Page 88 of Broken Vows

My kick-ass wife is back. She was never gone, only taking a much-needed break after running for ten years, but now, there are innocent women’s lives on the line, and of course she’s going to step in and stop the worst from happening. Gigi’s going to need backup, and I’m not letting Franco Fiore slip out of reach again.

“Oof,” Luca groans. “The real party is finally starting.”

45

GIGI

I hold my hand out to Matteo’s security detail who have by some means followed me. They must have tracked my escape via hidden cameras, even if I chased down the fire escape until I could connect with an elevator to the main lobby.

“Hold off,” I beg them. “I need to negotiate here.” This isn’t only about Carla, but also about the baby she’s carrying.

When light falls into the dark interior of the van, all I see is my sister, tied up and exactly as she was on the call earlier. Now a gun points at her temple, a scalpel blinking in the little light.

“Let her out,” I say. Carla has to get out of harm’s way first.

“How many people do you want to die today?” Franco’s voice sounds from the back.

My gaze flicks to the side, only to see another man with an automatic rifle pointing at my waist. With that half of the double door closed, he’s out of view to everyone except me.

God. We’re outnumbered, and the streets are busy with tourists. Kids. Moms with strollers. Normal people going about their business.

“You said this was going to be a fair exchange,” I beg, knowing I’ve stepped into Franco’s trap.Again.

“Not here,amorina. Get in, or we pull away and she’s dead. Make a scene, and we shoot this street to the ground. You have five seconds.”

And no choice. I hold my hands up to the guards, indicating to them to back off. “Please tell Stephano I’m sorry. I had to go. He’ll understand.”

I clamber into the van willingly, and the door pulls closed.

It’s dark inside, and adrenaline rushes through me. Carla moans, and then someone else does. I fall back as the van drives off, and my body hits something as I crumple to the floor.

“Carla?” I manage, barely a whisper, disoriented.

A hand slaps my face from out of nowhere, and I collapse to the bed of the truck as my ears ring.

“Fucking cunt. Making me come all the way to the States. Waste of my fucking time.”

His body is on mine, pressing hard as he grabs my arms and twists them painfully. He jerks me around and ties my hands as my face gets squashed against the cold metal floor. I croak out a scream, but a knee presses into my back, squeezing my lungs so hard, I can hardly breathe. He tapes my legs together, and I strain to get the biggest gap possible between them.

Once I’m tied, he forces me into an upright position, twisting me so my face collides with his chest. His smell hits me full in the face, just like in Lake Como. Whiskey and cigarettes, but the rough scratch of a beard wasn’t there before.

Medical disinfectant.This scent brings back every memory of that night, and I’m dry heaving in seconds.

“Come, come,amorina, it’s not that bad.”

“Let her go, Franco,” I plead. “You want me, not her.”

“You’re so fucking predictable. Vincenzo was right. If I want you, I need to go for your sister. Worked in Lake Como, and now, it worked again.”

I can hardly breathe with the way I’m pressed to him, and with the shock of my own stupidity. Instead of running to Carla, I should have stayed put and let Stephano and Matteo do the negotiations with this madman.

“You touch her, you die.” I heave against his chest.

“Is that so?” He chuckles. “Time for you to shut the fuck up,amorina.”

Tape rips, and before I can say anything else, it glues to my mouth, gagging me. I’m already tender where he slapped me, but now he hits me again, and I slump back. The vehicle jolts and swerves as it speeds through Boston, and I’m like a loose object, shifting with every unexpected turn. Every now and again, the ride is so rough, I collide with something softer shoved against the wall.

Franco settles in the dark, and when the flick of a lighter casts a glow in the van, I glance around, frantic. He’s lighting a cigarette, and I register he’s wearing a plaid shirt. Not the black suit I saw him in last.

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