Page 60 of Wicked Sinner

CAESAR

The warehouse district near the docks stretches out before us in an ominous outline of lapping water and metal buildings, Miami lighting up around us as the night falls.

My hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel as I navigate the narrow streets, following the coordinates our hacker sent over.

Every second that passes is another second Bridget is in danger, another second she's afraid.

Another second I might lose her and our child forever.

"Turn left here," Tristan says from the passenger seat, his own tension radiating through the confined space of the car.

Four vehicles follow behind us—my men and his, armed and ready to do whatever is necessary to get my wife back.

"The coordinates for the license plate they tracked here are two buildings up. "

This is a trap. I know it is. It was too easy to find her, too easy to figure out where she’d gone. Like a trail of crumbs was left for me. But I’m hoping that whoever it is that took her isn’t ready for the fight I’m going to put up.

Part of me still can't believe Tristan is here, helping me. Just hours ago I was sure he was the reason that all of this was happening. Now he's the only reason I have enough firepower to feel confident I can get my wife back alive.

"There." He points to a black SUV parked between two warehouses, its windows tinted dark. "That's the vehicle from the street cameras."

I slam on the brakes, and we're out of the car before it fully stops.

My men pour out of the following vehicles, checking weapons and spreading out in formation.

Tristan's crew does the same, and for a moment, I'm struck by how seamlessly they work together despite the bad blood between us. They’re all professionals, ready to do battle.

"The SUV is just out in the open," I observe, my voice low as we approach the abandoned vehicle. "They're not trying to hide it."

"Because they want you to find it," Tristan replies grimly. "This is a trap, Caesar. They're counting on you coming in here blind with rage."

"Then they're going to get exactly what they want." I check my weapon, chambering a round. "Because I am blind with rage, and I don't give a fuck if it's a trap."

Tristan grabs my arm. "Listen to me. If you go in there thinking with your dick instead of your head, you're going to get her killed. And probably us too."

I jerk away from him, fury blazing through my veins.

"Don't fucking touch me, and don't pretend you care what happens to her. It’s not my dick I’m thinking with.

" It’s something else, a part of me that I never gave much thought to before I met Bridget, but I can only imagine how Tristan would scoff if I said I was thinking with my heart.

"I don't." His eyes are cold and calculating. "But I care that you seem to think I’m petty enough to try to kill your wife because I could have had your fortune. And I intend to prove otherwise—that I can be an ally to you, if you prove to me you’ve earned it.”

He's right, and I hate him for it. This is a moment where I could gain Tristan’s alliance as well as Bridget’s safety—where I can prove to him that this is more than just my obsession with a woman I had a one-night stand with.

I force myself to take a breath, to think strategically instead of emotionally.

But every instinct I have is screaming at me to tear this place apart with my bare hands until I find her.

"So what do you suggest?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"We scout the area first. Find out which building they're in, how many men they have, what kind of firepower we're dealing with." He pulls out his phone, showing me a satellite image of the warehouse complex. "There are three buildings nearby. They could be in any of them."

One of my men jogs up to us. "Boss, we found boot marks on the pavement near the SUV. Like they were struggling with someone.”

My vision goes red for a moment. If they've hurt her, if they've laid a finger on her or our baby, I'll make sure they die slowly. Very fucking slowly.

"More scuff marks going toward that building," he continues, pointing to a massive warehouse with high-up broken windows and rust stains down its walls. "And there's fresh tire tracks leading to the loading dock on the far side."

"That's our target." I start walking in that direction, not caring about stealth or strategy anymore. The thought of Bridget, scared, possibly hurt, is driving every other consideration out of my head.

"Caesar, wait." Tristan falls into step beside me. "We need a plan."

"Here's the plan: we go in, we kill everyone who isn't my wife, and we get her out." I’m speaking through my teeth, feeling as if I’m vibrating from the inside out.

"That's not a plan, that's suicide."

I stop walking and turn to face him, letting him see the full weight of my fury. "Then stay here. I don't need you."

"Yeah, you do." He doesn't back down from my stare. "Because whoever took her knew exactly how to get to you. This isn't some random grab—it's planned. Professional. And if you walk in there without backup, you're playing right into their hands."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. It’s an unknown number.

"Answer it," Tristan says quietly. "Put it on speaker."

I swipe to accept the call. "What?"

"Ah, Caesar Genovese." The voice is heavily accented—it sounds Russian. "I was wondering when you would call."

"Who the fuck is this?" I hiss through my teeth.

"My name is Matvey Slakov. I believe I have something that belongs to you."

Fuck. It was him. Alek Slakov’s son, a fucking loose end that Konstantin’s men never managed to tie up. My teeth grind together as I stare at the buildings in front of me.

“I want my wife back,” I growl, motioning for my men to spread out and start approaching the warehouse from multiple angles.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible.” There’s something that almost sounds like a smile in Matvey’s voice.

“You see, Caesar, I was left with nothing when our fathers failed at their task. I think you can understand this feeling, somewhat. After all, your father wanted to leave you with nothing too. But you managed to make a nice life for yourself. A decent living. You have assets in your name, da? I was given nothing. I kept nothing. And you have been a thorn in Konstantin’s side.

I think he will appreciate me ridding him of you and your irritating wife.

And then, I will take what was yours, and do better than our fathers did. ”

"Your father was a piece of shit who got what he deserved,” I hiss. “A conniving climber, just like you are. But you’re not going to get away with this, Slakov. And I’m fucking tired as shit of men thinking they have a right to what I should inherit.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flicker of amusement on Tristan’s face, before it turns back to cold focus.

Matvey laughs, the sound sharp and unpleasant. "We will see. I have an offer for you, Caesar."

"If you’ve laid so much as a finger on my wife—"

"She is unharmed. For now. But that could change very quickly if you do not listen carefully to what I am about to tell you."

I catch Tristan's eye and nod toward the warehouse. He signals his men to move into position around the building while I keep Matvey talking.

"I'm listening."

"Good. Here is what will happen. You will come to the warehouse, alone and unarmed. You will be given a chance to speak to your wife, before I put you on your knees and put an end to your pretense of being worthy of inheritance. And then, if you obey and let me have what I want, I will let her go."

My jaw tightens. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I’ll give my sniper the signal, and you are dead. She will be too, as soon as your death is confirmed."

The line goes dead.

For a moment, I can't breathe. The thought of losing Bridget, of losing our child before they’re even born, is like a knife twisting in my chest. But then the fear transforms into something colder, sharper, a lethal fury that sets me on edge and makes me want blood.

"We were right—that’s the warehouse," I tell Tristan. "He wants me to come alone."

"Obviously you're not going to do that."

"Obviously." I check my weapons again. "But I am going in first."

"Caesar—"

"No arguments. He's expecting me. If I don't show up, he might panic and hurt her. But if I can get inside, distract him, maybe you can get your men in position to take out his security."

Tristan studies me for a long moment, his head tilted to one side as if he’s seeing something I’m not. "You really love her, don't you?"

The question catches me off guard. "What?"

"Your wife. You love her. You're willing to die for her. I can see it in your eyes." He snorts. “I’ve had the same stupid reaction. And look where I am. In love with a woman who tried to kill me once. I only sleep well at night because I know better than to ever think I’m really in charge when it comes to her, ever again.”

I draw in a slow breath. "She's carrying my heir."

"Bullshit." He shakes his head. "I've seen you refuse to be told what to do. I’ve seen you buck against anyone who gives you orders. But right now, you're ready to walk into a death trap for this woman. That's not about an heir. That's about love."

He’s right, but he’s sure as hell not going to be the first one I say it out loud to. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Yeah, I'm going to help you." He checks his own weapon. "Because if Slakov thinks he can inherit all your shit and take over the Genovese spot in Miami, he needs a fucking wake-up call.”

We move toward the maze of warehouses, using shipping containers and abandoned equipment for cover for Tristan and our men.

The night helps to cover our approach, the darkness thick and unrelenting except in the small pools of light from the dock lamps, but I know Slakov has to have men watching for us.