Page 126 of Luca
My captors ignored him. They had the upper hand and they knew it.
“It’s unfortunate you didn’t discuss with your wife the future of our children,” Marchetti said as if there weren’t annoyed growls coming from the cell next door. “However, you can be certain that the marriage will happen before my dying breath. With little Penelope’s parents alive or dead.”
I jerked against the restraints, fury slowly pumping through my veins and burning through every cell of my body. “If you touch Margaret–”
The unfinished sentence and threat hung in the air as his fist connected with my jaw. Stars swam in my vision and fireworks exploded behind my eyelids.
“If I wanted to hurt them, they’d be dead,” Marchetti warned. “I’ve known where they were all along, Luca DiMauro. Why do you think you and your friends couldn’t find them?”
I roared, letting out all the months and years of anger, frustration, bitterness and fear swallow me. Almost three year of torture. Almost three years of anger, being replaced by fear that maybe, just maybe, my wife and daughter had been killed. Nobody disappeared so efficiently, least of all a woman who had no successful experience with disappearing.
“I’m going to end you,” I rasped. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to shred you to pieces. My daughter will never marry your son.”
His gun to the back of my head pulled me into blackness.
ChapterFifty-One
MARGARET
Ihad packed up a bag and a few things that Penelope always loved having with her. I also had a weapon on me and a few other necessities in case things went awry.
They are bound to go wrong, my reason whispered.
But I knew my options were limited. In fact, nonexistent. Marchetti knew where I was, whether I did nothing or chose to save my husband. So saving my husband was definitely on my agenda.
He saved me. Now, I’d save him.
A holstered gun was strapped to my chest, under my raincoat. It would seem that sometime over the last three years my aversion to knives was cured. All I had to do was face my memories and what happened that day my father died. The rest was history.
A knife in the back of my pants and one in the holster wrapped around my calf, tucked inside my boots. I wore jeans and it hid my weapons well. I also had two syringes - one with adrenaline and one with a sedative - in my pockets. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.
It has been almost three years since I’d seen Luca. Almost Three years since he’d seen his daughter.
Guilt sliced through me, but I shoved it back.
I had imagined a million scenarios of my reunion with my husband. This was never one of them. Rescuing him from Marchetti. The man who he promised our daughter to.
I got back into the SUV I rented to ensure I had enough space for everyone, and drove around the block. In Rome, that took longer than normal. Fifteen minutes later I finally pulled up in front of the safe house. Correction, torture house. There was nothing safe about that place.
I set the heat up to ensure the car was warm for my baby before I exited. Aiden waited for me in the shadows. The moment our eyes connected, emotions slammed into me.
“Brother,” I choked out, barely able to get the words out.
He pulled me into a hug and that familiar cologne overwhelmed all my senses.
“My baby sister.” His voice held a note of rasp, desperation evident in it. “Almost three years. I have worried about you every single day, Sis.”
“I know,” I rasped. And it was all for naught because the only ones I was hiding from were my family. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Always,” he rasped. “We’ll always be here for you.”
I squeezed him hard, my face in his chest, unable to find words. My throat squeezed hard. Three years of loneliness caught up. I had my baby with me, but my brothers were family too.
“We feel slighted,” a familiar voice came from behind me and I pulled away. “Hello, baby sister.”
I found Tyran and Kyran watching me with identical frowns and worry.
I sighed. “Almost three years and no kisses?”
