Page 62 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

“Have you heard back from our source at the precinct?” I ask as I check my guns.

“Yup.” Nino nods as he makes a right turn. “No John Does matching Riggo’s description have turned up in the past seventy-two hours. So, there’s a chance the boy is still alive.”

My jaw muscles clench. That chance is slim at best. But whether Riggo is alive or not, Katrakis is a dead man.

He signed his own death warrant the instant he laid a hand on a Cosa Nostra member.

Now, I don’t even need to worry about pissing off Ajello by going after the Greek stronzo.

Breaking his spine will be entirely justified.

We round another corner and turn into the parking lot of a local shipping and distribution company.

There’s a hive of activity, with plenty of delivery trucks constantly on the move.

That should prove handy for masking our approach.

And we can get close to Katrakis’s building, which backs up to the shipping company’s warehouse.

Thank fuck for Nino’s maniacal attention when it comes to security protocols.

If he didn’t have that secondary tracker installed on Riggo’s car, it would have taken us much longer to narrow down this location.

“I still think we should wait for nightfall.” Nino pulls the car to a stop. “Going in guns blazing at this hour is too risky. Too many eyes around, and we don’t know how many guys Katrakis has inside.”

“We’ve already lost too much time gathering our men. And it’ll be dark soon enough. Besides, all these trucks give us plenty of cover, and the traffic noise from the Belt and the airport should drown out any gunshots.”

Six more vehicles have been tucked in among the parked semis by the time I step out of the car.

The sound of multiple car doors being shut gets drowned out by the cacophonous activity in the distance.

I scrutinize the determined faces of nearly two dozen of our heavily armed men.

If the full force of the Greek Syndicate is inside the storage complex, we’ll be seriously outgunned.

But that doesn’t matter. We’ve been doing this for a long time.

“Remember, Katrakis is mine.”

The men nod in understanding. Prior to coming over here, we went over every detail of our plan of attack. Everybody knows their role and position.

I take out both of my guns and head across the properties’ divide.

***

Something doesn’t add up.

I crouch next to the body lying face down on the concrete floor and flip him over. My bullet caught the bastard just above his left eye.

“Look familiar?” Nino asks next to me.

“Nope.” I brace my elbows on my knees, looking up and down the long, narrow corridor flanked by endless metal doors to self-storage lockers. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah. I expected greater resistance.”

The front office, which we hit first, certainly showed evidence that a lot more men had recently been here.

There was a pile of still-greasy pizza boxes and empty cans of beer littered around the room.

Ashtrays overflowed with half-finished cigarettes, and smoke still hung in the air.

All indications of a small army on the premises.

However, aside from the two security guards Pietro’s team took care of at the front entrance and the one at the rear door that Nino dropped, we encountered fewer than a handful of guys along the corridors.

Counting my dead buddy here, the total is actually six.

I checked out each one of them, and none were old Katrakis.

His inept bodyguard from the night they paid a visit to the construction site isn’t among the dead, either.

“Any sign of Riggo?” I ask.

“His car was found behind one of the freestanding units, but there’s no sign of him. Pietro took half our guys to the far end of the building. They’re doing a sweep of every storage locker.”

I glance down the long hallway to where our men are forcing open the metal doors. Some are using bolt cutters or drills they must have found in the office to break the locks, while others have opted to simply shoot out the things.

“You take the left side.” I straighten and aim at the lock on the nearest unit on my right, sending the bullet flying.

Antique furniture. Boxes of crap covered in mold.

Awful-smelling racks of ratty clothes. Every unit I open, I hold my breath, dreading and hoping to find Riggo.

More often than not, the boy has been a pain in the ass, but I’ve got kind of a soft spot for him.

His being here raises many questions. Some potential answers I refuse to entertain.

My guess is Riggo was tailing Katrakis and got made.

He was brought here to face the old man.

But why risk holding a captive Cosa Nostra member?

Why risk retribution for a fairly insignificant kid?

Tobias Katrakis must be losing his touch.

“Nino?” I shout as I pull up yet another overhead door.

“Still nothing.” His voice carries over the sound of the scraping metal. “I sent Pietro to check the outer buildings. Maybe they dumped— Jesus fuck! ”

I spin around, catching Nino ducking under the half-opened door into a locker at the far end of the hallway.

“In here!”

When I reach the unit, the putrid stench of piss and blood hits me right in the face. The overhead bulb in the cramped space is out, but there’s enough light spilling in from the corridor to illuminate the curled-up body on the dirty floor.

“They roughed him up pretty good,” Nino barks into the phone pressed to his ear. His other hand is feeling the side of Riggo’s neck. “Pulse is weak, but it’s there. The kid is unconscious. We need to get him to the clinic, stat.”

Crouching next to Riggo, I start checking him for other injuries while Nino gives Ilaria the rundown.

The black-and-blue mess of the boy’s face tells me that he sustained multiple blows to the head.

Both of his eyes are swollen shut, and there are lacerations around his mouth and eyebrows.

He’s not wearing a shirt, and the expanse of his torso, especially his stomach and chest, is covered in more bruises.

No bullet wounds, though, but there’s definitely internal bleeding.

He’s also missing his right thumb. The bastards have beaten, tortured, and left the boy for dead.

“We’re taking him in?” I ask.

“Yeah. Ilaria is on her way there. She says we can’t wait for the ambulance to arrive.”

Riggo doesn’t react when I grab under his arms and Nino picks up his legs. We’re nearly out of the building, on our way toward the car Pietro brought over to the rear entrance, when the kid starts to stir, groaning in pain.

“We’ve got you,” I soothe. “You’re safe, Riggo.”

“Mr. DeVille?” he rasps.

“Yeah. Take it easy, we’ll have you at the doc’s soon. Don’t talk.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry… Mr. DeVille.” The faint words trickle out of him. “The… the ring…”

Pietro holds the car door open as Nino and I gently lay Riggo on the back seat. “Now’s not the best time to discuss jewelry, buddy.”

His thumbless hand wraps around my wrist in a viselike grip; the force behind that hold is a helluva lot stronger than I would have expected from someone in his condition.

“They found it,” he chokes out. “Stavros’s ring. In my trunk. It must have fallen off when I… moved him. They… they wanted to know… how… how it got there.”

I close my eyes. Shit.

“I didn’t want to, Mr. DeVille, but… I think I told them… everything.”

“It’s okay, Riggo.” I pat his hand. Nothing’s changed. I just know that now Katrakis is gunning for me while I’m trying to find his ass so I can kill him. “You can let go of my wrist, and we’ll take you to the clinic.”

“They wouldn’t… wouldn’t hurt Miss Tara, would they?”

My blood suddenly runs cold. “What?”

“She killed the Greek heir. I… I told them I heard you say it…”

Terror, unlike anything I’ve ever known, engulfs me as I lean down, trying to catch every one of his words. Riggo’s breaths are labored, and each uttered sound gets fainter and fainter.

“They all… they all went…”

“Where?” I shout, shaking his shoulders, trying to keep him awake. “Where did they go?”

“House… they went… to your home.”

“I’m not in the mood for a movie tonight, Sienna.

Maybe I can come over tomorrow?” I lodge the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can keep my hands free.

“And anyway, Riggo is nowhere to be found, and I’m pretty sure there’s no way I’ll convince Tony to drive me over.

He knows I’m under ‘lock and key’ as per His Highness’s orders. ”

“You really should have bought a car, not a chopper,” Sienna giggles. “And I’m on lockdown, too. Drago has gone nuts. He’s been mobilizing his men, planning an attack on the Greeks since six this morning.”

I hold the small hinged part of a metal hasp to the door panel and reach for the drill. “I knew he would. Those Spanish floor tiles were limited edition. He won’t be able to get a replacement for them.”

“It’s not about the— Tara? You there? What’s that noise?”

“I’m installing a lock!” I yell over the sound of the drill.

“What?”

“I found it in the storage room and—” A huge chunk breaks off the wooden surface. “Oops.”

“Tara? What the fuck are you doing?”

I sigh and turn off the power tool. Leaning against the other side of the doorway, I slide down to the floor, stretching my feet before me. “I’m installing a padlock on the doors connecting my room to your brother’s. Or trying to, at least.”

“And you’re doing that because…?”

“To make sure Arturo won’t end up in my bed tonight. Or I in his. Take your pick.”

“Because…?”

“Because then we’d fuck like rabbits. He’d make me feel like I’ve blasted off this earth. And after, I’d fall asleep in his arms and have the best goddamned sleep of my life.”

“And that’s… bad?”

“Very bad.” I nod even though she can’t see me.

“Um… why?”

“Oh my God! Will you stop?”

“As soon as you explain why sleeping with your husband and feeling good about it is bad .”