Page 50 of Risky Vows

My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since last night. I can only imagine how hungry and thirsty poor Andie must be. Her back is glued to the bed, watching the scene, horrified. "Please give her some water. She's dehydrated."

"I don't give a fuck," he says, turning on his spiky boots and leaving the room.

30

Massimo

"Any news?"I ask the moment I stride into Dante's living room.

The open-concept area looks like it's preparing for a SWAT operation, with about ten armed men, laptops on the coffee table, and a couple of average-looking people I don't recognize—probably his technology support, talking amongst themselves.

"You're not going to like what I have to say."

I curl my fingers into fists. If something has happened to Amara, I'll never forgive Dante or myself. "Shoot." My gut clenches so hard I can't breathe. "Tell me."

"You were right. After the argument, Amara called Andie. Most likely, Andie had just been kidnapped. She took the call and met Amara. We believe the men took them both."

I let out a loud sigh. I suspected that possibility, but the confirmation is like a giant bucket of ice water thrown on my head. I experience a twinge of guilt for thinking Amara and Andie had some ridiculous grand plan of taking off and leaving us behind.

"Ross Santini is about to die," I vow. The patriarch won't live another day if it's up to me.

"He traveled to Sicily to take his son's ashes. Most likely, he's been told that his men captured them and is on the way back. One of the hackers is tracking his flight information."

"So they're waiting for him to come back…"

"… to kill Amara and Andie. He probably wants to do it himself," Dante finishes.

Shivers roll down my spine. We need to get to them fast. "Where are they?"

Dante turns his back to me, grabs a bottle of aged whiskey, and pours it into two tumblers. "I sent some men out in the streets to see if they can find out. Earlier, before you called, Nico and his men broke into the Santini's warehouse and didn't find anything."

"They wouldn't be so obvious." The warehouse where the Santinis operate is small compared to ours. Not much space to hide the women.

“No,” I reply as he passes me a glass of whiskey.

I shoot it, hoping the smoky finish will give me relief. Unfortunately, it doesn't. Desperation builds inside me, moving to different parts of me. I'll lose Amara if we don't get to her in time. Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I inhale and rub my eyes, willing them away. I need to be strong. "Amara can't die."

"She won't. Andie and my baby are there too, asshole."

"Yes, of course. We need them all alive," I say and squeeze his shoulder.

How the fuck will Amara live if she gets out of this thing? Ugo's torture almost broke her years ago. It hurt her self-esteem and sense of security. Now, being kept captive will only bring back all those memories. And I'm nowhere near her. I can't protect her.

One minute being mistreated by those bastards is one minute too long. It's been hours. Another current of desperation rolls through me, and this time, the damn tears blur my vision. I wipe them away, uncomfortable.

"It's all my fault," I hiss under my breath.

Dante sits next to me and pats my back. "No, man, it's not. It's a horrible turn of events, and if anything, it's my fault. I killed Santini's heir. Poked the bear."

"Yeah, a major fuckup." Under different circumstances, I'd give Dante a lot of grief for this colossal mistake. Maybe we'd even resort to a physical fight to blow off some steam. I don't have the mind space to focus on anything other than getting the women back alive and well.

"It was do or die."

"Well, there are a lot of those lately. Amara's brother is out of his coma," I say, glancing down at the tumbler.

I take another generous sip of liquid courage a second or two late. If Dante can admit to his fuckup, I can own mine, even if it's on a smaller scale. Amara’s question echoes in my ears.

Wouldn’t you have protected your brothers if you were in my position?

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