“Mr. De Salvo?” the headmistress asked carefully when he was silent too long.
Dante’s hand landed on his shoulder and only then did Romeo realize he’d actually physically stumbled.
Romeo found his voice, trying not to break his phone as he clutched it too tightly. “Can you send me a photo?” It was best not to jump to conclusions before lobbying accusations. Despite his certainty. There was still, maybe, a slim chance the woman was just some Ink Blot associate trying to distract him. Everything could be one large plot all coming together.
“Of course,” Mrs. Sunter said. “I’ll have it sent to your email immediately. Please let us know what you’d like us to do as soon as you see it. The gates will be opening again when classes end.”
“Don’t let any unauthorized person near my daughter,” Romeo said firmly. “That stands. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” He disconnected but kept the phone in his hand, waiting for the ping of a new email.
“Lucia?” Dante asked, voice low so as not to carry.
Cristiano stepped closer, too.
Romeo’s phone chimed and he lifted it. “Problem at the school.” He swiped open the email and tapped to view the attachment. Something crushed into his chest, preventing him from breathing, as he looked at the impeccably clear image of a woman he’d once thought he’d known. She’d lost a fair amount of weight, her hair was longer and dyed blonde, and her facial features verged on gauntly. But a man didn’t forget the mother of his child, whether he wanted to or not.
“Brother,” Dante said, “talk to us. Are the Ink Blots targeting Lucy’s school?”
Something like a helpless laugh tore out of him. “I fucking wish,” he said before he could stop himself. He downloaded the image and forwarded it to Mikey’s direct email with a couple taps of his thumb, then lifted his gaze. He wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but judging from the open concern on Dante’s and Cris’s faces, it couldn’t have been good. “I know who egged me this morning, and she’s at the goddamn school now.” As if he didn’t already have something important to be doing. “Amber.”
“Fuck,” Cris muttered.
Dante raised a hand and motioned someone over, anger darkening his expression. His gaze shifted away from Romeo, to the person who settled at Romeo’s shoulder. Mo. “Get him to Mother’s, now.” He looked back at Romeo. “Cris and I will do everything we can to find Grace. You need to secure Lucy before you can rejoin this search.”
He’d never felt more torn. Even knowing his brother was right, and despite how badly he wanted to take the concerning threat away from his daughter, Romeo felt as though he was betraying the woman he’d only that morning promised to protect. If he hadn’t already completely failed her. But he couldn’t fail both of them, and there was still something he could do to keep Lucia safe.
He nodded once to his brother and his cousin, then turned and walked with Mo back to their SUV. Only after he was buckled in did he even remember to call the school again.
“Did you recognize her?” Mrs. Sunter asked after a quick greeting.
“Yeah,” Romeo said. “She has no rights to my daughter. I’m on my way, but it’s gonna take me at least twenty minutes to get out to you. If that woman gets past the gate before I’m there, call the fucking police.” Never his first or favorite method, but he’d covered his bases after Amber had run away. He didn’t just have possession of his daughter, he had sole legal custody of her.
“Is she really back, sir?” Mo asked after Romeo was off the phone.
“Fucking looks that way.” Romeo turned his gaze out the window, chest still uncomfortably tight. Wherever you are, angel, hang in there. I’ll get to you as soon as I can. Not knowing what the hell else he could do and feeling useless just sitting around, he picked up his phone again and started scrolling. It didn’t qualify as a distraction, but he wasn’t looking for that. He just wanted to try and trick himself into believing everything would be all right.
Grace could feel the fatigue in her arm, but she refused to give up. She had no idea how long she’d been waving it back and forth, occasionally flapping her fingers in an effort to prove she wasn’t some trick doll. It’s not futile. Someone would see her. Someone would call the police.
Granted, it had occurred to her that the police might not be the ideal solution given what she’d recently learned about her new lover and his family. But until that morning she’d been somehow—humiliatingly—blind to their other life. She could surely still earnestly claim to know them only as upright businessmen. If anyone could make that argument, she was in the best position to do so. Just as soon as she got out of this dark, cramped trunk and away from the men taking her to her death.
The thought was barely through her head before she heard something both terrifying and thrilling. The single pulse of a police siren. She caught the flash of blue-red circling light through the gaps around her arm and hope soared in her chest. If they hadn’t seen her somehow, then she’d wave harder and she’d make sure they saw her.
So she splayed her fingers as best she could and did exactly that, begging the powers-that-be that her abductors wouldn’t turn this into some high-speed chase. For a long moment, only the sound of music coming from the cab changed.
Then, finally, the car slowed to a stop.
She thought she heard muttering in the silence that followed, then one of the men in the car raised his voice and she realized with a start he was speaking for her.
“If that bitch makes a single sound, just fucking shoot her. You can’t miss.”
Dread crawled in over the hope and she clamped her half-open lips tightly shut. She was well aware she took up most of the space in the trunk, even if she’d twisted around from how they’d dumped her in. Her intention of shouting out when someone got near was dashed, for her own sake, but she still had her protruding arm. And from the indirect warning, she didn’t think they’d realized.
So when she heard movement drawing closer, rustling like someone walking up, she wiggled her hand with the most urgency she could manage. It was somehow scarier with the fresh threat of being shot hovering over her.
She nearly yelped when a warm, calloused hand clasped hers. Just for a second. Then it released and the presence continued by. Her heart settled into a more acceptable rhythm and Grace realized what it had been. A reassurance. She’d been seen.
Tears rushed her eyes and she had to bite into her lips to keep them at bay, to keep herself from breaking into premature sobs. She wasn’t truly saved yet. It was best not to get ahead of herself.
More voices, all male tones, carried from through from the cab. Everything was calm at first. Then she heard a distinct tapping over the trunk and what sounded like a firm demand to pop the lid.