by Morgan James
“A car ran the stop sign at the intersection of I-93 from the south and slammed into us—black, I think. The next thing I remember—”
The gunshot. The thought made me pause, and I ran my hands over my body, checking for any bandages. Jack watched me with a combination of concern and interest, and my brows drew together as I pieced together the events. My back was sore which meant he’d hit the plate, but the bullet hadn’t penetrated. “He didn’t shoot me.”
One dark brow lifted toward his hairline. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
My mind spun furiously. Why hadn’t he killed me when he had the chance? He was too close to have missed. If Jules’s fiancé had come to take her back, wouldn’t he have killed me on the spot instead of just warning me away? “When I reached over to check on Jules, she was gone. He said something like, ‘don’t come after her.’ There was a gunshot, and I blacked out.”
Jack swore, and I met his dark gaze. “I need to find her.”
“All right,” he acquiesced. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Three minutes later, Jack returned with the nurse holding a clipboard and a wheelchair. I eyed the contraption with no small amount of animosity. “No fucking way.”
“Hospital rules,” he replied. I swore I could hear the laughter in his voice though he concealed his smirk.
As if losing my fiancée hadn’t been enough of a blow to my pride. I scowled. “Jesus Christ. Let’s get this over with.”
I scrawled my signature over the papers the nurse presented in front of me then reluctantly climbed into the wheelchair, Jack at the helm. “If you dump me out of this thing, I’ll murder you,” I bit out.
This time, Jack couldn’t contain his laugh. “Tempting as that sounds, I wouldn’t do that to you. Gotta be in one piece to bring Jules home.”
His words triggered something else. The only personal effects in the hospital room were my clothes. I assumed that my cell, my wallet, everything else was still in my truck.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked as soon as we were settled in Jack’s Suburban. “I’m guessing mine was forgotten at the scene.”
Jack nodded. “I don’t remember seeing it, but I’m sure it’s there. Maybe one of your deputies grabbed it.”
I turned surprised eyes on him. “You were there?”
He nodded, his face serious. “I was the one who found you.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Thanks for your help.”
He offered a little nod as he passed his phone to me. I stared out the window as I dialed the number.
I’m coming for you, Jules.
Eleven
Giuliana
I blinked my eyes open and stretched, my muscles aching with the effort. My whole body hurt, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I felt sluggish and slow, like I was still half asleep. I closed my eyes again as I yawned, and fatigue pulled at me, along with another sensation I couldn’t identify.
What the hell had happened?
Memories came to me, like clips on an old-fashioned movie reel flickering frantically. Waking up in the car. The pain shooting through ever cell of my body. Getting violently ill and throwing up in the back seat. Someone forcing me to drink, then... blessed darkness.
My brows drew together. There was something before that, though... Eric had convinced me to go to breakfast this morning; we’d eaten at Rosie’s, then—
Oh, God. The accident.
My eyes flew open as I bolted upright—or tried to. My muscles refused to cooperate, and I flopped like a fish as pain spiderwebbed across my brain. I grasped my head, willing it to recede. The impact had slammed into Eric’s truck, sending us spinning. My head had hit the passenger side window, and everything after that seemed fuzzy.
There was a voice in the car. It had been familiar, yet I knew with certainty that it wasn’t Eric’s. The man had given me water, then... The thought of that sharp prick to my arm came back. I’d been drugged.
It was almost too unbelievable to contemplate. Who the hell would do that? And why?
I took quick stock of my body. Most of the pain seemed to be centralized in the back of my head. Did I have a concussion? I thought protocol dictated you keep someone awake if they had brain trauma, not put them to sleep. Unease spread through me.
Darkness shrouded the room, and it took me several moments to register when I was seeing. The ceiling, the walls, everything was familiar but... not. Was I dreaming?
I swallowed hard and tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Sinking back down into the mountain of pillows, I closed my eyes again. When I next opened them, a body occupied the chair next to my bed. Startled, I drew back until the man’s face came into focus.
“Matteo!”
His face pulled into an expression of worry, he stretched one hand across the white sheets and enveloped my fingers in his. “How are you feeling?”
I lifted my free hand to my head, feeling the pulsing of my veins behind my eyes. “My head hurts. What happened?” My gaze flew around the room, and my heartbeat accelerated as it made the connection. The walls were now bare, devoid of any decoration, but it was the same room I’d been confined to for years.
No, no, no.
I gripped Matteo’s hand, my fingers digging into his skin. “I can’t be here. Please, I have to leave. If I don’t, Uncle will—”
Matteo adjusted our hands and smiled soothingly at me. “The deal is off. You don’t worry about Nikolai now.”
I flopped back against the pillows. That was a small consolation. Matteo had to know that. My uncle had brought me back here for a reason. If not to sell me to Nikolai, then to someone else. I had to get out of here. “Matteo, please,” I pleaded with him. “They’ll kill me.”
“No, principessa.” Matteo shook his head. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Trust me.”
I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t want to hurt Matteo’s feelings by disrespecting him. In our family, it was the man’s job to protect their women; if Matteo thought he was in control, I wasn’t going to argue. Yet.
Damn it. I’d tried so hard to hide in plain sight. I paid for everything in cash and refused to put my name on anything. “How did you even find me?”
He closed his eyes briefly before meeting my gaze. “We—”
“Good. You’re awake.” I jumped as the door to my room slammed open and my uncle bustled through. “Right here.”
Yanking the covers up to my neck, I cowered against the headboard as a second man entered the room. Older with graying hair, he offered me a kindly smile. “Good morning, Miss.”
I eyed him warily. Who the hell was this? “Hello.”
Uncle Massimo jerked his chin toward him. “Get on with it.”
My brows drew together as the man slowly made his way toward me. “What are you doing?”
“My name is Dr. Hinckle,” he said as he set a small bag on the pristine white quilt covering the bed. He unzipped it and pulled out several instruments. “I’m here to examine you.”
I relaxed a fraction as he leaned close and took my head in his weathered hands, gently tilting it from side to side. “You were in an accident, yes?”
I nodded as he released me. “Yes. I—” My gaze shot to Uncle Massimo, and the words froze on the tip of my tongue.
The doctor made a little sound. “A few abrasions, but I’ll get those cleaned up. What I’m going to do now is check you for a concussion.”
He did so, checking my eyes and hearing, then moving lower to inspect my arms and torso for any injury.
“Mild concussion,” Dr. Hinckle directed toward my uncle. “But some rest over the next few days will fix that.”
Curling my fingers into the sheets, I nodded. I didn’t have a couple days—I didn’t have a couple hours. I needed to get the hell out of here and get back to Eric.
“Well?” Uncle Massimo snapped, dragging my attention back to him. “What are you waiting for?”
The doctor turned back
to me, and his lips turned up in an apologetic smile. “I’ll need you to lower the sheet, please, Miss.”
“Why?”
Uncle Massimo glared at me. “Do as he asks.”
I clenched my thighs tightly together, a sick sense of dread curdling in my stomach. I asked the question, though I already knew. “W-why?”
My uncle reached down and snatched the corner of the fabric, ripping it away. I let out a soft cry as I tried to cover myself. “Hey—!”
“Lie down.”
I trembled as I stared up at him. “N-no.”
My uncle’s searing dark gaze bore into mine. “Do not test me, Giuliana.”
I shook my head, a terrible sick feeling coming over me. “I won’t do it.”
I screamed as he grabbed one ankle and tugged. Matteo jumped from his seat, swearing at Massimo.
“No!” I begged, my eyes clouded with tears. “Please don’t!”
Shame and humiliation coursed through me, and I could feel the men’s gazes, hot and intent on my bare legs. I refused to expose myself to them. I couldn’t do it.
My uncle whipped a knife from a sheath in his waistband and pressed it against my stomach. “Spread your legs like the whore you are, or I’ll spill your blood all over this bed.”
The tip of the blade dug into the cavity of my stomach, and a dark bead of red appeared as I twitched under its sharp point.
Sobs wracked my body, and I covered my face as I allowed my knees to fall open. I tried to shut it out of my mind as someone—the doctor, I hoped—pulled my panties down my legs. Fresh tears leaked from my eyes as he inserted an instrument inside me. It was cold, and every touch felt like an invasion of my body.
Over the pounding in my ears, I barely heard the low hum of voices, then a door slammed. My panties were pulled back up into place, and the door opened then closed again, much softer this time.
Alone and completely ashamed, I curled up on my side under the covers and cried. Great, heaving sobs shook my body as I vented my frustration. My rage. My humiliation.
I stiffened as a warm body lay next to me, and Matteo pulled me into his arms, covers and all. “I’m sorry, principessa. I’m so sorry.”
Several long minutes later, exhausted from my outburst, I turned into his arms and bowed my head. “I hate him,” I whispered.
Matteo’s chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. “Me, too.”
“Does he still plan to give me to Nikolai?”
I felt Matteo’s chin brush over my hair as he shook his head. “No. The Russians retaliated after you...” He paused, then seemed to change direction. “It’s worse than before. We’ve been embroiled in a war for the past several months, and Nikolai has aligned himself with the Irish. Their numbers are small, but they’re dangerously unpredictable.”
I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or not. So why the hell did Uncle Massimo bring me back here if he didn’t plan to get rid of me? Was this just a power play to wield his control over me?
Matteo drew a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of Fox?”
I stiffened, horror washing over me. Oh, God. Even I’d heard of the man who went only by Fox because of his cunning and ruthless nature. Nikolai seemed like an infant next to Fox. Though he was an independent, he’d made a name for himself over the past several years. If Uncle wanted to screw the Russians, Fox was the ally to use. Matteo had told me that he tolerated nothing, and I’d heard that he once sawed off a man’s head with a box cutter just to prove a point.
A shiver racked my body, and my stomach rolled. “Matteo...”
“I would never let anything happen to you.”
“You can’t save me,” I lamented. If Uncle was negotiating with Fox... “It’s already done.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched. “Won’t stop me from trying.”
“What is he like?” What I really wanted to know was if I would have any chance of eluding him.
“Dangerous,” came Matteo’s response, low and gruff. “Do you remember when Elle Masterson disappeared?”
Daughter of the mayor of Chicago and wife to a senator, her disappearance had been big news nearly a year ago. Right before I’d left home, they’d found her body—what was left of it, anyway—buried in a shallow grave outside of town. “Was Fox... Did he...?”
Matteo nodded, but didn’t say anything else, and my body went cold. Those were two of the most powerful men in the state. How in the hell had Fox gotten away with it? That alone was a testament to his power. “I can’t stay here.”
“Trust me, Giuliana.” One heavy hand cupped the back of my head and held me close. “I’ll take care of you.”
I nodded, but I didn’t mean it. The only person I could trust was myself. One last tear squeezed from my eye, and I hastily brushed it away. Tears were for the weak; I was stronger than that. I wouldn’t let them break me. I wouldn’t bow to anyone. And I was going to get the hell out of here if it was the last thing I did.
Twelve
Eric
My deputies stood assembled around me in a semicircle, and I met each of their solemn gazes before I spoke. “Thank you all for coming in. As many of you know, I was involved in a car accident yesterday morning.”
“Glad you’re okay,” Riley spoke up.
Murmurs of agreement rose from the others, and I nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. Head still hurts like a bitch, and I’m sore as fuck, but we need to hit the ground running.”
From their mildly curious stares, I could tell they hadn’t heard the news yet. “I wasn’t the only one in the car yesterday. Jules was with me, but...” I drew a harsh breath before continuing. “When I came to, she was gone.”
My deputies stiffened, wariness and anger entering their eyes. I relayed everything that had happened, and the man’s last words to me before I blacked out again. It still didn’t feel real. My mind had replayed the memory thousands of times, and I’d begun to wonder if it was all a figment of my imagination, just some terrible dream that I’d concocted.
I shook the thought from my head. No. There had definitely been another person there, and he’d taken her from me. Jules and I had been on the verge of a breakthrough, but she hadn’t had time to tell me what was bothering her. She’d told me she was supposed to have been married, and I wondered if it was somehow related to her abduction. Was it him? Was that who’d kidnapped her? I cursed the fact that we’d been in my personal vehicle, because at least the cruiser had a dash cam.
I turned my focus back to the men in front of me. “Have any of you been to the scene yet?”
Hawkins tipped his head toward O’Neill. “We were up yesterday when McBride towed your car back to the shop.”
“Did you see anything?”
He shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Some broken glass, some orange plastic from what I’m assuming was a marker light.”
I nodded thoughtfully as I processed the information. Whoever was driving the vehicle had hit me damn hard. The impact would’ve been severe enough to do more damage to the front end than just busting out part of a headlight.
I drew back on my memory from the following morning. The vehicle had been a black blur as it plowed through the stop sign and into my fender, but I was positive the shape had been an SUV. There more than likely wouldn’t have been much time to clean up any debris before someone would’ve stumbled on them. That left me with one other option—the vehicle that hit me was armored. That in a way helped to narrow it down a little bit. It was outrageously expensive to outfit a vehicle like that, and few people could afford it. Definitely no one around here, that was for certain.
I glanced up at my men. “We need to get back up to the scene and see if we can find any other distinguishing marks or evidence,” I said as I pulled my phone from my back pocket, which O’Neill had returned to me as soon as I’d arrived this afternoon. “You guys head on up and I’ll meet you there. O’Neill,” I turned to the man as I addressed him. “You’ll stay here and hold down the fort.”
&n
bsp; He gave me one concise nod, and I strode back to my office, dialing as I went. There was really only one way out of Pine Ridge, and the main road went through Kalispell.
After three rings, Tom Rooney, the sheriff down in Kalispell, answered. “Donahue. What can I do for you?”
I looped behind my desk and wiggled my mouse to wake the computer monitor. “Need a favor. We have a missing persons here.”
My voice cracked as I said it, and I steeled my spine. I was determined to stay positive and not let myself think about the alternative. I quickly walked him through the events of yesterday morning, telling him about her recent change in behavior and her last words to me.
“My vehicle was struck at the intersection of Main and I-93, and a passenger was taken from the scene.”
He remained stoically silent as I gave him Jules’s description and told him my suspicions about the armored SUV. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “BOLO?”
I grimaced. “I didn’t catch the plate number, and no one seems to have seen anything.”
A deep breath filled the other end of the line, then— “You know I’ve got to ask,” he said haltingly. “No license, no way to trace her... you sure she didn’t leave willingly?”
It was a good question, but I was getting fucking tired of hearing it. “Positive,” I bit out.
Rooney sighed resignedly. “Send me a picture and I’ll circulate it, see what I can turn up.”
With that, he hung up. I started the phone for a minute, dozens of emotions swirling inside me. Fury that someone had taken her from me. Guilt that I hadn’t been able to stop them. Irrational anger that anyone thought she would willingly leave. The emotions bubbled to the surface, and I lashed out, swiping the contents of my desk onto the floor.
“Goddamn it!”
