Page 47 of The Fighter

Giggling? Alina doesn’t giggle. Her voice is higher pitched than normal. Breathier. The hair at the back of my neck stands up. “I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.”

She giggles again. “I went out to grab pizza with a friend.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re hot?” She’s slurring her words as if she’s had one too many glasses of wine. Is that the reason for the giggles? If she’s drunk, I don’t like the thought of her wandering around these streets at night. Antonio’s made sure that Venice is a safe city, but even he can’t control everything. This is a city with a lot of tourists, and one of them might be tempted to take advantage of her.

I’ve reached the open waters of the lagoon. “Ali, where are you?” I ask as I speed toward Ospedale on my stolen boat, my heart pounding. No doubt I’m being paranoid, but she’s all by herself. Anything could happen.

She doesn’t reply, not right away. Her answer, when it comes, doesn’t make any sense. “So weird,” she mumbles. “It’s far too warm for skiing.”

“It’s far too warm for skiing? What the hell does that mean? Alina, where are you?”

My gaze snags on something that doesn’t quite add up.

Venice is brightly lit at night. The city prides itself on it. On the Piazza San Marco, the ornate pink-glassed streetlamps are a famous tourist attraction. Even in quieter Castello, the docks are typically illuminated. But cruising past Ospedale toward Celestia, I see a section that is completely in the dark.

Why?

On instinct, I pull in for a closer look. Just in time to hear Ali say, “These guys are wearing them…”

The moon comes out from behind a cloud, and I see something that makes my blood run cold. Two black-clad men are on the dock, trying to get a struggling woman into their waiting boat.

It’s Ali. They’re abducting Ali.

Hot rage smothers me. Their craft is small but built for speed. I can’t let them get her on the boat—it’s too risky. In open water, in the dark, there’s a strong chance I’ll lose them. Only one thing to do then. I gun my motor, heading straight for their hull and bracing myself for the collision.

I leap forward onto the dock right as my boat tears through their escape vessel.

The impact sends a shockwave through the old, weathered wood, but I’m already moving past the wreckage, adrenaline surging through my veins. The first kidnapper doesn’t even see me coming. I pull out my knife and stab his kidney, twisting the blade as I yank it back. He’s dead before he hits the ground.

The other man has a knife. A knife he threatened Alina with. He lunges toward me, but I step out of the way and snap a high kick to his chest that sends him staggering back. He trips over a coil of rope and loses his grip on the blade. His eyes widen as he takes in his dead friend, and he scrambles backward as I advance, hoping to avoid the death that’s staring at him in the face.

Then he wraps his hand around Alina’s ankle.

I don’t know why. I don’t know if he’s thinking he can use her as a shield. All I know is that the moment he does that, he signs his death warrant.

I yank the rope, pulling him toward me. “You dared to touch her?” I snarl. My reflexes are honed by years of relentless combat in the octagon. I grab his face and snap his wrist and then his elbow. He shrieks in pain, and Ali stirs. In the moonlight, I can see her face, and something clenches in my stomach. Her eyes are glazed, and her skin is pale.

Too pale.

This isn’t a glass or two of wine. She looks drugged.

They roofied her?

One of the kidnappers, the one still alive, takes advantage of my momentary distraction. He comes for me, arm hanging limply at his side. I want to make him suffer. I want to carve him open like a turkey and watch him bleed out.

But Ali’s scrambling on her feet, her body swaying unsteadily, and she needs me.

I snap his neck and fling his body into the water, rushing forward and catching her before she hits the ground. The moon shines down on her face, and she’s never looked more beautiful because she’s alive. She’s so fucking precious, and she’s alive. “Hey,” I say softly. “Ali. Open your eyes, dolcezza.”

She smiles at me, her eyes unfocused. “Tomas? Is that you?”

She’s unharmed. “Yes,” I confirm, relief shuddering through my body. “It’s me. I found you.”

Her forehead furrows in confusion. “Were you looking for me?”

I’ve been looking for you all my life.

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