“Don’t worry about that,” the man on the other line claims confidently. “What’s Dante’s condition?”
“He was shot…in the back of the leg. His calf, I think.”
“But he’s not dead?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
My jaw tightens. No, I’m not. I have no clue where he is right now. “I think so.”
“Listen, Lucy,” the man scolds, using my fake name and making his exasperation clear. “If I’m running a rescue operation, I need details. How many people am I saving? Who am I looking for? Is it necessary for me to bring a med kit? How many rounds of ammo should I bring?”
“I gave you all the details I have,” I retort. “Expect the ammo part. I could count the men if you need?—”
“No,” he drawls. “I don’t need you to count the men.”
Okay…
I’d love to say this guy is fired based on his customer service alone, but he has to be good at what he does. Dante would never send me to him if he didn’t have the utmost faith in this Enzo’s abilities.
“So, you can help?” I press, desperate for some spark of hope that someone will swoop in and save the day.
“When was the last time you saw Dante?”
“A few hours ago, I think. They separated us immediately after I was sold off in some bullshit auction. If Angelo isn’t up and walking around yet, he will be soon. He’ll be looking for me, since right now he doesn’t have me to hand over after taking more than three million dollars from some rich politician.”
“Damn.”
My fingers itch holding the phone. I can’t take much more waiting. Can Enzo pull off a miracle or not?
“Look, Enzo, I’m really trying to be patient here,” I stress. “But I’m freaking out. And you sound like you think this is a lost cause.”
“It’s not,” he states evenly. “Though I'm uncertain whether I'll be able to make it in time.”
“In time for what?”
“In time before they kill Dante, if you’re not where they put you.”
Did I just make things WORSE?!
A broken sob rips from my throat. How is it possible that I feel more inferior now than I did two seconds ago?
I don’t know what I was thinking.
I should’ve tried something else. Maybe I should have gone through the house and looked for somewhere to hide until I could find Dante’s room.
He would’ve been surrounded by guards. You were never going to just waltz in there.
“Hey, now,” the man scolds. “No crying. Focus.”
“On what?” I shoot back. “I’m stuck on a roof and my husband is somewhere in this house and I can’t do anything about it. Do you want me to go back inside?”
“Just stay put,” he orders. “I’ve got four hours until dawn. I might be able to make it.”
“And what if you don’t? What should I do?”
“Just stay put. Don’t move.”