Page 42 of His to Claim

I’m not sure when I became so easily readable, but I do my best to mask any expression from my face. No one needs to know what happened between Carlotta and I up at the cabin. Hell, it wouldn’t end well for me if four Rossi men want to kill me for touching their baby sister.

“Okay, everyone,” Miceli says, clearing his throat and taking charge of the room. “Let’s go over exactly what we know and what we’re going to do about getting Lottie back. Because if Archer’s contacts don’t come through, we’re still moving.”

Miceli Rossi is larger than life, the biggest physically out of all of us, and he commandeers a room and captivates an audience like no one else. It’s why he’s able to lead the Five Families so well. People look to him for guidance and he is respected by so many important leaders and businessmen in this city.

However, Carmine Gallo is not one of them. And he’s going down.

Because the alternative would be to let him win and there’s no way in hell we can let that happen. He’s evil personified and his agenda to take over the table can’t be good.

While Carlotta’s family discusses every single angle and possible option we have—and without intel there isn’t much—I mentally will my contacts to pull through. A sick feeling eats away at my stomach lining like a bad ulcer. If we don’t get to Carlotta soon, I’m terrified that she is going to suffer the same fate as Caitlin. And if that happens, I will never forgive myself.

17

CARLOTTA

I’m bouncing around in the back seat of an SUV and I have no idea where we’re headed, but I’d be willing to bet my last dollar I’ll be seeing Carmine Gallo’s ugly mug very soon. I’m more worried about Damon, though. In my head, I’ve been thanking every angel above since we left my apartment building that they didn’t turn their guns on him.

I can still picture him lying there on the floor, completely helpless and at their mercy. God, it kills me to think about what could have happened. My only agenda was getting these three thugs out of there before they decided to do something stupid. Before they decided to kill Damon.

Releasing a shaky breath, it occurs to me that I would’ve done anything to keep him safe. Even if that would’ve meant being reckless and throwing myself in front of a bullet for him. And, yes, it’s crazy because we haven’t even known each other for very long, but no matter what Damon thinks about himself, I know he’s a good man. Besides, after he rescued me, I figure I owe him one.

We drive for what feels like forever, but it is probably only twenty minutes or so. I’m beginning to grow anxious and I know escaping is going to be harder this time around because Gallo will be better prepared. Granted, I had some help last time thanks to Damon, but I have the sinking feeling I’m very much on my own this time around.

How could I not be? No one has any idea where I am, including me. That’s going to make it extremely difficult for my brothers and Damon to swoop in and save me.

So it looks like I’m going to have to save myself. I just have to be smarter than Gallo. And, truthfully, I don’t think that’s going to be that big of a challenge. The man is so power hungry that he makes mistakes right and left. Instead of being smooth and sneaky, he barrels into town with a clear and obvious agenda, provoking my family and causing problems. That makes me think he isn’t all that bright. Or he’s just so blinded by what he wants—power and control over NYC’s mafia families—that he’s tripping up and being foolhardy, brash and far too impulsive for his own good.

And that all works in my favor. The second he slips, I’m going to take immediate advantage of the situation. Whether that means securing a weapon and battling my way out or it means getting free and running, I’ll be prepared to take action.

Clenching my fists, I keep my attention on the passing scenery outside, searching for landmarks and trying to pinpoint our exact location. I don’t have my cell phone so I can’t call my brothers, but I might be able to communicate my whereabouts at some point, if I escape Gallo.

Correction—when I escape Gallo.

Stay positive,I tell myself. My family can’t let a power hungry, mad man like Carmine Gallo win. No freaking way.

And knowing my brothers like I do, I can guarantee Gallo’s days in NYC are numbered.

We left the city and drove off the expressway a little bit ago. After driving along a rural road for maybe another ten minutes, the driver turns the SUV down a dirt drive. We pass through some tall trees, the tires crunching over gravel, and a farm house comes into view. It’s large and cozy-looking with a wraparound porch. The kind of place I could picture in a Hallmark movie. Except I know better. The evil lurking inside it would never be found in a feel-good film starring Candace Cameron Bure. Nope, more like a Stephen King flick.

Just beyond the house, I catch a glimpse of a barn. I’m expecting to stop in the front driveway, but we continue around back and pull to a stop in front of the barn. It doesn’t look nearly as nice as the house in front and I start getting creepy vibes, a tingle erupting at the base of my neck.

The SUV doors open and, a second later, I’m being yanked out. My feet hit the ground with a thud and I try to dig my heels in, but it’s useless. The big thug has my arm locked in a bone-crunching hold and I have no choice except to follow along with his fast, clipped pace.

One of the other men swings the barn door open and we go inside. It’s gloomy and the smell of hay fills my nose. There’s also a musty smell permeating the air and I have a feeling there haven’t been any animals living in here for a very long time. No equipment hangs from the walls and the horse stalls are empty. Not even one chicken in sight. Although, I can’t exactly picture Carmine Gallo dressed in overalls and playing farmer. Maybe this place belongs to someone else. Seems like it’s been deserted for a while.

“We meet again.”

My head snaps over to see Gallo stroll in through a side door and he’s looking just as smug as I remember. God, I hate this guy.

“You may have escaped me once, Ms. Rossi, but I can assure you that will not be happening again.”

“We’ll see,” I say, an edge of challenge in my voice. Because if he thinks I’m just going to lay down and give in, that I’m not going to fight him every step of the way, he must be forgetting I have Rossi blood flowing through my veins.

His dark eyes narrow and I do everything to keep myself from spitting at him. How dare he think he can target and destroy my family. We’ve done nothing to provoke him.

“Take her up,” he orders.

Up?For a moment, I’m confused because I didn’t see an upstairs, but as the big thug roughly guides me toward the rear of the barn, I notice a loft. It’s pretty high, maybe twenty feet up, and I’m shoved against the ladder.

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