Page 70 of His Ruthless Obsession

"I haven't touched her," Nerio cuts him off. "But the Cappallettis might, if they realize I've found their location. Clock's ticking."

The hold he has on me wavers. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"Because unlike you, I understand business." Nerio's lip curls. "Taking Jazz was sloppy. Amateur. The Cappallettis at least had the sense to grab someone actually related to you."

Elliott clears his throat. "Feed's getting unstable. Might lose the connection soon."

"Tick tock." Nerio checks his watch. "Make the trade, or we kill the feed. Good luck finding her without my hacker."

The don's grip loosens fractionally. I feel him trembling, fury warring with desperation as he watches his niece on screen. The warehouse holds its breath, waiting.

"Time's up in ten seconds," Elliott announces. "Nine... eight..."

28

NERIO

Iwatch Elliott count down, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. The sight of Mantione's meaty fingers tangled in Jazz's gorgeous curls makes my trigger finger itch. Her eyes meet mine, steady and fierce despite the gun I see trained on her.

"Five..."

Mantione shifts his stance, sweat beading on his upper lip. Good. Let him squirm.

"Four..."

Jazz's chest rises and falls in measured breaths. She's keeping it together better than half the men in this warehouse.

"Three-"

"I don't need your fucking help finding my own family!" Mantione's voice echoes off the metal walls. His grip on Jazz's hair tightens, yanking her head back. My hand is up in an instant, gun trained on the asshole as I see her wince. "You think I can't handle my own business?"

I take a measured step forward, keeping my gun trained on his face. "Get a grip on that ego and make the trade, Mantione. Your pride isn't worth what happens next."

"You threatening me, Bueti?"

"Statement of fact." My voice stays ice cold, but inside I'm calculating exactly how many of his men I can take out before they return fire. Three, maybe four if I'm quick. The rest of my guys are in position. One signal and this place turns into a shooting gallery.

Jazz doesn't make a sound, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands. Thirty more seconds. That's my limit before I light this place up, deal be damned.

"You're not the one calling shots here." Mantione presses the gun harder against Jazz's skin.

"Neither are you." I bare my teeth in what might pass for a smile. "Clock's ticking."

My finger hovers over the trigger, muscles coiled tight. One wrong move from Mantione and I'll paint these walls with his brain matter. Jazz has been in his hands too long already. Each second feels like another nail in someone's coffin.

Mantione's jaw works back and forth, his grip on Jazz loosening a fraction. The warehouse air grows thick with tension as he considers his options. I keep my aim steady, picturing the exact trajectory the bullet would take through his skull.

Finally, he jerks his chin at his men. "Cut her loose."

One of his soldiers produces a knife, sawing through the zip ties binding Jazz's wrists. She doesn't rub at the raw skin or show any sign of weakness. That's my girl. She's tough in front of everyone else.

Her eyes find mine, burning with a mix of steel and relief that makes my chest tight. I take a step forward, ready to get her the hell out of here.

A meaty hand clamps around Jazz's bicep as one of Mantione's soldiers yanks her backward. "Not so fast. You owe the boss."

Elliott's fingers dance across his tablet. The screens surrounding us go black, plunging sections of the warehouse into shadow. Mantione's face contorts with rage.

"What the fuck?" He whirls on Elliott. "Turn it back on!"

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