Page 58 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

thirty-six

CASSIA

“Put the gun down,” a gruff voice carries down the line.

My stomach leaps into my throat, and I bolt off the couch, clenching the phone. “Mace?”

“What do we do with him?” another voice asks.

“He’ll swim with the fishes once the deal is done.”

Something crashes and fabric rasps over the speaker. The sudden quiet is a severed limb. One moment Mace was there, talking to me, and the next, he’s gone.

I shake my head and try again. “Mace?” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stare at the home screen on display, and it blurs as tears fill my vision.

My muscles constrict. “Mace,” I say again, voice breaking alongside the realization that he’s in danger.

Heart palpitations flutter in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I dial him again, pressing the phone to my ear, pinching my eyes together and hoping.

Praying to a divinity that’s never been kind to me that he’s okay, but that same cruel master in the sky is no help. The call goes straight to voicemail.

My heart is trembling .

Tears blur my vision.

I try him again.

The call goes to voicemail.

My legs weaken.

Cheeks soaking wet.

I try again.

Call goes to voicemail.

Lungs suffocating.

Voice lost.

I try.

Goes to voicemail.

Breaking.

Hopeless.

Again.

Voicemail .

A fissure starts in my heart, spreads through my chest, torso, spiderwebbing across my entire body.

One little touch, another cruel stroke, and I’ll shatter into a million pieces.

As my knees knock together and I sink to the floor, a heavy sob is forced out of my body, hot and wet and painful, sorrow I can taste on my lips, feel in my face.

Tears that come unbidden and unrelenting.

No. No. No. Not again. No. They can’t hurt him. I love him. I rub my aching heart, shaking my head. I can’t lose him.

He can’t die too.

Not after everything.

Not when we were finally happy.

Something heavy settles in my throat.

The weight crushing, the pressure building in my chest and lungs, the heat of it burning inside of me, everything compounding until it all comes out in a piercing scream.

A sound that rips the last of my faith straight out of my chest. A cry stealing hope and happiness.

A rage which sets fire to my blood. A chest-deep, ragged, angry, grieving, feral scream .

The front door bangs open and suddenly Tony is there, dropping to his knees in front of me. The edges of his form blur. His hands clamp around my face, and it’s only then I realize I was rocking back and forth, his hold forcing me to stop. “What happened?”

“Mace—” His name is a gut punch. I clutch at Tony’s forearms, digging my nails into his skin. “They have him, Tony.”

“Who, Cassia? What are you talking about? Someone has Mace? Where?”

“He’s—” Time suspends. My mind falls quiet, and for a moment, I lose sight of Tony as the pieces shift around in my mind, sense fighting for control in the moment of clarity. The report. The address. He’ll swim with the fishes once the deal is done.

There’s still time. He’s not gone, not yet. Panic creeps upon me, and I fight to keep it down. I force a breath, filling my lungs. He’s not gone. I know where he is.

“Cassia? Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I cannot. Will not. Lose Mace. I will fight the fucking world to get him back, because if I lose him, I’m not sure I’ll survive it. The adrenaline pouring through my veins changes directions, a hard turn toward hyper-focus, the world around me focusing beyond 20/20.

“Cassia?”

My gaze snaps to Tony’s. “I know where he is.” Releasing his arms, I stand, breathing, fighting for my life against my anxiety. There’s only so long I can stave off this panic, but it’s the only choice I have left.

Mace is in danger, and I’m going to get him back, even if I have to force my way into the land of the dead and drag him back to Earth.

“Tony, get the Range Rover.”

Orion comes out of his office with a frown on his face. “I thought you weren’t working today.”

“Change of plans.” I head straight to the printer, grab the fat stack of paperwork, then move to the supply closet, slip my key inside, and open it.

Guns. Night vision goggles. Devices to bypass various security systems. Everything you could ever need to break and enter, to sleuth.

Grabbing one of the duffel bags Orion keeps handy, I set it on the table, place the paperwork in a pocket, and shove one of everything inside, but slip the mini-taser into my front pocket. Just in case .

“What are you doing?”

Tony grunts. “I keep asking the same thing. She’s not talking. She said something about Mace missing. She was...” He trails off when I glare at him over my shoulder.

My gaze shifts to Orion. “Have you heard the name Morozov?”

His eyes widen and he steps toward me. “I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe we should?—”

“No. There’s not time to do whatever you think we should do.

” I zip up the bag, shaking my head. “I need to go to Mamma Lucia’s before Vito is finished eating.

” Mace, the stalker and tech wizard that he is, placed a tracker on Vito’s car and phone.

Right now, they’re having dinner. I need to get there, coerce Vito into helping, and get Mace back.

“Vito?” Orion and Tony trade looks.

“We need to plan,” Tony says. “We need to?— ”

“We don’t have time!” My voice is heavy with emotion, and I rear back, forcing it down, shoving everything aside.

“We should at least call Dare and Remy,” Orion suggests.

“You can, but I’m going.” I’m not going to sit here and wait. “I’m going to see Vito.” Giving Tony a pointed look, I walk over, stopping in front of him. “You’re either with me, or you’re not.”

A dozen worries play across his features, but resignation is the last. Nodding, he scrubs his hands over his face. “You’re going to go no matter what I say.”

“Yup.”

“I could force you to stay, tie you up.”

Narrowing my eyes, I take a step back, muscles tensing. “But you won’t, because you’re as worried as I am.”

Tony looks away, jaw clenching. “Mace is like a brother to me,” he admits, eyebrows drawing down. “Fuck, okay. Fuck it. Let’s go see Vito.”

“Okay.” I glance at Orion. “Call Dare and Remy. Tell Remy he knows where to go, but I can’t wait for them.”

Unease ripples over his face, but he swallows whatever lecture he has planned. “Be careful.” His voice comes out rough, full of worry I’ve never heard from him.

I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, so I simply press my lips together and turn back to Tony, lifting an eyebrow.

He sighs and heads through the office toward the Range Rover. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You and me both, buddy.