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17

CARLOTTA

I ’m bouncing around in the back seat of an SUV and I have no idea where we’re headed, but I’d be willing to bet my last dollar I’ll be seeing Carmine Gallo’s ugly mug very soon. I’m more worried about Damon, though. In my head, I’ve been thanking every angel above since we left my apartment building that they didn’t turn their guns on him.

I can still picture him lying there on the floor, completely helpless and at their mercy. God, it kills me to think about what could have happened. My only agenda was getting these three thugs out of there before they decided to do something stupid. Before they decided to kill Damon.

Releasing a shaky breath, it occurs to me that I would’ve done anything to keep him safe. Even if that would’ve meant being reckless and throwing myself in front of a bullet for him. And, yes, it’s crazy because we haven’t even known each other for very long, but no matter what Damon thinks about himself, I know he’s a good man. Besides, after he rescued me, I figure I owe him one.

We drive for what feels like forever, but it is probably only twenty minutes or so. I’m beginning to grow anxious and I know escaping is going to be harder this time around because Gallo will be better prepared. Granted, I had some help last time thanks to Damon, but I have the sinking feeling I’m very much on my own this time around.

How could I not be? No one has any idea where I am, including me. That’s going to make it extremely difficult for my brothers and Damon to swoop in and save me.

So it looks like I’m going to have to save myself. I just have to be smarter than Gallo. And, truthfully, I don’t think that’s going to be that big of a challenge. The man is so power hungry that he makes mistakes right and left. Instead of being smooth and sneaky, he barrels into town with a clear and obvious agenda, provoking my family and causing problems. That makes me think he isn’t all that bright. Or he’s just so blinded by what he wants—power and control over NYC’s mafia families—that he’s tripping up and being foolhardy, brash and far too impulsive for his own good.

And that all works in my favor. The second he slips, I’m going to take immediate advantage of the situation. Whether that means securing a weapon and battling my way out or it means getting free and running, I’ll be prepared to take action.

Clenching my fists, I keep my attention on the passing scenery outside, searching for landmarks and trying to pinpoint our exact location. I don’t have my cell phone so I can’t call my brothers, but I might be able to communicate my whereabouts at some point, if I escape Gallo.

Correction—when I escape Gallo.

Stay positive, I tell myself. My family can’t let a power hungry, mad man like Carmine Gallo win. No freaking way.

And knowing my brothers like I do, I can guarantee Gallo’s days in NYC are numbered.

We left the city and drove off the expressway a little bit ago. After driving along a rural road for maybe another ten minutes, the driver turns the SUV down a dirt drive. We pass through some tall trees, the tires crunching over gravel, and a farm house comes into view. It’s large and cozy-looking with a wraparound porch. The kind of place I could picture in a Hallmark movie. Except I know better. The evil lurking inside it would never be found in a feel-good film starring Candace Cameron Bure. Nope, more like a Stephen King flick.

Just beyond the house, I catch a glimpse of a barn. I’m expecting to stop in the front driveway, but we continue around back and pull to a stop in front of the barn. It doesn’t look nearly as nice as the house in front and I start getting creepy vibes, a tingle erupting at the base of my neck.

The SUV doors open and, a second later, I’m being yanked out. My feet hit the ground with a thud and I try to dig my heels in, but it’s useless. The big thug has my arm locked in a bone-crunching hold and I have no choice except to follow along with his fast, clipped pace.

One of the other men swings the barn door open and we go inside. It’s gloomy and the smell of hay fills my nose. There’s also a musty smell permeating the air and I have a feeling there haven’t been any animals living in here for a very long time. No equipment hangs from the walls and the horse stalls are empty. Not even one chicken in sight. Although, I can’t exactly picture Carmine Gallo dressed in overalls and playing farmer. Maybe this place belongs to someone else. Seems like it’s been deserted for a while.

“We meet again.”

My head snaps over to see Gallo stroll in through a side door and he’s looking just as smug as I remember. God, I hate this guy.

“You may have escaped me once, Ms. Rossi, but I can assure you that will not be happening again.”

“We’ll see,” I say, an edge of challenge in my voice. Because if he thinks I’m just going to lay down and give in, that I’m not going to fight him every step of the way, he must be forgetting I have Rossi blood flowing through my veins.

His dark eyes narrow and I do everything to keep myself from spitting at him. How dare he think he can target and destroy my family. We’ve done nothing to provoke him.

“Take her up,” he orders.

Up? For a moment, I’m confused because I didn’t see an upstairs, but as the big thug roughly guides me toward the rear of the barn, I notice a loft. It’s pretty high, maybe twenty feet up, and I’m shoved against the ladder.

“Go,” the huge jerk orders, and I bristle. I hate being ordered around. Especially by big brutish men with no manners and who work for an asshole like Carmine Gallo.

But I have to be smart about this and play my cards right. Ideally, I’d like to lull Gallo into a false sense of security, make him think I’m just a stupid, harmless woman with no agenda. And then I’ll strike when he least expects it.

Letting out a breath, I tilt my head back and look up into the darkness. Not good. My heart starts thumping harder and I wonder why he wants me to go up into the loft. I have a feeling nothing good can come of this, but what choice do I have?

I briefly squeeze my eyes shut then force myself to grab onto a rung, step up and begin to climb. I’m not scared of heights, but once I’m on the second level, my pulse kicks up as I look over the barn below. I have a bird’s eye view of the entire first floor, and it’s awfully high and more than a little intimidating.

Stepping away from the edge, I glance around and don’t see much other than a hay-strewn floor, some bales of hay that are stacked up, and large, wooden beams crisscrossing above me.

Why am I up here? I wonder. I have no idea what he’s up to or planning, but I know it can’t be good.

As if in answer, Gallo appears, steps over the edge and sends me an evil smile. I mentally warn myself not to underestimate the man. Everything in me is screaming he’s a fool, but he’s a dangerous and possibly deranged fool, and that’s a very bad combination.

Even though I know I should be scared, I’m more pissed off than anything. Especially because he’s out to ruin the people I love most in this whole world. And that can’t happen. No way. Not on my watch.

Turning to face my kidnapper, I toss my hair over my shoulder and place my hands on my hips. “What the hell do you want from my family? We haven’t done anything to you.” I make sure my voice stays firm and strong. The last thing I want to do is show any fear because that’s like blood in the water to a shark like Gallo. If he smells my fear, he will strike and try to take me out.

“You haven’t done anything to me?” he echoes. A short, harsh laugh erupts from his throat. “That isn’t exactly true, Ms. Rossi.”

He vehemently spits my name out with such caustic hate that I nearly cringe. It’s like acid drips from his tongue and I wisely decide it’s time to tread lightly because he’s clearly harboring a huge vendetta. Maybe even bigger than I realized.

But why? There has to be more to the story than the few details that I already know.

“Your brother’s wife sicced assassins and bounty hunters on me.”

Well, tit for tat, I think, but I keep my mouth shut. If the bastard wouldn’t have put Angelo and Blake’s names on the Kill List then that wouldn’t have happened. She just managed to flip the tables on him and now he’s mad.

“Then they all descended on my mansion and a war broke out, burning it down to the ground. I barely escaped with my life.”

I stifle the urge to sigh. This isn’t new information and I wonder how much longer he’s going to cry about it. As far as I’m concerned, if this is his reason for wanting to destroy my family, it’s a piss-poor reason. Especially since he started it.

“All I wanted was a chance to sit among the mafia greats in this city. It’s what I deserve,” he seethes.

Yeah, yeah. Maybe this really is just about him wanting more power. My gut thought there might be more to it, but maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps Carmine Gallo is just a power-hungry man who wants to exert his dominance over everyone else. I suppose it’s really nothing new and happens all the time. If I had a dollar for every person who tried to topple the top players in New York City and take over, I’d have a fortune.

“It’s more than that, though,” he says in a voice so low, I almost don’t understand him. But he’s definitely caught my attention and I find myself perking up.

What in the world is he talking about?

“It’s what I’m owed,” he continues, voice full of fury, “and I will collect what is my due.”

A frown creases my brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. No one owes you anything?—”

“The Rossi’s owe me my son back!” he yells, and I flinch. Completely startled by his outburst, I take a wary step back. “It’s because of your family that he’s dead!”

He’s breathing hard, his face a mottled shade of reddish-purple, and he’s clenching and unclenching his fists. I’m not following him, but he has my full and undivided attention. The last thing I want to do is aggravate him or piss him off further, but I need to know what it is he’s talking about.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say again softly.

He sends me a glare that should make me tremble. But, honestly, I’m more curious than scared or intimidated.

“Of course, you don’t! Carlotta Rossi has no idea what’s going on, does she? She’s just the sweet, innocent little sister who doesn’t get too involved in her family’s business affairs. Poor, clueless Lottie,” he sneers, taking a step closer.

I hold my ground, but do a quick sweep for a weapon, searching for anything I could grab and use against him. Only one of the thugs is up here with us, so it might be possible to take him or Gallo down. Unfortunately, I don’t see anything useful.

“It’s so much easier that way, isn’t it? Not knowing? It lets you sleep in your big bed every night with no guilt or regrets, huh? Well, wake the fuck up, little girl! Because your family is nothing but a bunch of murdering, money-grubbing assholes! And they will pay—they all will…starting with you.”

“Wait!” I hold up a hand when he lurches forward. “If you tell me what happened, maybe I can help you. Maybe we can fix whatever the problem is and?—”

“You can’t fix dead,” he states flatly. “And your family killed my boy.”

My eyes widen. I did not expect him to say that. “What are you talking about?”

I do my best to sound concerned, sympathetic even.

But he doesn’t answer my question and, instead, he motions to his thug. “Help me. Grab the rope.”

Without hesitation, the big guy retrieves a coil of rope from the dim corner of the loft. He tosses it up and over one of the big wooden beams and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. This doesn’t look good and I turn around, trying to figure out how I can escape this mess.

A hand tightens around my arm and yanks me forward. “No, you’re not going anywhere,” Gallo says. “Give me the rope. And hold her.”

Shit. While his henchman holds me tightly in his iron grip, Gallo tosses the rope around my neck. A noose. Oh, my God. Panic flares up inside me and I struggle, trying to break free, but then the rope is pulled tighter and I freeze as I’m pulled up onto my toes.

No, no, no. I don’t want to die like this. My mind turns to Damon and all the things I never had a chance to say to him. The idea of never being able to kiss him or touch him again makes me want to cry and scream and lash out. But I can barely move.

“Let me tell you a little story,” Gallo says in a low voice, moving closer. Until we’re eye to eye. “I used to have a son your age. He would’ve been twenty-five this month, actually. But now he’s six-feet under, thanks to your family.”

The rope is cutting into my throat, making it hard to breathe, and I don’t dare try to talk. I can barely move my head. My eyes can move, but my neck is securely bound, forced to face forward. Drawing in a ragged breath, all I can do is wait for Gallo to continue.

“Maximo, my son, worked for a company that ran into some hard times. He owed a lot of people money and became worried. People come after you in this town…when you owe them enough money. But the owner told him everything would be fine—that the Rossi family was going to acquire and save his floundering company. Everything had been set up, and the paperwork was ready to be signed.”

His story is starting to sound very familiar all too fast. But I’m still not sure how he can blame my family if the deal didn’t go through. Because I have a pretty good feeling this is connected to Holloway Corp. and Enzo and Gabriella.

A moment later, Gallo confirms my suspicions.

“When Enzo abruptly backed out of the deal, it was up to Gabriella Bianche to help. After all, she was the one who’d originally expressed interest in buying the company. And then she backed out for no apparent reason.”

That’s not true, I think. Both Enzo and Gabriella decided against acquiring Doug Holloway’s company because he turned out to be a liar and a pig. He’d pitted them against each other and played games with their heads. And their hearts. Luckily, they’d discovered who Holloway really was and they’d both rescinded their initial offers to obtain his failing company.

“It’s not up to my family to save every struggling business,” I tell him. “If Holloway mismanaged funds, how is that our fault?”

“Because they could’ve saved it which in turn would’ve saved my son!” he practically screams at me.

I flinch and his face is right in front of mine. I’ve never seen someone so full of rage and hate. It’s oozing off of him in clumps.

“I’m sorry if your son had to find a new job?—”

“He didn’t find a new job! He left a note saying he was a failure and couldn’t pay off his debts. Then he threw himself off the nearest bridge.”

Oh, God.

“So instead of hiding or waiting to be killed because he owed the wrong people money—or asking me for help because he didn’t want to be a burden—he ended his life.”

It takes me a few seconds to soak in what he’s saying—the significance of losing a child, why he blames my family and what that currently means for me at this moment.

Nothing good.

“I’m sorry about your son,” I say quietly, and I truly am. “But I can guarantee Enzo and Gabriella had no idea or they would’ve helped.”

But it’s like he doesn’t even hear me. Or doesn’t want to.

“Now you see why I have to destroy your family,” he says. “Because the Rossi’s are the reason my son is dead.”

Talk about faulty logic. I understand the connection he’s making, but what happened was a tragedy and shouldn’t solely land on my family’s shoulders. Because I know for an absolute fact that if Enzo and Gabriella knew Gallo’s son was that desperate, they could have and would have helped him find a new job elsewhere.

But Gallo clearly believes that my family is responsible for his son’s death and I don’t think there’s any way to make him see the truth or be logical. His emotions are ruling his decisions right now. He only sees what he wants to see—that we’re one-hundred percent at fault for what happened.

“I’m going to eliminate every last one of you and then take your place as part of the ruling Five Families. And then I’m going to bring the whole table down. After all, Gabriella was a Bianche, so they need to go, too.”

I think Gallo has officially lost his mind.

“So let’s send your brothers a little video, shall we?” There’s a taunting tone to his voice that sets my nerves on edge and puts fear in my heart. I have no idea what he’s planning and I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to know either.

Unable to move, I squeeze my eyes, praying to wake up from this nightmare. When I open them again, I see him pull out his phone. My heart thunders and I immediately try to shake my head, but I can’t because of the rope around my neck. I don’t want my brothers or Damon to see me like this. They’re going to flip out.

“Why?” I croak. “What’s the point?”

If he’s going to kill me, the last thing I want him to do is film it. Feeling sick to my stomach, I whimper, unable to move. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. If this is it, if I’m going to die, I don’t want him to send a horrible video of my death to my family. It would devastate them.

Unfortunately, I have no say or control over the situation. When Gallo hits record, I do my best not to cry. And I fail miserably.