CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“What do you want to do?”
“WHERE IS SHE?” I growl through clenched teeth, white-knuckling the phone at my ear.
Stefano’s cavalier voice travels through the connection. “Curled up on the couch across from me in a hot Chanel number. I think she is pretending to be asleep so she doesn’t have to deal with me. Her toes are wiggling, though. Such pretty toes. Do you lick them, cousin?”
Always with the bullshit. I can almost smell the stench of smug on his breath. “Let me talk to her.”
“This a hostage situation, Trenton, not a babysitting gig. You can’t just call and ask to talk to your baby and I’ll hand over the phone.”
“The day I start murdering people,” I grit out, “you’re gonna be the first on my list, motherfucker.”
He laughs, and it’s drenched in hubris. “I will already have died a thousand deaths by the time you ‘perfect’ half-breed Garzas dare to cross over to the dark side.”
I hang up and resist the urge to smash my phone through the windshield.
We’ve just touched down in Montana, following a trail on Alvin Matthews. A background check was done on “Ellie Harper” months ago after her little stunt with Lexi in Vegas, so I’d already known she’s not who claims.
Her real name is Millicent Davis. Grew up in the system and has been on the run ever since she set her foster home on fire with her foster siblings inside, which left them all with severe burns and at least two of them disfigured. Dated a drug dealer for a while who got her fake identification and documents—Ellie Harper—before she ripped him off a couple hundred thousand dollars and went on the run again.
Knowing all that, we’ve deemed any trail on her unreliable and indubitably deliberate to mislead. She’s a woman who’s been running all her life; she knows how to hide.
We’re trailing crumbs on Alvin Matthews instead. Tickets to Montana…car rental…hotel…
True and I are about twelve minutes out from the airport we just left when my phone rings.
Guy calling…
Good thing I didn’t smash the damn thing. “Yeah.”
“Hey, boss. I’ve been hacking airport surveillances like you asked, and I think I’ve found them.”
I motion for True to pull over. “Not in Montana?”
“No, boss.”
“Where?” I growl, running low on patience. “Spit it out, Guy.”
“They just arrived in Turks and Caicos.”
Oh, that bitch is good. Real good. Cunning. Giving us a real run. But she won’t win.
I rub my hand down my face and blow out a breath.
“What is it?” True asks, jerking up the handbrake.
“They’re not here.”
“In Montana?”
“The U.S.”
“Fuck.”
Fuck is right. To extract them from non-US soil will be a lot trickier and requires careful planning. No biggie. It’s what we do.
But time.
What this means for me is more time without my woman. More time she’ll be held under the Castellos’ thumb. More time she’ll spend afraid, not knowing what to expect.
Stefano won’t lay a finger on her. He’s not an idiot. But she doesn’t know that. All those things he said on the phone to me was for her benefit, to scare the shit out of her. It’s why he’s refusing to let me speak to her, so I can’t reassure her.
I expel another exhausted breath. I fucking hate feeling out of control with her.
There are a number of different strings I could pull to strong-arm Stefano into handing her over without doing a damn thing to get his cash back. But as Torin reminded me last night, every action comes with a ripple effect. And to be honest, at this point in my life, when I’m so damn close to getting everything I’ve always wanted, ripple effects with the Castellos aren’t things I want to have to deal with. I just want to be with Alexa Flores, my dream girl, start a family with her. Not fight a war.
So as much of a pain in the ass that this hunt is turning out to be, and as excruciating as it is to not be able to see her, touch her, kiss her, assure her that it will all be okay, this is the safest and easiest route to getting her back.
“Boss?” Guy prompts. “What do you want to do?”
I glance over at True and shrug. “I guess we’re going to Turks and Caicos.”