by Bethany-Kris
Without him, there was no point to her.
She was not her without him.
Lucia would rather be dead.
But how could she help?
How could she take away one of the backups?
Lucia’s gaze drifted to the item sitting at the top of her bag—her cell phone. She eyed it for a second before it clicked in her head like a lightbulb going off. It should have been obvious, but nothing seemed to be coming easy to her lately.
Why would this be any different?
Christian had given her the number to his phone.
Hadn’t he?
He’d plugged it into her phone at the hotel.
Would a man like that pass up the chance to rub salt in the wound if she was practically offering herself to him?
She didn’t think so.
Lucia passed her father another look. He was still staring upward, but now, his lips moved silently. Probably mirroring the words he was speaking inside his head where no one but him and God could hear.
She just needed to get away from her father.
Luck would take care of the rest.
Hopefully.
• • •
“Daddy?”
“Lucia, just … don’t.”
The retching sound behind the door came again, and she cringed. Stepping back from the door because there was no way her father was going to let her inside the bathroom to help him, she glanced at the doorway of the hospital room.
This was her only chance.
She felt like shit for doing it. Her father was at his weakest point right now—sick, and in need of her help, or someone’s help. He didn’t need to come out of the private room’s bathroom just to find she had snuck out on him.
But how else could she do it?
When would she get the chance?
Lucia would apologize later.
That’s what this whole thing with her father had taught her. That’s what he taught her, and Renzo, too. There was nothing that couldn’t be fixed later. It didn’t matter when the apology came, just that it did, and it was genuine.
So yeah, she could apologize later.
Her father would understand.
She hoped …
Lucia headed out of the room after grabbing her things. Slipping her coat on, and slinging her bag around her shoulder, she fished the cell phone out as she came up to the nurses’ station. The woman who had been checking up on her father every ten minutes looked up at Lucia with a wide smile.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Lucia shrugged. “He’s getting sick again. It’s not passing. Maybe some meds this time?”
The nurse frowned, but nodded. “Sometimes that happens. I’ll bring something in right away.”
“Thanks, and uh … could you tell him I just had to run down to grab something to eat from the cafeteria? I’ll be right back.”
All lies.
The nurse didn’t know.
Neither would her father.
But it might give her at least twenty or so minutes to get ahead of her father, and anyone he might think to send after her if he caught onto her plans. That was all she needed—a head start to help Renzo.
Lucian wouldn’t understand.
Not now.
The nurse smiled. “Will do. I’m sure he appreciates you being here, Lucia.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Inside her head, though, she was thinking lay that guilt on a little thicker, please. “Thanks again.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, Lucia headed down the corridor. She just stepped out of the double doors for the section when she finally found Christian’s contact in her phone. The asshole had even put in a winking emoji next to his name and number like that was supposed to be cute, or something.
It wasn’t.
Fucking annoying, really.
Lucia hit the call button before she could think better of it, and then put the phone to her ear. She kept walking toward the bank of elevators waiting at the end of the hallway as the call rang two, and then three times. She was sure it was going to go to the voicemail, but halfway through the fourth ring, he picked up.
Because just like she thought … yeah, Christian was that kind of man. He’d rub the salt in the wound. He’d be the asshole to spit on the grave. He’d kick a man while he was down.
Today, that man was her father.
And the love of her life.
So yeah, fuck him.
“Lucia?” Christian asked carefully.
She heard it in his voice—the hesitance. Like maybe it wasn’t going to be her on the other end of that call, but it was.
“Hey,” she said, desperately trying to keep her tone calm. She didn’t think it would help her cause for him to know she was panicking, and her heart felt like it was about to come right out of her chest. She never had been able to deal with anxiety well. But who could? “This is Christian, right?”
“It is. Why are you calling me, bella?”
Oh, he was still on the sweet nothings, huh?
Good.
“I’m heading for the airport today,” she lied. “Heading back to Cali, but I didn’t know if I would get the chance to see you again. I haven’t even seen my family today, but I think I’ve seen enough of them to do me a while, anyway.”
“Why’s that, donna?”
“Bad history. I’m ready to leave.”
“Ah, I understand. So, why the call today?”
Lucia wet her lips, and prayed her lie came out as easily and smoothly as she heard it in her mind. “I was hoping we might be able to meet up. I didn’t get the chance to speak to you again, and I might not get to see you when I’m in Cali?”
“I was done with the art print business,” he admitted. “Surely, your family has called you today, haven’t they? Don’t they want to spend some time with you?”
Yeah, there he went.
Testing the waters.
“I ignored their calls earlier,” she said. “I mean, if you’re busy, then maybe we can figure something else—”
“No, no. Not busy,” Christian said. “I’ll text you the new hotel’s address. Expect a man to be there to check you when you arrive. I hope you understand. I have … some things going on today, so we’re being careful.”
Lucia smiled.
Stupid man.
“You got it. See you soon.”
She let Christian hang up the call first. His text for the address where she had to go came less than two seconds later.
The man wasn’t fucking around.
Good.
Neither was she.
• • •
Lucia stepped out of the cab after paying the man, and pulled her phone from her pocket. She didn’t even think about it—she had her head start, now. Her father could do with it what he wanted, if he needed to. She just needed that extra time.
She sent a single text to her father.
The address of the hotel.
And then, I love you, Daddy. I’m sorry. She dropped her phone in a trashcan as she passed it by, just because. There was supposed to be a man who would check her, right? She didn’t think it would be good for him to find that message in her phone.
Lucia didn’t even have to open the front door of the hotel. The man in question was waiting there to do it for her. He said nothing, but took her bag after she said, “I’m here to see Christian Savino.”
Silence.
That’s all she got from him.
Ass.
He checked her bag, and then her coat when he waved for her to hand that over, too. Jesus. Once he was satisfied that she wasn’t trying to pull anything on them—apparently, he hadn’t seen her toss the phone into the garbage can outside—he handed over a single key card.
305.
That was the room number.
Lucia didn’t even bother to thank the man. He hadn’t said a single word to her. Heading for the bank of elevators at the other end of the hotel’s main entrance, her nerves finally started
to pick up once she pressed the button. It got worse when the elevator opened.
Lucia sucked in a breath to force herself to be calm, and stepped inside. Once the doors were closed, she felt like there was no turning back now. She didn’t know what was going to be waiting for her upstairs, but she couldn’t stop.
Now or never …
She suspected the man downstairs had let Christian know she was coming up because by the time she arrived at his hotel room, the man was waiting for her at the door. He looked slightly disheveled, more so than she had ever seen him before. His usually put together appearance was mussed with a wrinkled shirt, and his wild hair.
Still, he smiled.
That charming smile.
Lucia smiled back.
All lies.
“Are you sure you’re not busy?” she asked.
Just over his shoulder, she could see the spread of monitors that the man had set up on a table. Four monitors, to be exact. On one, showcasing the outside of what looked to be a large building—the warehouse, likely—a dark car pulled up.
She recognized that car.
It was Renzo’s rental.
Time for a distraction, then.
Lucia smiled a little wider at Christian, wanting to keep his eyes on her. “I can come back, if—”
“No,” he said, tipping his head to the side, “the show is just getting started. I think it’ll be even better to watch it with you.”
Fine, if that’s what he wanted.
She needed to get his phone, though. That’s what he’d told her father, right? He needed his phone for the kill switch.
NINETEEN
Stepping out of the vehicle, Renzo felt the cool rush of air sweep under his jacket. He eyed the exit door of the warehouse where he knew the Marcello men were currently stuck inside, waiting for the bomb to blow.
Figuratively.
And literally.
Shooting a look to the side at the sounds of murmurings, Renzo found another small army of cars and men. A few, he recognized just from having grown up on the goddamn streets. Anybody hustling on the streets knew the important faces of the crime families controlling New York. It wasn’t smart to play stupid on that sort of thing.
Renzo hadn’t seen these men in years, though.
Not even on the news.
Giovanni Marcello shoved his older brother away when Dante came closer, and then jabbed a pointed finger back at the warehouse. His mouth opened to shout at the other man, but he quickly snapped it shut when the two realized Renzo was standing there watching their little spat without any shame.
If people were going to have public moments, then they should expect the public to consume it. That’s what humans did.
Giovanni was quick to straighten up, and fix his suit jacket. Dante was already turning to greet Renzo as he came closer to the two men. A couple of cars away, a group of gathered men were huddled in a semi-circle. Probably discussing a plan to get the others out of the warehouse, although Renzo couldn’t be sure.
He knew if that was what they were discussing, well … he had bad news for them. There was no way out from the outside. Someone was going to have to go in, and work it out from inside. He doubted any of these people wanted to go inside that fucking warehouse. It was human nature to not want to be the sacrifice.
Renzo didn’t blame them.
And he was the only person in this city who might be equipped to deal with a bomb of this standard. Especially if everything Christian said about the bomb was true—that it was big enough to level a good portion of this block; that it had several backups to blow if the first and second didn’t work; that he had a kill switch.
Problem was … Renzo wouldn’t be able to know if those things about the bomb were true unless he went inside. He had to get his eyes on the bomb. He had to get his fucking hands on it, and see how it was wired. Look at all the bits and parts—the electronics attached, and the method used to make it tick.
Then, and only then, would Renzo be able to determine if what Christian said was entirely true, or only partly true. And if it was all true, then he had to figure something out for these people, and fast.
Because they were all fucked.
Every last one of them.
“You’re gonna have to get out of here,” Renzo told the only Marcello looking his way—Dante. “As I know it, that bomb is big enough to blow this place out, and the block, too. Anyone standing within a block of this place could be in serious danger.”
Dante nodded, and opened his mouth to start to say, “Yeah, I got—”
“We’re not fucking going anywhere.”
Renzo’s gaze drifted to the angrier of the two. Or shit, maybe Giovanni—Andino’s father, as far as he knew—was just terrified. His son was inside. He couldn’t go in. “You want your wife to bury a son, nephew, and a husband when they finally dig your bodies out of the rubble?”
Giovanni’s jaw hardened in his frustration. “I can’t go. He’s right there,” the man snapped, pointing at the fucking wall like Renzo couldn’t see it. “He’s right there, okay. He’s just beyond that fucking wall, and you want me to go?”
“Emotions are a bit high here,” Dante murmured. “We got the same messages as Lucian, and the live feeds. We’re all informed on what’s inside, and how it’s going to go down if someone can’t get them out, or disengage the bomb.”
The other man let out a hard laugh, and threw his arms up in the air. He stared at the sky, and let out a shout that echoed over the alleyway between two warehouses. The other men who were standing in their semi-circle immediately quieted, and shot Giovanni a curious look. Or maybe it was one of worry.
The man looked ready to go off.
Renzo didn’t blame him.
“You have to relax,” Dante told his brother. “This isn’t good for anyone, Gio.”
“That’s my only kid, Dante,” Giovanni barked at his brother.
“I know that!”
Gio shook his head wildly. “No, you don’t. You can’t possibly know because he’s not yours. He’s mine. He’s the only fucking one I got, okay? And he’s got kids at home that he needs to get back to—and a wife. And I’ve got a fucking wife I have to go home to and explain what happened here today. If I go home, and I have to tell her we’re going to bury him … oh, you just … you can fuck right off with that shit.”
“Gio—”
The other man started to walk away from his brother with a hand tossed high over his shoulder. “Fuck off.”
Renzo sighed, and gave Dante a look. “Listen, let him be angry. This is a high stress situation, and you don’t have a kid in there, right?”
Dante shook his head. “One is on call right now for us—he’s a trauma surgeon. Another is flying to California today. So, no.”
“Get the surgeon closer; within a couple blocks.”
The older man cleared his throat, and glanced away. “You think—”
“Nothing. I think nothing. I know it’s better to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, though.”
“Yeah, all right.”
“But for the record …” Renzo cleared his throat, and shifted on his feet as he shoved his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. “You need the surgeon closer for anyone around. Because if that blows, he won’t save anyone inside. You all do need to get as far away from here as you can while I’m inside.”
Dante let out a quiet noise. “I don’t know if I can get Gio—”
“Then you fucking drag him out of here. It’s not negotiable.”
“Can you minimize the impact of the blast in any way?”
Renzo shrugged. “I can’t tell you anything about that bomb until I’m inside there, eye-level with it, looking at all the parts of it that make it tick. But typically, from what I know about bombs like this … no, I won’t be able to minimize the blast should it go off.”
“Fuck.”
Yeah.
Fuck was right.
Dante calmed his outburst, and
turned to Renzo with a final nod. “Okay, I’ll make sure the area is clear. Anything you need before you go in?”
Renzo had to think about that one—there was one thing he really wanted, but he couldn’t have it right now. He wanted to speak to Lucia.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her, and if today didn’t end the way he was praying for it to, that he was sorry they didn’t get the chance to see this thing between them through like they should have been able to.
He wanted to apologize for leaving the hospital without telling her goodbye, but he was just like his little brother, honestly. He was like Diego because goodbye scared him, too. Goodbye, to him, felt way too final, and he wasn’t trying to go away forever. He was trying to get back to her. He didn’t think she would understand.
He wanted to tell her that she was worth the fucking world and more to him. Always would be.
That’s why he was here today.
For her.
But she messed up his head—it wasn’t even her fault because he loved it, usually. But today, he couldn’t afford for her to put him off his game.
So, Renzo shook his head and replied, “No, I got everything I need in my pockets, thanks.”
Dante pulled out the phone in his hand, and asked, “What’s your phone number—I want a direct line while you’re in there.”
Renzo rattled it off as he headed for the side exit door that he suspected had been left unlocked for everyone to go inside the warehouse without issues. Yeah, he bet Christian had been planning this for a while, and now it suddenly made sense why the asshole had been playing down in this district of Brooklyn when Renzo followed him.
Not that it mattered now.
He had other things to do.
• • •
Renzo had just stepped inside the warehouse, and let the door close behind him with an audible click as the phone in his hand buzzed. He didn’t want to look down at it and see whatever message was waiting for him when in that moment, he had to drag in a breath and calm himself. He had to feel the full weight of the realization that now, there was no going back.
He was inside.
Leaving meant death.
This was it.
Once he took that breath, he lifted the phone in his hand to check the message scrolling across the home screen. A text from Dante, it looked like. Renzo might have been fine with that if not for the words the man had sent him.
