Page 33

He laughs—a deep, rich laugh that grates on my nerves. I winch his shoulder back, putting extra pressure into the wound, and his laughter turns to screams. When I pull back, he laughs again, and it fuels my rage, fanning the flames of anger in my gut.
“Marco, the kneecap,” I command.
Marco looks up from his post near the waterboarding station and shoots out the guy’s kneecap without a second thought. Chernekov screams, trying to rock back and forth, trying to straighten out his fucked-up leg, but he’s tied up.
“Care to tell me now?”
“Enzo Cavalli,” he sneers, laughing through the pain. “The most brilliant guy at Yale. The best hacker in the world… I thought you’d be smarter than this.”
His refusal to reveal anything is getting to me. Usually, I’m much calmer and cooler in the face of this type of bravado, but tonight, I’m too frustrated.
And these attacks are too close to my heart.
This isn’t a fire in my warehouse. This is a direct threat to my child and Lenny.
“She said you’d figure it out,” he scoffs, groaning in pain. “But you’re adurak,just as I thought.”
The fact that he called me a dumbass in Russian doesn’t get past me, but I’m more focused on theshepart of his little speech.
“Who is she?”
“Eight,” he cries, hysteria starting to set in. “She’s eight, you fucking fool… and she’s going to get your little girlfriend, and your daughter, too.”
I shoot him in the head without a second thought. Joe groans and curses my name across the room, but I don’t give a shit. This fucker deserved to die.
“Enzo,” Joe scolds. “Too soon. He could have told us more.”
“I know his type,” I grunt, wiping my bloody hand on the dead man’s shirt. “He doesn’t care about his own life. He wouldn’t have helped.”
I stroll out of the room, reflecting on what I just learned. The Russian name threw me off. That the person behind this is a woman threw me off even more.
“She’s eight,”replays on a loop in my head.
There has to be significance behind that number, and I need to figure it out before Lenny and Matilda get caught in the crossfire.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Valentina
“Good girl,tell me what you want,” he commands. “I need to hear it.”
I moan, low and desperate, pulling him closer.
“No, Lenny, you have to tell me what you want,” he whispers, nipping my ear lobe. His fingers gently stroke my inner thigh, so close yet much too far. “Learn to speak for yourself.”
“You,” I groan. “I only want you.”
I wake with a start, my breath coming in fast and hot. My body is drenched in sweat, even though it’s a bitterly cold morning.
I’m uncomfortably turned on, I realize, as I slide my hands down my body. Gently, I stroke my rock-hard nipples, willing them to calm down.
I need to stop having these dreams about him.
Although they’re not just dreams. Ever since the night at his apartment, long-forgotten memories have been resurfacing as dreams, haunting my soul. Every morning, I wake up either aggressively horny or completely despondent.
I roll over and check my phone—five missed calls from Enzo and one from my father. Two people that have a strong pull onme, in very different ways. Deciding I don’t want to speak to either of them, I force myself out of my warm bed and into the shower.
When I stumble down the stairs in search of coffee, Uncle Luigi is already there. He slides a full, steaming cup toward me and raises his eyebrows.