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Tap-tap... tap.
My heart lurches. I know that pattern.
When we were kids Jessica and I had adjacent bedrooms in our house. On nights when Dad was particularly harsh during my practice sessions, when I'd retreat to my room fighting back tears, Jessica would tap on our shared wall.
Tap-tap... tap. Our secret code. Our way of saying ‘I'm here’ when words weren't possible.
I scramble off the cot and press my ear against the cold concrete wall.
Tap-tap... tap.
"Jessica?" I say, my voice cracking. I knock back the same pattern, my hand trembling.
Tap-tap... tap.
"Oh my God, Jess, is that you?" I press both palms against the wall, as if I could somehow reach through it to her. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The response comes: two quick taps, then three slow ones. Our childhood code for ‘I'm okay’.
Tears spring to my eyes. "Jessica," I breathe, relief flooding through me. She's here. She's alive.
CHAPTER 24
I'm out the door before Damiano can say another word. Evelyn's gone to Ivan. She's fucking gone to Ivan. The thought pounds through my head with each step, a drum of rage and fear.
My bike waits in the circular driveway, sleek and ready. I swing my leg over, the engine roaring to life under me. The vibration steadies me, gives me something to focus on besides the image of Ivan's hands on Evelyn.
I tear down the winding driveway toward the main gate, planning my attack. Ivan's townhouse has security, but nothing I can't handle. I'll need to be quick, efficient. Get in, find Evelyn, get out. Kill anyone who stands in my way.
The gate looms ahead, still closed. I slow, expecting it to open as I approach.
It doesn't.
Two guards stand at attention, hands on their weapons. I rev the engine, signaling them to open up.
They don't move.
"Open the fucking gate," I shout, killing the engine.
The taller guard steps forward. "Sorry, Mr. Rivera. We have orders."
"What orders?"
"Not to let you leave the property."
The rage that's been building explodes. "Are you fucking kidding me? Open the goddamn gate before I open it myself."
"Mr. Feretti's orders, sir."
"I don't give a fuck about Damiano's orders."
The guards exchange glances but stand firm.
"Move," I growl, starting my bike again. "Or I go through you."
The shorter guard shifts uncomfortably. "We can call Mr. Feretti?—"
"There's no time!" I slam my fist against the handlebars. "Every minute we waste—" I can't finish the sentence. The thought of what Ivan might be doing to her makes me sick.