Page 11 of Royally Lucky

“Boss, look.” Andre interrupted their conversation.

“What do you see?” King asked.

Unbuckling, Kendrick leaned forward to see what it was Andre saw. The sight that met his eyes had him swearing low.“There’s a shoe along the road that looks like the one Sutton wore tonight. Can your guy get any information on the vehicles?”

He and Andre moved around where the heel lay, searching for other clues. Kendrick listened while King spoke to someone in the background. Gravel crunched beneath his shoes as he ate up the distance between him and Andre.

“You can see tire tracks disturbed the gravel here, Boss.” Andre’s hulking form squatted a few feet to the left of where he stood. “I think they pulled in front of her, probably offering a lift. Since her shoe is here, I’d wager to say she didn’t go willingly.”

He eyed the road and walked back a few feet. “Hey, man. There’s another set of indents back here. I’d wager to say they knew what they were doing when they boxed her in.”

Kendrick looked up at the sky, wishing the MC’s cameras had reached this far down the road.

“Keys was able to pull up the plate on the first vehicle. We got a name and address.” He didn’t sound happy.

“Tell me.” Kendrick held the shoe in his hand. The now broken strap couldn’t keep the heel secured on her foot since the flimsy piece, which would normally fasten around her slim ankle, appeared shredded.

Dread clenched his insides.

“Vigliaturo. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Vigliaturo?” he repeated. He knew a lot of men within the network. Hell, some he’d met and forgotten because they were inconsequential. He told King the same.

“Well, this guy, Vigliaturo, tried to hide the fact he owned the SUV behind an LLC owned by a corporation. Keys dug further to see if he could get us a name to go on. His skills when it comes to hacking are amazing. My guy could get the fucker’s blood type if we needed it.”

Kendrick made a mental note in case he needed Keys’ expertise in the future.

“I need to make a call.”

Andre held his hand up, showing Kendrick his cell phone. “On it.” His look screamed grim.

“Have you heard of this Vigliaturo?” Kendrick wanted to know if Andre had information to help them track the bastard.

“I know of a family with that last name. I do not know if they are the same or related. Your father and Silvio Vigliaturo did business together over twenty years ago. He also had a son around your age and a younger one.” Andre turned his phone toward them, showing his screen with a grainy image of two men and a woman.

“Did my father cheat this man out of money or another business deal?” A man like his father had been a ruthless, unscrupulous bastard who didn’t give a fuck who he screwed over as long as he came out on top.

“Worse.” Andre breathed a long sigh. “He slept with his moglie. Some say it was consensual, others disagree. Camilla is the one in the picture. She is a very beautiful woman, sì? Vigliaturo, not so much. However, there is no denying your father had been very handsome and charismatic. So it wasn’t too far-fetched to think she slept with him willingly. Of course, when Silvio discovered the affair, she denied doing so willingly. Your father never refuted the claims. He walked away as if they were below him. Mind you, this happened over twenty years ago.”

Kendrick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish I could say my father would’ve never forced a woman to sleep with him. You know, to be able to say that was below his standards. But you and I both know he had no morals.”

King grunted. “Sounds like we have a lot in common. Keys has a few locations for this Vigliaturo. I don’t think he took Sutton to fuck with you specifically.”

The thought of Sutton in the clutches of men like those from his father’s ilk made him see red. Kendrick had done manythings for his family, but he’d never taken a woman against her will. Although as a boy, he’d idolized his father and even thought the man could do no wrong. How fucking mistaken he’d been.

His father took him on his first hunting trip at the tender age of eleven. He’d been excited, thinking he’d bag a massive buck like the fourteen-point prize one in their den. Of course, he should’ve known better. His father liked sadistic games. The year before, he’d introduced Kendrick to sex through a prostitute nearly three times his age. Hell, at ten, his dick hadn’t known what to do with a pussy, let alone how to pleasure one. That hadn’t stopped the elder Calderone.

As the hunting trip approached, Kendrick’s excitement increased. No way could there be a repeat of last year’s debacle. Within hours of arriving at the hunting cabin, he’d learned that deer wasn’t the prey he sought. The hunt, as the Mafia called it, was an initiation he had to pass. His father gave him a loaded gun and a map. The words that echoed around the others as his father led him onto the wraparound deck still had the power to send a shiver down his spine. His mission was simple. Hunt to kill or be hunted and killed.

His father stabbed his finger on a red circle.“Right there is your mark, boy. Only one of you will return to the cabin alive. Don’t let me down, Kendrick.”

He looked at the circle and then back at his father, wanting to ask who he was supposed to take out. The hardness of the cold, dark eyes staring down at him kept his words locked inside. He gave a jerky nod.

“Good choice. See you soon, boy.”

Kendrick closed his eyes, shaking off memories of the past. The Calderone name alone sent dread down the spine of many due to their ruthless reputation. He had zero qualms when it came to enforcing rules by any means, whether it be in his business or personal life. Showing those who fucked with himjust how feral he could be didn’t bother him. That night, twenty-eight years ago, he’d walked out of the woods at eleven years old with blood covering his hands and ice in his veins. One lesson taught to him with a slight learning curve was that a body could be disposed of easily if you knew how to do it correctly.

The blood that stained his hands didn’t faze him now. He only took out those who, in his mind, deserved to meet their maker. Most of whom were men like his father. The man he’d killed had been one of them, but he’d been a traitor. Blood in. Blood out.

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