Page 11 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

ANGELO

When I received the call from Ilias, I was face down in my bed, the cool cotton of my sheets a blissful reprieve against my split cheek.

My body ached, my knuckles still raw from the night before—a business dispute that had turned bloody.

Sleep barely began to sink its claws into me when my phone started buzzing—a shrill, insistent vibration against the nightstand cut through the silence of my bedroom.

I initially ignored it, groaning as I buried my face in the pillow. But it kept ringing. Persistent. Demanding. My instincts, honed by years in this life, sent a shot of adrenaline through me. Ilias didn’t call just for shits and giggles.

I reached for the phone, swiping it off the nightstand and putting it on speaker as I rolled onto my back. My ribs protested the movement. “What’s up?” My voice was thick with exhaustion, my brain still sluggish from too little sleep and too much scotch.

“Theo’s been snatched.”

That did it.

I bolted upright, the words hitting me like a freight train. My breath rushed out of my lungs, and my fingers tightened around the phone. My mind raced, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.

“I thought you had eyes? You said you had people there?” I shoved the sheets aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pressing the heel of my hand to my temple to force myself fully awake.

I hit the speaker button and tossed the phone onto the dresser as I yanked open a drawer, searching for clean clothes.

“We did,” Ilias snapped, frustration evident in his voice.

“It hasn’t been close protection. They’ve always watched from a distance.

” I yanked on a pair of black slacks, my mind racing a thousand miles an hour.

I wanted to interject and complain about his security, but I kept my mouth shut.

“She was supposed to be meeting a designer. The place was poorly lit, with no cameras.”

“What do we know? Anything? ” I pulled a black shirt over my head, not bothering to check for wrinkles.

“They had transpo outside. They knew what they were doing, in and out, in under two minutes. My guy outside barely caught a glimpse before they vanished.”

“Who the fuck is responsible? What about the designer she was meeting?” My voice rising.

Silence. A beat too long.

“Kostas is on it, but he’s already contacted Theo’s assistant to find out what she knows.

” A feeling rose up in me that I didn’t like — unfamiliar and conflicted.

“Bassimo something or other, but he’s been in the States working in California on some movie.

It was a set-up. I don’t know,” Ilias admitted, and the fury in his voice mirrored my own.

“She met a woman, but the servers didn’t get a good look. I’ll find out more.”

“No,” I snapped, shoving my feet into my shoes. “I’ll find out.”

Theo was mine to deal with. Mine to bring back. My stomach twisted at the thought of her in some bastard’s hands, scared, alone, or worse—no, I wouldn’t go there.

“I’m getting on a plane,” I said, grabbing my keys and sliding my gun into its holster. “I’ll call you when I land.”

Ilias exhaled sharply but didn’t argue. “I’m coming with you.”

I was already on the move, firing off texts to my men, Maxim, and Conall. “Meet me at the airstrip then.”