Page 43 of We're Not Strangers Anymore

He hands me a folder with the report including the names of the drivers along with the make and model of their cars.

Carlos Jimenez.Conejo’s legal name. The car is totaled which means I need to get my ass to the nearest hospital, whoever was driving is in an ambulance. I’ll swing by the junkyard later to pick up whatever was in the car. There’s a good chance a phone will be in there.

I walk back to my car taking the folder with me as the man shouts something about needing it back. Time to use the police excuse at the hospital. Turning the key, I speed off to get to the hospital as quickly as I can, running every red light and weaving through traffic. They likely have Rowan in an undisclosed location but on the off-chance they had her in the car, she could be at the hospital. I feel my heart nearly beating through my chest as I get closer to the hospital. If this isn’t the moment I’m reunited with Rowan, it’ll at least be the moment I get to meet Conejo’s men. Or at least one of them– which will lead me to Rowan. They’ll talk, I’ll get them to talk the same way I got Frank to. My blood is boiling far worse than it was then. As I near the hospital I kick the speed up just a little more. My hope is that whoever it is, is injured badly enough to where they can’t get far, but not too bad to where they can’t talk. I pull into the emergency entrance of the hospital and rush out of my car to the automatic doors.

“Carlos Jimenez.” I say to the lady at the desk, out of breath from anticipation.

“Ah yes, Carlos is in room one twenty-four.” She responds in Italian.

No fucking way.There’s no way it’s actually him here. It has to be one of his men. He wouldn’t come all the way to Sicily to do his own dirty work.

“Grazzie.” I tell the woman as I speed down the hall to find his room.

I enter the room and see him.Conejo. I finally am going to find Rowan. It doesn’t even feel real. If I have Conejo alone, without his security, it means this is my chance to take his ass down. He’s sleeping, maybe knocked out from pain medicine. I approach his bed and grab the medical paperwork on the end table nearby. Broken pelvis, concussion, broken leg,blah blah blah. Good news is that he can’t run, that’s all I needed to know. I lock the door and grab some medical tape from the drawer. Taking his right hand, I cuff it to the hospital bed. Next, I put the tape over his mouth and just in case he’s a little bitch– I move the nurse call button to the floor. I grab his left hand and snap his pinky with a clean break. His scream is lost behind the tape and his eyes shoot open.

“Carlos Jimenez.” I smile at him. “I’m going to remove the tape but if you make one sound I don’t like, I’m putting a bullet between your eyes.”

He nods in understanding. Look at that, Conejo at my mercy. It’s taking every bit of self control I can muster to not kill him right now with the memory of seeing my dad and brother dead. But I have to get some answers about Rowan first.

I remove the tape from his mouth and he shoots me a malicious grin. “You’re not really in the position to be smiling at me, Conejo. You’d have a real hard time trying to run.” I say, throwing my elbow into his broken leg

“Fuck you!” He spits.

I pistol whip the bridge of his nose and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Where the fuck is Rowan?”

“I could ask you the same, pendejo.” He drawls, leaning his head back into his pillow.

I shove a cloth from the table into his mouth and snap his ring finger. He lets out a muffled scream. “I don’t have time for your fucking games. I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” pulling out a tactical knife from my pocket, I press it to his throat. “Where thefuckis Rowan?”

I snatch the cloth from his mouth to allow him to answer. “I don’t fucking know! I came here to find her and never did. I figured you got the bitch out in time when my men came to your house.”

I cock back and drive my fist into his mouth, knocking a front tooth loose. “Don’t call my wife a bitch. Where are your clothes?”

He motions to the bathroom. I walk over picking up his jeans. This saves me a trip to impound, his phone is still in the pocket of his jeans.

“Password. Now.” I command.

“Fuck you.” He snaps.

Taking my knife, I press it slowly to the inside of his ear. “Fuck! Three six nine eight!” He yells.

I unlock his phone and open up the texting app he has downloaded.

Jc:House is empty. The girl is not here.

Me:Stay and keep watch. I’ll call Austin and have him track her.

Jc:Already called. Location is unavailable.

Me:I’ll drive around and see what I can find. Tell that fucker to fix it before I decide he’s no longer of use.

He’s not lying. If they didn’t take Rowan, then who did? Where the fuck is she? I need to get back to the house. I shove the cloth back into his mouth and unplug his monitor.

“Adiós, Conejo.” I say as I inject oxygen into his IV. As much as I’d love to torture him for what he’s done, I don’t have the connections here that I do in Chicago. He’ll die of cardiac arrest and with the pain medication in his system they’ll likely assume he just overdosed or that his IV was put in wrong. His breathing picks up and I catch his hand as he attempts to pull the needle from his arm. He thrashes in the bed, screaming into the cloth until his eyes roll back and he goes limp. He’s in the end stage of a heart attack. At this point he’ll be dead, if they get to him in time to resuscitate him, he’ll be brain dead. Either way he won’t be my problem anymore. I tuck his phone into my pocket and stride out of his room, walking casually past the unsuspecting nurses. She was wearing the necklace when we went to Isola Bella. Fuck going to the house, I’m going back there to see if her necklace is there.

As I speed fast in the direction of Isola Bella, I pull out Conejo’s phone and send a text to Jc, telling him to meet methere. This guy could possibly know where Rowan is. Even if he doesn’t, it’ll be one less player on Conejo’s team.

Grayson

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