Page 90 of Runaway Queen

“Hands up, Chernov!” one of the guards shouted at me.

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I have them up, I believe. Surely you want to check me for weapons first?” I reminded them.

Silence met that question, and then one of the men came forward. He was sweating bullets. He felt around my ankles and patted down my legs.

“Psst, it’s not down there,” I whispered to him mockingly.

He stood and looked me square in the eye.

“Try my chest.”

His hand moved over my pockets, and he pulled my phone out. “He’s clean.” He tucked my phone away in his own pocket and jerked his head toward the gates. “Hurry up.” He pressed his gun between my shoulders and pushed me forward. His radio chirped, and he spoke into it. “We’ve got him. We’re on our way.”

“Let me guess, you can’t hit me because Antonio wants that pleasure for himself?”

The men were silent as they led me up the dark driveway. We walked past the spot where Sofia had killed her cousin and I’d taken the blame. We continued to the green where I’d shot poor ol’ Gino, the bumbling, good-natured security guard who had tried to prevent me from taking Sofia hostage all those years ago.

Casa Nera looked different in the rising light. Scaffolding hid the right side from me. There was a general air of disrepair that had never been present before. A classic sign that a capo had held on to the keys of the kingdom too long.

We entered the building, and a flood of memories washed over me. It had the same Gothic style that Sofia had hated when growing up there. Dark oppressive wood and low ceilings pressed down on me. Intricate, dark oil paintings hung on the walls, and the lights were low inside. We didn’t go down to the basement, I was happy to find.

Instead, I was led through to what seemed like a great hall of some kind. Maybe, in the past, the room was used as a grand dining room, perhaps there was dancing after dinner and an orchestra played. Now, it seemed that Antonio De Sanctis had set it up as his own throne room - a place where he could play king.

A single ornate chair sat before a huge fireplace. A hearty blaze burned within it, some of the flames rising nearly as tall as me.

Men lined the walls, all armed, their dark eyes trained on me. I stopped just inside the door, my eyes meeting Antonio’s. He was sitting on his little fake throne. Pathetic.

“If you wanted to ask me for dinner, Tony, you could have just called.”

Antonio raised his hand and gestured, ignoring my goading words completely. “Bring him.”

We walked farther into the room. My eyes found Renato. He was standing to the right, just behind his father’s shoulder. His eyes, so like Sofia’s, met mine. There was no flicker of recognition. None at all.

“Well, Nikolai? I’m sure you knew it would come to this?” Antonio’s voice was grand, speaking to his own sense of self-importance.

His words made me chuckle. “I did, and the fact that it was so obvious to both of us only makes what you did even more ironic.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you thought I’d expect you to kidnap my son… you surely must have guessed that I’d take precautions?”

Antonio nodded slowly. He didn’t look nearly riled enough. “I did expect that. A tracker in the soft toy. Hardly inventive.”

“Well, we can’t all be brilliant like you.”

“No, you can’t. The only thing I’m surprised about is that you didn’t bring my daughter along to bargain with.”

“This is between us.”

“Between us. Between men. I guess that includes little Leo now, doesn’t it?”

I fought the urge to surge forward and attempt to kill Antonio, despite the guns trained on me. I simply shrugged. The De Sanctis patriarch didn’t like that. He wanted a reaction from me, and this wasn’t it.

“Maybe we should hear from the boy.” He jerked his head toward Renato. “Bring the bastard in here.”

My eyes connected with Renato’s, just before he turned away and strode from the room.

Antonio stood and shuffled toward me. “You know the problem with you, Chernov. You are too confident in your abilities. Sure, you can kill a few men in prison, but really, you don’t rate next to a well-organized, loyal family.”

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