CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Hand it is.”
“LEXI.”
I’m being shaken awake. But I don’t want to wake up. He never sleeps for more than a few hours and I’m tired. So tired. Why can’t this man ever just rest?
“Lexi, darling.”
With a whiny grumble, I open my eyes. Stefano is bent before me by the side of the bed. He’s wearing the same white tee and lounge pants he’d changed into before we came to sleep. Not dressed to go in a suit like he normally is whenever he wakes me.
He turns his face from side to side, his lips tipping down at the corners. “Which side do you think is my good side?” he asks me. “I have always thought it was my right side…but now I’m not so sure.”
Yawning, I push up on my elbows. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m certain your boyfriend will punch me at some point, and I want to make sure he doesn’t catch my good side.”
“What?”
Sometimes talking to this man is like reading a popup book, no joke. A quick glance at the bedside clock tells me it’s 3:16 a.m. Not an unusual time for him to drag me down to BLACK GOLD—if we weren’t already there. The man has no concept of time. He just does whatever, whenever.
“Right or left?” he prompts.
I roll my eyes. “Left.”
“Hmm,” he hums as he straightens, eying me with distrust. “Right it is.”
He disappears into his walk-in closet then reappears with an LV duffel and throws it at me. “Up. Pack. Cousin dearest is on the way.”
I jackknife up, my heart hammering in my chest. “Trent? He’s coming?”
Stefano throws a glance at me over his shoulder. “Oh, ye of little faith. Did I not tell you he would come through for us?”
Out of nowhere, I burst into tears. Up until this moment, I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d wound myself with a triple-braided cord of hope, fear, and resignation.
Up. Pack. Cousin dearest is on the way.
Eight little words and it feels as if a wrecking ball has been rolled off of my chest. Irrepressible tears spill from me like burst pipes.
Stefano jerks around and scowls. “Oh, come on now. You have made it this far without bawling and crawling. Don’t ruin your street cred with me now. Save the waterworks for the journey home.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, then clamber out of bed and pad to the bathroom.
He’s right. Though I’ve feared in secret and silence, I’ve done my best to put on a brave face around him and his men. Now is not the time to break down. Trent’s imminent arrival doesn’t mean I’m in the clear. If there’s anything the last five days with Stefano Castello has taught me, it’s that he cannot be trusted. I’m going to need a clear head for this exchange, make sure to keep my focus on him at all times.
So, I freshen up at the vanity and slip on the face of fake courage I’ve been wearing the past few days.
When I return to the room, Stefano isn’t there. I stare at the duffel bag. Pack, he’d said. As if I’ve been here on vacation or something. But, by now, I’d like to believe I know him and his warped brain just a teensy, tiny bit; if I leave behind all the expensive garbs and jewelry he bought me, he’ll interpret it as an insult. So I pack them all, but get dressed in the blouse and jeans I was wearing when I got nabbed.
When I trek downstairs, I notice suited men stationed in a corner of the house, armed and stoic.
On this floor, there’s a wall of French doors that open into a large and luxurious indoor pool area. That’s where I find Stefano and Lorenzo talking in hushed tones, while Stefano attaches a silencer to his gun.
Apprehension and anxiety stab at me again. What the hell are they up to?
Stefano catches sight of me, and the trepidation must be emblazoned on me because his hard expression softens a smidge. He gives me a single, sharp shake of his head, and somehow I understand what it means. Not for you.
If not for me, then who? Ellie? Slim? Trent?
Dear Savior, I’m begging you, please don’t let anyone die tonight.
For the next several minutes, I pace restlessly in the living room.
Soon, a phone call comes in.
A curt conversation is had.
Looks and gestures are exchanged.
Stances shift.
He’s here.
“Here, Lexi.” Stefano beckons me to the poolside where he and Lorenzo are standing. When I reluctantly amble over, lingering at a distance, he takes me by my upper arm and positions me, so I’m sandwiched between them both.
Lorenzo looks down at me and a sliver of warmth sneaks through his perennial go-fuck-yourself glare. As mean and rude as he is with others, he’s always a little…kinder to me.
Stefano holds his phone up to show me the security feed of his front yard. Two familiar jeeps brake haphazardly in front of the house and bodies pile out. I recognize all except one. Trent, True, Tripp, Ellie, Alvin, and a huge, muscle-bound man with long dark hair.
My heart hiccups at the sight of Trent. Dios, how I miss him.
“Three Garzas,” Stefano mutters. “You must be a family favorite.”
And if Torin was on U.S. soil, I have no doubt he’d be here, too. Even though I’m not blood, the Garzas never leave the people they care about behind. And I’m so damn grateful for them in this moment. They showed up for me.
Stefano’s home is huge, so it takes a minute or two before a chorus of footfalls is heard in the main area, and seconds later before the group, led by one of the suited men, comes into view.
Trent, Tripp, True, and the huge muscle-bound man, in their all-black getup with holsters and “RCI” branded bulletproof vests, look like the freaking FBI. I might’ve known about Red Cage, but I’ve never seen them—the Garzas—like this before. Looking so…badass.
My heart is skipping far too many beats to be normal, so I inhale a deep breath and exhale on ten slow counts.
Once the group is in front of us, Trent’s hardened eyes come straight to me. Jaw locked tight, he scans me up and down. And it takes everything in me to not run and throw myself at him. But the Castello twins positioned me between them for a reason, to maintain control. If I move a foot before I’m told, there’d be consequences.
When Trent gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head, I know I’m making the right decision to stay put.
A whimper draws my attention to Ellie. Pale and reddened with fear, her hands handcuffed in front of her, her mouth duct taped.
Rage and indignation override my anxiety, my hands ball into fists at my side. Now I’m fighting the urge to move for an entirely different reason.
“You want to punch her, don’t you?” Lorenzo’s voice is rough and scratchy at my ear.
“So. Bad,” I grit out.
His chuckle at this is dark and chilling.
Five days. Five days of utter mental torment because of this dumb, gluttonous bitch. She never listens and she never fucking learns. Now look. Look where she’s gotten us. How is she even going to get herself out of this one? There’s no way on earth I’m going to be able to talk Trent into saving her again considering he wasn’t a fan of her from the get-go.
The backstabbing twat can’t even look at me. Her red, swollen eyes are trained on Lorenzo, wide and full of terror. Lorenzo does have that horror-inducing effect on people, so I can imagine the dread running through her.
But I can’t find it in me to feel sorry for her. Who I do feel bad for is the skinny, awkward man beside her with a crack on his thick-rimmed glasses. Poor Alvin is as white as a ghost, fear etched in every crease and crinkle of his face. Only God can tell me Ellie didn’t coax him into this.
Trent throws a large bag at our feet.
“Is it all there?” Stefano asks.
Trent nods once. “We replaced what was spent.”
As Stefano opens his mouth to speak, Trent adds, “And don’t even try to pull that interest bullshit. We went all the way to Turks and Caicos to drag these two back here. You owe me for that shit.”
“Yes, and my payment is your bodacious Latina girlfr—”
“Non fottermi, Stefano,” Trent grits out in Italian, taking a threatening step forward.
“Alright, alright. No interest,” Stefano drawls with a hint of humor. He sure is having a blast with having one up on the Garzas. “Tripp, Trueman,” he says in acknowledgment of his cousins. “I’m sorry our gathering this time is on such an intense note. But you know how I am about my money. Now back up, please.”
I’m gazing at Trent while Stefano talks, so I don’t see it coming. I only hear a soft vhhoot and blood splatters across Trent’s face. In stricken horror, I watch as his body jerks away and Ellie’s lifeless one hits the floor, a reddened hole in the middle of her forehead.
“There. Now no one can beg for her life,” Stefano says casually. “Fool me once, stupido me. Fool me twice… You all know how it goes.”
“For fuck’s sake, man,” Tripp curses, wiping blood splatters from his face.
“I did tell you to back up, didn’t I?” Stefano retorts.
“You’re despicable,” True mutters as he gets out a kerchief from his back pocket to clean the splatters of blood off himself as well.
I’m still gaping in shock at Ellie’s lifeless body when Stefano nudges me and points to Alvin. The front of Alvin’s khaki slacks is soaked.
“That is what happens when you mix fear with an empty stomach,” Stefano tells me. “They should have at least given him a finger of whiskey.”
“P-p-please don’t k-kill him,” I beg, struggling to formulate words around the shock. “He’s worked for Slim for years and has always been loyal. I’m positive Ellie talked him into it.”
Stefano cocks his head to the side and hides his gun from view by crossing his hands behind his back. “What do you suggest I do with him then?”
“Maybe s-send him back to Slim. Let Slim p-punish him.”
Stefano grins, but it’s one of his fake, deceptive grins that I’ve seen him give to people when he knows they are playing him. “You are only suggesting that because you know Slim is a pussy who would not harm a fly. He stole my money, so I have to punish him.”
Both his voice and his eyes grow cold on me, and it’s like he’s transformed into Lorenzo. I’ve never seen him look so mean and vicious before. And I know…I know this is the real him. I tried to play him, and he’s pissed at me for it.
“He used his hand to steal from me, and according to you, his cock made him do it. So, sweet Lexi, since you are the only one here begging for his life, I am going to allow you to decide which one I cut off. His hand or his cock?”
Swallowing past the giant lump in my throat, I look to Trent, search his face for help. But he gives me nothing. He just looks impatient and angry. Does he not care about this man’s life?
I sweep my gaze to True and Tripp, hoping for something from them, but they both just look bored and annoyed, as though they have places to be and I’m holding them up.
The long-haired, muscle-bound man is leaning against a column with his eyes closed and the same bored expression as everyone else.
Feeling helpless, I return my gaze to Alvin. He’s covered in cold sweat, shoulders shaking, eyes pleading with me, his duct taped mouth preventing him from begging for his own life.
Stefano’s hand whips up, gun aimed at Alvin’s head. “Talk fast, Lexi, or he gets the next bullet.”
I open my mouth to say hand, the “Ha—” leaving me on a short breath. But then, remembering who I’m dealing with, I switch at last second and say, “His cock.”
Stefano narrows his gaze at me, as if pissed that I’ve just bested him. “Well done,” he grounds out. “Hand it is.”
He jerks a nod to his suits and two of them come forward and haul Alvin away.
“You’ve kept her around you for too long,” Lorenzo comments with faint humor. “She’s learned how to win with you.”
“That she has,” Stefano mumbles grumpily.
Trent strides over and pulls me to him. Even in the midst of this horror show, his touch still manages to give me flutters.
He looks to Lorenzo and asks, “Dealt with Slim for me?”
Lorenzo nods. “Reparation’s already wired to her account.”
What? Slim? Is the “her” in this exchange me?
Stefano frowns. “I’m assuming this is about Lexi getting hit? Why was I not in on this ‘reparation’ deal? How much did he pay? I think I deserve a cut—”
“FUCK OFF, Stefano,” all three Garza men plus Lorenzo bark at him.
“Okay, okay, I get it. None for me,” he grouches, holding his hands up. The man even has the gall to pout. “Nice doing business with you again, Trenton.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Trent spits. He turns with me and starts to walk off, then makes a sharp pivot, jerks forward, and freaking head-butts Stefano.
From the unexpected attack, Stefano loses his balance and topples back into the pool.
Water splashes on all of us.
Seconds later Stefano’s head bobs up, sputtering water.
“That’s for not letting me talk to my woman when I called, you fucker,” Trent growls.
Stefano laughs maniacally. “So, not my left side or my right side, huh, Lexi? But right in the middle.” He laughs some more, treading the water. “Didn’t see that one coming. Do you think it will leave a mark?”
“I really hope it does,” I tell him, and he winks.
As Trent cinches me to his side and carries me out, I take one last glance at Ellie’s lifeless body on the ground and think, five days earlier that could have been me.