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The huge metal building loomed in front of me, looking just as daunting in the moonlight as it did in my dreams. To anyone else, it was just an old warehouse, rusted and rundown. To me, it was the epitome of malevolence and loss. The industrial gray siding was unassuming, hiding the evil that lurked inside. The things that had happened three years ago couldn’t hold a candle to the shit that would go down here tonight. Maybe it was instinct that made the hairs on the back of my neck lift in warning. Maybe it was because I had an emotional tie to the situation. Either way, the next hour would determine my future—if I would have one.
I wasn’t stupid. My chances of getting out of here were 50/50, at best. I wasn’t armed, and I had no way to protect myself other than my own two hands. Yeah, I could inflict some damage that way. But in a room full of men armed to the teeth with guns and knives, I’d be lucky to take one man out before I caught a bullet.
My heart rate increased, and I took a deep, steadying breath as I slowed to a stop about twenty yards from the entrance. I counted four of Capaldi’s soldiers as they stood guard around the outside of the building, and two approached the car as I put it in park and shut off the ignition. I kept my hands on the wheel, not making any sudden movement; I didn’t need to give them any reason to get trigger happy and kill me before I’d even made it inside.
One moved to the passenger side, the muzzle of the rifle leveled at me through the window. I kept him in my peripheral vision, focusing on the one who’d approached the driver door. I studied him, my eyes canvassing every inch. He didn’t carry a rifle like the others, but I was sure he had at least one weapon concealed on his person.
He grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. “Put your hands behind your head and step out of the vehicle—now.”
His phrasing struck a chord, and my ears perked up as I followed his command. It was almost identical to the command we used during traffic stops. Was the man ex-law enforcement? I couldn’t discount the possibility. He was big and broad, with a hardened edge to him. I knew Capaldi’s tentacles of power stretched deep into the political system. He owned half the politicians, though most of the residents didn’t have a clue.
Fingers laced together at the base of my neck, I maneuvered through the narrow opening. The man closed the car door then grabbed me and spun me around. I let out a grunt as he slammed me against the hood of the little rental car. He kicked the inside of my ankles until my legs were spread wide, then frisked me. He wasn’t going to find anything; I hadn’t even bothered to bring any weapons with me. It was a pain in the ass to get them on the plane, and I knew they would’ve just been confiscated the second I stepped onto Capaldi’s property.
Satisfied that I wasn’t hiding anything, the man grabbed me by the back of the shirt and hauled me up, then marched me toward the industrial metal door on the side of the building. I kept my chin up, my expression firmly in place as we entered the last place I ever wanted to see again. The interior was dim, lit only by a handful of dingy, ancient fluorescent bulbs that dangled precariously overhead.
The warehouse was a wide open space, undivided by walls or offices. Any machinery that had once run here had since been removed, and the man shoved me forward, through the maze of discarded pallets and crates. I forced my face into an expressionless mask as I fought to bring my heart rate under control.
Two folding chairs had been set up in the center of the room, and a man occupied one. His posture was insouciant, borderline defiant, and I immediately recognized Giuliana’s cousin Matteo. He smirked at me as the guard led me closer then slammed me down into the seat. “Nice of you to join us, Sheriff.”
The guard who’d led me inside moved away and took up position to Matteo’s left. Two other men took his place, stationed on either side of me, but I ignored them completely. Instead, I made a show of looking around. “Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here.”
My glance around the place revealed several things. There were several soldiers posted around the warehouse. I’d counted at least a dozen, though more were probably hidden in the shadows. There was no evidence of illegal contraband, which told me they’d probably ceased using this warehouse as a sort of base after the last raid. And most importantly—Jules wasn’t here. I thanked every deity known to man for that. At least she’d be out the way when all hell broke loose.
I turned my attention back to Capaldi. “Haven’t done much with the place. But I guess the war with the Russians has been taking up too much of your time and money.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed on me. “Yes, well, I expect that to change soon,” he replied.
I snorted. “Not likely.”
“Hmm...” Matteo hummed a noncommittal sound, and I affected a bored expression.
“Want to tell me why the hell you dragged me all the way out here?”
I kept my expression cold and distant, and Matteo stared at me for nearly a minute. Finally, I broke the silence and tipped my chin at him, indicating his attempt at intimidation. “Does that work for you?”
A tiny smile quirked his mouth. “I admire your confidence, Sheriff. Makes this all the more fun.”
“If you say so.” My gaze landed on the bruising around his nose and eyes. I indicated the wound with a quick jerk of my head. “Looks like you were on the receiving end of some blunt force trauma.”
His lips thinned. “Courtesy of Giuliana.”
I bit back a smile as vicious pride filled me. That’s my girl.
“No matter.” He waved a hand dismissively. “She learned her lesson.”
My gut clenched at his words, and foreboding filled me as Matteo reached inside the pocket of his immaculate black suit and withdrew a little box. It was a small square, only a few inches wide, but the sight of it filled me with dread. There was only one reason for him to present something like that—just large enough for an appendage.
Smirk still in place, he lifted his chin and tossed the box to me. “A gift from your precious fiancée.”
I caught the box deftly, and my fingers turned to stone as I tried to open it. The air felt as if it had been sucked out of the room, and I forced myself to drag in even breaths as I lifted the lid away. Tiny smudges of brown marred the paper inside, and bile rose in the back of my throat. Blood? Jesus, I prayed that wasn’t the case, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Capaldi had killed his own father; what would stop him from hurting Jules to strike out at me? I moved aside the tissue and barely held back a sigh of relief. No finger, no ear; no body parts to speak of. Thank God.
I lifted her engagement ring from the bottom of the box and held it up, then arched a brow at Matteo.
“She won’t be needing that anymore,” he replied to my unspoken question.
That still wasn’t an answer. I needed to know if she was alive and well somewhere. He already knew I’d hop on the plane at the drop of a hat for her, which explained his lack of surprise when I asked, “She’s okay?”
“Depends on your definition.” He paused and arched a brow. I ground my molars together and clenched my hands into fists where they rested on my thighs. I wanted to knock that smug look right off his face, then rip him limb from limb.
“If you’re asking if she’s alive, then the answer is yes. For now.”
The diamond cut into the skin of my palm, reminding me that it was still there, and I forced myself to relax. If Capaldi was telling the truth—and he had no reason to lie since I was already here—then I had to trust that she was still alive.
I gave a little half nod and slid the ring into my pocket, leaving my hands free. “I thought we were here to make a trade...” I let the words hang in the air for a second.
“I beg to differ,” he responded when I didn’t continue. “We never discussed a trade, per se. What are you suggesting?”
Fucker was being deliberately obtuse. “Where the hell is she?”
“She’s been... detained,” Capaldi replied, a trace of a smirk tipping up the corners of his mouth.
I inhaled deeply. I had zero illusions of what could happen tonight, but I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “Let her go.”
One dark eyebrow rose toward his hairline. “And what do I get out of it?”
I gritted my teeth. “We’ll walk out of here and pretend none of this ever happened. You’ll never see either of us again.”
Capaldi’s lips twisted into a petulant moue. “I don’t think so. You see”—he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, pinning me with his intense dark stare—“she belongs here. This is her home. Giuliana belongs with me.”
Crazy fuck. “Have you even considered what she might want?”
He let out a little laugh. “Does that matter?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “It’s the only thing that matters. You’re her cousin; you should care about her.”
Matteo’s smile disappeared in an instant. “She means everything to me.”
I blinked. For some reason, I hadn’t expected that. Maybe he truly did care about her; I tried to appeal to him one more time. “I want her happy. And we both know she’s happy with me.”
“So it would seem.” His eyes narrowed with hatred. “A life for a life. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
I hoped to hell I got to walk out of here, but I’d gladly give myself up for her if she would be safe. I spread my arms wide. “Then take me.”
“How very noble.” He sat back in his chair and eyed me. “I despise you.”
I snapped my mouth shut and lifted a brow. Was that supposed to surprise me?
He gave his head a little shake. “This is her place. She could have anything she wants—money, clothes, jewels. Yet she would rather go back to that Podunk little town with nothing. Except you.”
His lip curled, and pride sprang to my chest. It died away just as quickly as he continued. “You’re the only one she wants, the one she cries for.”
It gutted me to think that I hadn’t been here when she needed me most. “Just let her go.”
“I said I’d let her live,” he corrected as I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he spoke over me. “Though it might be a bit late for that.”
Anger surged, hot and fierce, forcing me forward in my chair. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Matteo lifted his left hand, and in a silent communication, signaled the man to his left. The soldier lifted his pistol and trained it on my forehead.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt her!” As soon as the words ripped from my throat, a loud commotion erupted behind me. I didn’t bother to look; I knew that sound all too well. The Feds had breached the entrance and were cutting through the soldiers, one by one.
I locked eyes with the man who had his gun pointed at me. All of a sudden, his arm swung to the side, and he popped off two quick rounds, dropping the soldier to my left. I was already out of my chair as the undercover agent turned his pistol on Capaldi, my hand wrapped around the forearm of the man beside me. I jerked his arm upward as his finger squeezed the trigger, and splinters of wood rained down from the wooden beam above us. Pushing down with my thumb, I put pressure on the bones of his wrist until his grip loosened and he let out a grunt of pain. Using his body as a shield, bullets whizzing through the air all around me. I took control of the gun and shot two more guards before putting a bullet in his temple.
His body hit the floor with a thud, and I whirled toward Capaldi. He was still firing rapidly at the undercover agent, but the fight was over. He’d taken several rounds to the torso, and dark maroon stains bloomed over his pristine white shirt. The agent popped off another round and Matteo jerked backward under the impact. He stumbled and fell over the chair he’d vacated just moments ago, then remained sprawled on his back, deathly still.
Taking a quick glance around, I saw that the feds had the soldiers rounded up and were busy cuffing those who were still alive. Stomping over to where Matteo lay on the ground, I kept my pistol trained on him. His Beretta lay next to him, and I kicked it out of reach. His eyes opened to narrow slits before closing again.
He was rapidly losing blood, but the fucker wasn’t dead yet. I dropped to one knee next to him. “Where is she?”
His voice was thin and thready when he spoke. “You’ll never find her. No one will.”
I used the muzzle of my pistol to press down on one of the open wounds. The man let out a ragged groan of pain, but made no attempt to fight back or speak.
“Tell me where she is, and you might get to live.” The man’s lips moved, and I lifted my gun away from the wound. “What was that?”
“In hell,” he choked out as blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.
My molars clenched together. This was clearly a wasted effort. He would rather die than tell me where she was. I stood and pointed the pistol at his forehead. “See you there.”
The man’s body jerked as the bullet hit its mark, leaving a small hole in his forehead. The back side wouldn’t be so pretty.
Agent Martinez materialized beside me, his face an angry red. “Goddamn it, Donahue. What the fuck was that?”
I stared back impassively, then turned my pistol around and extended it toward him. “I did what I had to do.”
He made an agitated gesture before propping his hands on his hips. “You get anything, at least?”
I reholstered the weapon and shook my head. “Nothing.”
He blew out a harsh breath and dropped to one knee. Yanking a pair of nitrile gloves from his coat, he slipped them on. Capaldi’s suit jacket had fallen open, and Martinez ran a hand over the inner pockets, first one side, then the other. He extracted a wallet, phone and...
“What the hell is that?” I gestured with my chin toward the object, and Martinez held up what appeared to be an old-fashioned key.
“Skeleton key.” He slid it into a clear plastic bag, then handed it to me.
I turned it over in my hands, inspecting it. “What the hell is this for?”
“Not sure.” He finished searching the body, then pushed to his feet. “But we’re damn sure gonna find out.”
He passed the evidence bags to one of the techs, then turned to address his agents. “As soon as the suspects have been transported, search the property.” He turned back to me and clamped one hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her, Sheriff. We’ve got warrants to seize his assets and search his home and business. If we have to, we’ll tear this city apart.”