Page 58 of Bianchi

Cristo, I hope we do. I’m not sure what I’ll do if we don’t get her back. I can’t live without her.

Leaning forward, I demand, “Who called the housephone?”

“Haven said they didn’t give a name. They just said they’ve got her and that they’ll call again.”

“Why didn’t they call you or me?”

Shrugging, Massimo replies, “I don’t know. I guess they didn’t have our numbers, or they called the one they’ve used before.”

A knock on the door cuts off any further conversation and Massimo stands, calling out. Angelo enters seconds later, a grave look on his face.

Chapter 36

Aurora

Igroan, squinting my eyes as I try to open them and get my bearings. My head is pounding, and it’s not until I inhale deeply, the unfamiliar stench of chemicals assailing my nostrils, that I remember the guy and the van. Oh God, and the note. Was it all a ploy to kidnap me? Romeo was never in trouble?

Blinking, I try to clear away the fuzziness clouding my vision and mind. How did this happen? Nobody would have known we were in that particular store, let alone that I was going to be leaving through the emergency exit. My eyes widen, and I bite down into the flesh of my lower lip.

Was Angelo behind this?

He didn’t know we were going to that particular store until I dragged him inside. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have told someone. Unlike me, he has ways of communicating with people. Maybe he figured I would make my escape out of the fire exit and gave them a heads up. If he was aware of the note, then it would have been an obvious exit.

Rubbing my eyes, I exhale through the pain that seems to be coming from every muscle in my body. Right now, I need to focus on finding a way out, not on how I got here. Tentatively, I sit up on the cot before collapsing back when the room tilts. Nausea engulfs me and I blow out a steady stream of air in a bid to ease it.

Okay, that’s not going to work.

Turning my head on the lumpy, polyester-filled pillow, I scan the room. There’s not much in here. Four gray cinder block windowless walls surround me, with a closed rusty metal door in the center of one. A silver, rust-stained bucket sits in the far corner with half a roll of toilet paper haphazardly thrown on the floor next to it. There’s a heaviness weaving its way into the pit of my stomach.

I knew this wasn’t my world, and yet I thought I could handle it. How could I have been so stupid? I should have told Romeo the second I read that note. He could have sent someone else, someone more equipped to handle whatever this is.

He won’t come for me.

Rubbing at the dull ache in my chest, I blink away the tears and exhale a shaky breath. What if he thinks I’ve run away? I don’t want to die here.

The sound of the door unlocking echoes around the room. I need to buy myself some more time to figure out who these people are. Praying that there isn’t a camera in the room and cursing myself for not having checked, I close my eyes and feign unconsciousness. A stiffness seeps into my body and the position feels unnatural and forced.

On the other side of the door, I can hear unintelligible and urgent chatter before it opens and their voices become crystal clear. They don’t seem fazed by my presence, comfortable to continue their conversation as they walk into the room. I listen intently, trying to place their accents.

“She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He said to bring her in, in one piece,” one of them admonishes.

“She is in one piece, and anyway, I’d hardly call a knock on the head ‘getting hurt’. She’s got worse coming to her later, so what does it matter?”

Oh God.

I bite my tongue to keep my whimper at bay, swallowing it down with the bile that rises at their words.

If I had to guess, I’d say they’re from somewhere in Eastern Europe, but I couldn't say where. I hold my breath, fighting to keep the despair at bay. I don’t have a clue who Romeo’s enemies are. It’s not like he shared that kind of information with me and now I’m here with no idea what they might want from me. I doubt they’ll be as forgiving as Romeo, and when they realize I can’t help them with the information they want, they’ll kill me.

Panic rises in my throat, threatening to choke me, but I keep my breathing steady and continue to listen.

A dull thud sounds, skin hitting something padded and then feet shuffling on a dusty floor before the second one exclaims, “Hey, what was that for?”

The first guy speaks. He sounds older and annoyed. “She clearly was hurt, durak, or she would be awake by now. The Italian was clear; we need her to lure Bianchi out and she can’t do that if she’s dead.” He pauses before there’s more shuffling. “I won’t hesitate to lay the blame solely at your feet if she doesn’t wake up and he demands answers.” The threat in his tone is clear.

There’s a heavy silence before they leave, the door banging shut behind them. It’s only when the sound of their footsteps disappear that I allow myself to relax.

I replay their conversation, analyzing every sentence. They want to lure Romeo here and use me as bait. There was never any chance of me finding out what they wanted and returning to him. This was their plan all along.

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