“No, Cristiano.”
I walk to my closet, pull on the first pair of jeans I see along with a T-shirt. It hurts like fucking hell when I raise my arm to do it. I pull on socks and a pair of boots.
“Where did he take Scarlett?” I ask him when I’m back in the bedroom and open the drawer where I keep one of the Glocks. I slip the holstered weapon onto my shoulder before pulling on a jacket.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” my brother asks.
“I’m going to get my wife.” I change direction, head toward him. “Where did he take her?”
He doesn’t back away. “You can’t go anywhere. You need to heal.”
I get in his face. “You let him take my wife.”
“She betrayed you!”
“She did not! And I told you that you don’t lay a fucking finger on her, not if I’m alive and not if I’m dead. You knew that. You promised me you’d protect her. You fucking promised me.”
He doesn’t back down, not at first. But then steps back, drops to a seat on the chair and wraps one hand around the back of his neck before shifting his gaze out the window.
There’s a knock on the door then and Antonio opens it, the expression on his face urgent.
He stops just inside the door when he sees us.
“Cristiano,” he starts, looking me over. “Are you—”
“I’m fine.”
“I have a location in Rotterdam.”
“Fuck,” Dante says.
I only glance at him. I’m so pissed at him I could kill him.
“Is my wife there?”
“There’s some buzz that would suggest she is or will be soon.”
“And my uncle. Where exactly is he?”
“The plane he took landed at a private airfield outside of Rotterdam three nights ago,” Dante answers.
We both turn to him. “I had it tracked.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you do that if you don’t believe he’d betray us?”
“I don’t fucking know.” Dante shakes his head, runs his hand through his messy hair yet again.
“You do fucking know.”
“He’s always done right by me. By us.”
“No, Brother. He hasn’t. And he owes me some answers.” I turn to Antonio. “Have you arranged transportation?”
He nods once.
“And Noah? Any sign?”
“Tunnel was accessed recently,” Antonio says. I told him where to look. “The vehicle you mentioned on the other side gone.”
“Good.”
“You want me to put men out looking for him?”
“No. Better if the kid disappears.”
“All right.”
“Let’s go.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dante says.
I stop, look back at him. “Why?”
“Because if you’re right then Uncle David owes me answers too.”
“Fine. But if you get in my way, I’ll fucking hurt you, brother or not.”
“Understood.”
Antonio walks out first and just before I step away, Dante puts a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I just thought…I thought I’d lost you again.”
I pull my arm away. “You can apologize to my wife when we get her back and we’d better get her back. Alive.”
32
Scarlett
A woman brings me food and water. Each time she keeps her eyes cast down and is let inside by a different man. He stands at the door with his hand on the key in the lock as she clears out one dish to swap it out for another.
I eat a little bit of the stale bread but leave the cold meat. The scent of which makes my stomach turn. It looks to be leftovers someone else didn’t finish. I drink all the water, which I’m grateful is bottled.
I realize the bucket beside the bed is my toilet. My cuffed arm just allows me access to it and when I have to pee, I try not to think of the camera.
I’ve spent two nights here, I guess, assuming that I was knocked out only for a few hours. When I woke up it was already dark. I can hear noise on the street if I concentrate. I think we’re in a city, but this house or at least my room is up high enough and must be tucked out of the way enough, that I have to strain my ears to hear it.
It’s the morning of the third day that I hear different voices.
David’s is one. He’s speaking English. The other one I recognize too. I heard it the morning Jacob kidnapped me and took me to that pier.
“Cover her for fuck’s sake.”
I shudder at the memory of Jacob’s blood splattering across my face and remember the scent of the jacket that someone had draped over my shoulders. The door opens just as I place the voice.
Felix Pérez stands in the doorway of the decrepit room. He finishes what he was saying, a smile easy on his face when he takes in first the surroundings and then me.
He steps inside and David follows.
Felix looks different than I remember him, but it’s been so many years. He’s still as short, just a little over five and a half feet. And he’s losing his hair. I notice when he walks inside, glancing at my bucket before crossing the room to look out of the window, that a bald spot has begun to form at the crown of his head. I wonder if he realizes it. Do men realize when they start to go bald? I mean, it’s not like they see that part of their head.