse was working, Dimi. When you had Justine on the go, Fien’s ransoms arrived like clockwork. They were never late, and you were given undeniable proof that she was safe every single month.” He works his jaw side to side, his anger as noticeable as mine. “That hasn’t happened in nine months, D. You haven’t had a single ransom request—”

  “I got one earlier today.”

  The truth smacks into me like a wayward missile a mere second before Rocco spells it out for me. “Because I organized Roxie’s interview at your favorite hook-up location two weeks after placing a photo of you together on your social media accounts.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rocco, you didn’t tell me it was for this,” Smith says down the line at the same time Clover pinches his gun to Rocco’s temple, aware he’s more of a threat right now than Roxanne.

  “I’m just going for my phone,” Rocco assures Clover, frustrated and fighting the urge to retaliate. For the most part, they get along, but it hasn’t always been that way. Clover is a member of my crew because he’s paid for the privilege. Rocco is here of his own free will. He was here before the money came, and if I don’t kill him for his deceit, he’d be here even if we lost it all. “See.”

  He swivels his phone around to face me. It has a photo of me carrying Roxanne out of the ravine. Because it was taken at an angle, it appears as if we’re fooling around instead of Roxanne being on the brink of death. You can’t see her blood-stained face or body, just the grip I have on her ass to keep her on my shoulder while sprinting out of the scrub.

  My brows pinch when Rocco demands that I check my email. “What?” He smiles, clearly blind to how precariously his life is floating in the wind. “I want to see how fast they react. I bet your numerous requests for a better proof of life for Fien tonight has been answered now. My latest upload to the Dimitri and Roxie show has been in the wild the past ten minutes.”

  He shows me a second image. Just like the first one, the angle is badly deceiving. It looks like I’m about to kiss Roxanne instead of strangling her like I almost did ten minutes ago. “What’s the bet an email dropped into your inbox within the last eight minutes.”

  Too curious to discount, I hit the email app on the screen of my phone. I know what I’m going to find before I discover it. Smith’s silence is telling enough, much less the brutal drum of my heart against my ribs.

  Rocco was right. My three requests for a better proof of life were answered precisely seven minutes ago. The footage is double the length of the last one, and it’s crystal clear. It even has sound this time around.

  I’m not going to lie. I was raised in a cruel, hard world that’s only grown crueler the longer I’ve sucked the life from its veins, but my daughter’s tired giggles are enough to bring the strongest man to his knees. It’s perfectly balanced like she isn’t being raised by a group of dead men walking amongst the living.

  Although I could stare at Fien’s smiling face for a lifetime, hearing her laugh for the first time doesn’t dampen my wish to find her. If anything, it triples my determination. “Smith—”

  “On it. I’ll pass on any findings ASAP.” Eager to get to work, he disconnects our call before remotely logging into my phone.

  I take a few minutes to gather my bearings before locking my eyes with Clover’s. Roxanne’s sigh of relief is more audible than Rocco’s when I wordlessly instruct Clover to lower his weapon. He isn’t happy about my request, but he does as he is told.

  All hired hitman do.

  Once Rocco has slipped back into his spot next to Roxanne, I ask a question no amount of anger could have me setting aside, “How did you know they’d respond so fast?”

  Rocco’s lips twitch in preparation to respond, but before he can, Roxanne gabbles out, “Because your daughter’s captor is a woman.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Roxanne

  Dimitri stares straight at me. Even in the shadows of a near moonless night, I can’t miss the tight clench of his fists and jaw. His aura is unnerving, but since his menace isn’t directly focused on me this time around, it doesn’t make me quiver like it did earlier. The shudder of my thighs is now more a positive shake than a negative one. He’s watching me like he did in the alleyway a year ago, appearing as if he wants to join in but never will.

  At least now I understand the reasoning behind his withdrawn demeanor. He isn’t just dark and dangerous, he’s fighting not to be as cruel as the people holding his daughter hostage. I doubt he’d hold back the urge if she were safe and in his arms. He wants to maim the people responsible for the scars no number of good looks will hide, and in all honesty, I can’t blame him. After hearing his daughter’s giggles, I want to do the exact same thing, and I haven’t even seen her yet.

  “How do you know her captor is a woman?” Dimitri asks while staring at me as if I’m the only person seated across from him.

  “She’s jealous and acting out. All traits of a scorned woman.” I wet my dry lips before asking a question I guarantee he’s never been asked before. “Did you cheat on your wife?”

  “This isn’t a custody dispute.” His words are fired out of his mouth like bu
llets. “I saw Fien removed from Audrey’s stomach in a dirty, unsterile room. No amount of money would have a mother putting her child in danger like that.”

  Although I agree with him, his skirting of my question won’t get us anywhere. “I didn’t ask if the kidnapper was your wife. I asked if you cheated on her.”

  He’s pissed about my line of questioning, but since the safe return of his daughter is more important than anything, he lets it slide. “Yes, I cheated on her. Multiple times.”

  “Did she know?”

  I have no clue why I asked that question. It will make no difference to my assumption whatsoever. I’m just curious to discover if he’s a man who cheats and lies about it, or does he parade it around for the world to see.

  Dimitri adjusts the expensive-looking cuffs on his sleeves, something he seems to do when frustrated, before muttering, “It wasn’t something we openly discussed, but she was aware of my inability to keep my dick in my pants.”

  “And the woman you cheated with? Did they know?” This set of questions has a direct correlation with the theory I’m running. If any of the women he slept with while married experienced half the jealousy I’m being bombarded with now, they could have gone as far as kidnapping his wife and taking his daughter. I want to stab a bitch, and Dimitri isn’t even mine.

  “Know what, exactly?” His voice is so menacing, I peer down at his gun, anticipating for him to curl his finger around the trigger at any moment.

  When that fails to happen, I answer, “That you were married and expecting a child. Some women are very possessive. They may not have taken the news well.”