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We’d get past this.
There was no other alternative.
So I’d pretend I was patient, keeping her close, and be ready to tell her how I felt.
I reached her building, prepared to knock on the door.
Noticed that it was broken again. The frame I’d made sure was reinforced was splintered. The knob was busted, hanging uselessly against the door.
“Franco!” I called out to the guard I’d put on Molly’s place.
Just inside the foyer, I saw him.
One of Don Carlo’s older soldiers.
Near retirement—so suited for the kind of protection detail Molly needed.
And I realized I had made a terrible mistake.
Because Franco was dead.
And Molly was gone.
ELEVEN
Molly
“Enzo is goingto come for me,” I said.
I didn’t sound as confident as I had hoped, which said nothing about how I felt.
“Enzo doesn’t even know you’re gone, doll,” Fabiano said.
My stomach curdled at the sound of that pet name from him.
Hearing it from Enzo warmed my heart.
Hearing it from Fabiano made my skin crawl.
But I refused to let it show.
“Why am I here, Fabiano?” I said.
“You don’t mean shit to me, but you’ll work good enough for bait,” Fabiano said.
“Well, I guess I appreciate the honesty,” I responded dryly.
“That smart fucking mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble,” Fabiano said.
His voice was no more intimidating now than it had been the night he tried to mug me. But then, I hadn’t been tied to a chair after being driven to God knows where. Now, though, my wrists were raw from the tape, my throat dry, and feet freezing becausethe open-toed shoes I thought were so cute were no match for the frigid concrete floor.
So no—Fabiano’s voice wasn’t intimidating.
But the fact that I had been kidnapped definitely was.
“I don’t have anything to do with this,” I said.
“Enzo said you’re his. So you do,” he said.