“If the hit comes through and I am not here, tell the agency that their payment is the diamonds that are hidden in the light fitting in room 3590 at the Venetian,” I reply.
“Diamonds. What fucking diamonds?” he yells. “I can’t fucking believe this. You have stolen fucking diamonds from Vikinos. Jesus Christ, Stace!”
“They are worth more that the thirty million I offered.”
“I’m not doing it,” he snaps.
“I love you, man.” I sigh sadly.
“Stace, stop. Listen to me, hand yourself in. We can get you off. I need you to hand yourself in. Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”
“Goodbye, Chris.” I hang up before he can say another word and put my phone on silent. It rings immediately again.
I close my eyes as I try to pull myself together. Damn it. I leave the room and run down the hall and jump in the elevator. I take it to the underground parking lot and calm myself as we get to the bottom. I can’t bring attention to myself.
Where were the fucking cops? They were supposed to have her, the stupid fucks. I am so fucking angry right now.
The doors open and I walk casually out into the parking lot and make a beeline for the back row of cars. I take out my gun and smash the window of a sedan and climb in. I pull the cover off the front dash and hotwire the car. I check the gas, nearly a full tank. That’s going to have to do. I reverse out and then floor it through the parking lot and drive straight through the gate that is down. The car smashes through out into the early morning and I floor it up the highway.
I take out my phone and put on the Find My Phone app and I hold my breath as I wait.
Finally, the little red light flashes.
Got you, baby.
Hold on.
* * *
Rosh
Relief hits me. I did it. I got her out of here. I turn to face my father; my murdering, cold-blooded father.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want you to marry Antonio.”
My eyes hold his. I need to distract him long enough for her to run. “Why?” I ask.
He starts to pace again as he puts his hand behind his back. “I told you, I’m dying.”
Can’t come soon enough.
My eyes turn to the men around me. Six in total. Four I was in the car with, and then the two guards with guns. His bodyguards.
I start to slowly look around for the exits. “Why do you need me?” I ask.
“I want to hand what I have worked so hard for down to my blood son.”
“He doesn’t want your filthy money.”
His dark eyes hold mine, and he steps forward toward me. The fear rises in my throat. No matter how much training I have done, nothing can cure the fear I have of this monster.
“Your son will take over the family business.”
“I don’t have a son.”
“Yet.” He smiles darkly. “But you will.”