Page 93 of Bound in Debt
Angelo clearly has schemes within schemes, and at least one of them is meant to get him control of my wife. I haven’t forgotten his comment about her looks or how she’d catch a good price.
His price.
She’d be his personal whore and he’d be free to use her however he wanted. Over my dead body.
I open the door to the small office we’re crammed in and a blast of 80s music fills the room. One of the Lombardi goon squad turns to me and points accusingly. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting rid of the security footage,” I reply. “Want me to leave it for the cops?”
He stares at me for a second, taking longer than most mobsters would to answer such an obvious question, but he waves a dismissive hand at me and turns back to Ryan. I need to get the hell out of here and get rid of the evidence before they squeeze the first shot off.
My cell phone goes off again as I search for the security office, but I ignore the buzz. I only have a minute or two to find what I need. It won’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the fuck is going on if someone wanders too far down the hallway or gets curious about the men who commandeered a storage room. And that’s before they start shooting without a silencer.
Opening another door, I spot a bunch of computer screens above a desk. Finally. I quickly stride toward the command center. It’s not the good old days anymore, when all you had to do was snatch a VHS tape and take off. No, it’s the digital age and now you have to deal with bullshit like locating the folder or directory where the files are stored. Then you get to figure out which files are the ones you need to delete.
Thankfully, I find the computer unlocked as I grab the mouse and start clicking around, searching for the current live files. My phone goes off for the third time.
She’s already getting needy.
I knew fucking her would set off a chain reaction. That she’d start to get clingy and demanding of my time. She’s so damn young.
Irritation creeps through my veins, mixing with the adrenaline that’s already present as I continue to search for the right files. I want to delete them and be on my way. I have a limited amount of time before Angelo’s goons do something stupid and the whole place floods with 911 calls and screams.
My eyes bulge with relief when I find what I’m looking for about a minute later. I drag the files to the trash can, hit delete on the recycling bin, and shut down the camera system right as I hear a shot from down the hall. It’s quickly followed by a second one, but I don’t hear any screams.
The music must be too loud, thank fuck.
Finishing up with the security system, I think of how I can make my exit. Going through one of the windows is my best chance of getting out without being seen. Angelo isn’t going to get rid of me that quickly—if that was even the plan. I’m not an easy one to take down.
He’s going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of Mors for good. I can’t wait until Victoria and I are done with his shit.
Finding a window, I pry it open and shove at the screen. The building is just one story, so I step out and round the building. My fucking phone vibrates again after I jump the gate and land on the sidewalk.
Pulling the device free, I see Victoria’s name again and click the green button to answer.
“What the hell do you want, princess?” I growl, expecting some whiny little response, but all I hear is a broken sob.
“It’s Liam,” she whimpers, her voice barely audible. “He’s trying to break the door down.”
The fuck?!
“Where are you?” I demand, sprinting toward the parking lot of the auto repair shop next to the bar. “Grab something, princess, anything. If he breaks through the door?—”
“I pulled my dresser out and blocked it.” Her voice quavers and my stomach drops. She needed me and I ignored her.
“Good girl, baby,” I praise, throwing open a random car door and leaning inside to hot-wire it. “Stay on the phone, okay? Did you call security?”
“The lines are busy,” she replies. “I don’t know what’s happening, Dante. I’m on the second floor. I don’t think I can jump out?—”
“No, you’ll hurt yourself and won’t be able to run. Stay where you are. What did you grab?”
“I didn’t grab anything. I don’t—I don’t know what to grab.”
“Towel rack.”
“It’s bolted to the wall.”
“Toilet seat.”
