Playboy Billionaire

ANTONIO

“I did it!” Jack looks just as stunned as I am, looking at the one-second left on the no longer ticking bomb.

“Not quite.” We both turn around to see Tito on the other side of the bars.

“What are you doing here?”

“Long story, not a lot of time to tell it. I bought us three minutes, then this thing will blow.” He’s twisting a keychain with a small chip at the end of it around his index finger.

“You have a key?” I look at the three locks and chains wrapped around the bars, and he holds up his finger for us to wait. Reaching into his pocket, rummaging around until he pulls out a strange key with a button on the end of it. He shoves it in the lock and presses the button. A small crack and smoke lifts from it, and when he pulls the key out, the first lock and chain fall to the ground. We watch with intrigue as he does the same to the remaining locks and hastily pulls the door open.

Jack and I rush to it quickly, and he nods his head for us to follow him. He takes off running, and we do the same. My brother, the genius, is finally coming into use. I didn’t realize how extensively he had prepared for situations like this, but I’m fucking grateful to not be dead. We turn the corner of the mineshaft down a dark hall. It smells like ocean water with a hint of seaweed, and the ground is muddy. We continue through it, slapping our shoes through the mud until we reach a creaky metal elevator that looks like the cage we were just trapped in.

“Come on.” Tito slides open the door manually. We jump in as he closes it, flicking a switch that begins to ascend to a brightening hole above us. He checks his watch just as we break into the daylight, a crane holding us just above the hole.

“Thirty seconds.” He slides open the door, and we book it up a muddy hill running for our lives. Wet long grass is brushing past my pant legs, dampening them as sweat rolls down my face, curls sticking to my forehead.

“Hurry.” Tito is panting worse than Jack and I, but he’s a couple of feet in front of us. As we near the top of the hill, I see the road and a black G-Wagon parked on the side of it.

“That’s mine! Load in!” Tito points to it, and we pick up our pace now that we can see an end to this miserable sprint. I run to the passenger side, and Tito takes the driver’s seat. As Jack gets in the back, Tito starts the car and takes off just after Jack closes his door. We’re driving crazy fast, and I wonder just how destructive this bomb will be if we’re still in a panic. Surely, we’re past those remaining thirty seconds.

And then I see it before I hear the boom. Like a volcanic eruption of fire and smoke shooting out of the hole from the mineshaft. It barely spreads beyond that hole, only rising in the air until it’s a thick black smokey cloud. Jack is on the phone calling the fire department just as it happens, and then the booming clap catches up to us as he hangs up.

Fuck. We could have been in there, burnt into nothing. I take a sigh of relief as we continue to drive.

“Thanks, Tito.” I slap his arm.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He presses his foot down on the pedal, and we continue to speed as he checks the watch on his other arm. Interesting choice to have two watches, but I didn’t think much of it earlier because it’s Tito.

“Tito?” I ask, implying he tell me what the fuck is going on.

“You know that gift I gave you?”

“Huh?”

“The ring. Ma’s ring?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I customized it.”

“Okay?”

“I put a tracking chip in it. I came here because Madame Lombardi called Vince to tell him she spotted the Russians outside her house with weapons. Vince looked into it and wouldn’t let me help. So, I checked the tracking chips I placed in Stella’s ring and your watch. Saw they were very far apart and figured something was up. I took my jet here late last night and—“

“Wait, Stella never made it back?”

“No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I think the Russians are up to something. I don’t know what, but they never took off her ring, and she’s headed to the city.”

“And you’re sure she didn’t just decide to go on some shopping spree or something.”

“Madame Lombardi can’t get ahold of her or Alk. So, yes, I’m almost positive.”

“Almost,” I emphasize, and he rolls his eyes.

“Trust me.”

“So we’re gonna what? Go looking for her and hope we don’t get our heads blown off when the Russians see our three-man rescue squad.”