Stolen Lies (Truths and Lies 2)

Basil and Bronn both nod as I take the steps up two at a time. My arm hurts like a motherfucker, but I’m high on adrenaline. I’ve thirsted for vengeance for what feels like forever. I’m finally getting it. Fucking finally.

I run through the rain toward the front gate with my AR raised and ready to fire. My staff are trained in the event we’re ever attacked, so the guests should be fairly safe, although it’s going to be a helluva PR nightmare. I’ll have Josef pissed as fuck having to cover our shit, but there’s nothing money won’t buy—even the Minister of Public Order’s compliance.

When the Porsche comes into view, flashes of light can be seen in conjunction with pops of gunfire. My men are shooting into the vehicle against my orders. What the fuck!

Racing toward them, I nearly mow down Adrian in the process.

“They shot him against direct orders—”

“Something isn’t right, Boss!” Adrian barks out.

I shove past him toward the Porsche. Pushing a guy out of my way, I fling open the door. A man and a woman are slumped over, the entire interior splattered with their blood. The guy is an older man with his hands tied behind his back. The woman has gray hair and her arms are bound too.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Talia.

Bullets spray at me and I dive down into the mud, wincing at the pain searing through my hip where I’ve been clipped. The guy I’d pushed away splats beside me, his head blown off.

“Boss,” Adrian calls out from nearby. “Stay the fuck down. I’m gonna get the bastard!”

Rolling onto my back, I wince when my arm screams in protest and my hip burns like a motherfucker. I strain my neck, searching for the shooter. The rain is relentless and it’s dark as fuck. I work myself into a squat and rush around to the back of the car. Popping can be heard just north. I see Adrian’s big form not far away. We make eye contact and I nod at him, pointing in the direction of the shooter.

We’re coming for you, asshole.

And you’re going to wish you’d never been fucking born.

Talia

With Zoe clinging to my chest, I listen to the front door slam closed. Zoe, the six-month-old that she is, squirms, wanting to play in the closet. She doesn’t understand what’s going on, or that she was born into a world where the villains and monsters I read to her about, the ones who always get taken down by the white knights, are real, and they don’t get taken down as easily in real life as they do in her books. Sometimes, in fact, they don’t get taken down at all.

Once upon a time I thought Kostas was a monster. But now that I’ve seen Aris in action, I know the difference. Whereas Kostas is powerful and smart, and makes calculated decisions, Aris is cruel and vindictive, and makes decisions based on his emotions. His need for revenge. Kostas may not be like the knights in Zoe’s books, but he’s still my knight. And I know without a doubt my dark knight will do everything in his power to make sure his princesses are safe.

Where is he?

What’s taking so long?

The booms we heard sounded like explosions. I pray Mom and Stefano are safe someplace. I should try to call and check on them, but not until Zoe and I are in the clear. Kostas would lose his mind if I left the closet to look for them. I have to trust my stepdad will take care of Mom.

Fear clings to me and I can’t shake it off. An ominous feeling washes over me. I’m not safe here in this closet. Deep down, I know it’s Aris. He can’t let his brother win. It’s all he’s bitched about for a year. Destroying him. Toying with him. We’re Kostas’s weakness and Aris is smart enough to know that. He’ll hunt us down. Nothing will satisfy him until he has us.

Over my dead body.

I’ll shoot him in the face before I let him take us again.

I can’t live as a captive ever again. I won’t do that to Zoe.

“Ba-ba-ba,” Zoe babbles around the pacifier I keep trying to push back into her mouth to keep her quiet. She’s getting annoyed that I won’t let her loose to play. In a few minutes, she’s going to get frustrated and will soon be screaming her tiny little head off. My daughter doesn’t do well with being confined. Hopefully, whatever is happening, will be over by then.

Hope is worthless at a time like this. My brain trumps the hope flittering in my heart. These people are mobsters, not normal men. That means hope is useless, unlike the gun beside me.

Feeling around in the dark, I find a shoe and try to hand it to Zoe to distract her. She takes it for a second before she drops it to the ground and wriggles, trying to get free.