Page 139 of Savage Temptation

If dying was the cost of those beautiful times, it would definitely be worth it. I'd rather die today than live without having ever experienced that kind of happiness.

I thought of Alison and her unwavering support, the moments of joy we had together, the undeniable sisterly bond we shared and cherished. She held a special place in my heart, and leaving her behind felt like a tragedy.

And then there was my father – the man whose identity remained a mystery. I hoped he was happy to know I existed, even though I might never meet him. I wanted to uncover the truth, to finally have the answers my heart craved for serenity.

Was this me saying my goodbyes?

"How much longer until we arrive?" The voice behind me broke my reverie, making me spin around to face the person sitting behind me. It wasn't Mercier's voice. It was a woman's. One that sliced through the air like a sharp blade. Who was she?

My eyes widened as I saw her. She was probably in her late fifties, had short, jet-black hair that matched the dark sunglasses that covered half her features. Her immaculate white suit exuded power and confidence, mirroring her unwavering gaze that was harshly set on me.

There was a familiarity about her, a feeling that I had seen this woman before.

"Just another two minutes, Ma'am," the driver replied.

Her gaze never wavered, and her lips curved into a sinister smile. With a deliberately slow motion, she removed her sunglasses, and the truth hit me like a tidal wave.

I knew who she was, but why was she here? Why would she want to kidnap me?

"Good. Is Mr. Mercier there already?"

The mention of that name had shivers running down my skin in waves of disgust. She probably knew what it did to me since her grin deepened into a malevolent expression that painted a canvas of doom. My doom.

"He has just arrived."

“Perfetto. Right. On. Schedule.”

Chapter 43

Liam

Enzo Amato was either being starkly honest or brutally stupid.

I watched him strut into Dea Tacita with his head held high, not so much as a slight flinch tarnishing his confidence as my men pulled a dozen guns on him. One wrong move and he’d have more holes in him than a strainer.

From the last report we had gotten only two days ago, Mercier was still waiting for his bail to be posted. We had fiddled with his files enough to have it postponed indefinitely. Some of the police officers were offered generous compensation to make sure it took as long as possible, adding an extra amount for them to tip us off if he got released.

We did the same to the media. Lining their pockets with green kept them from publishing anything even remotely related to Mercier’s name. Being pals with the mayor could come back to bite us in the ass, even though I was practically sure Matt had that big fish more than hooked. Still, it was wise to avoid the news from ringing in ears that didn’t suit us.

It was under control.

So shoot me for considering the backstabbing Detroit trash was behind Jamie’s kidnapping.

“I have to give it to you, Don Amato. Balls of fucking steel!” I cued, walking out of the shadows towards where he stood in the middle of the huge, empty dance floor.

There were clicks of guns popping bullets into their chambers soundtracking my slow walk. That distinctive chime of metal on metal and shuffling feet would scare the best of soldiers, but not him.

Don Amato looked straight at me, holding the regal pose of someone who had nothing to lose.

“Where is she?” He demanded without a hint of fear, despite his predicament.

“I thought you could tell me. Is it a coincidence that the plates on the car that took her are from Michigan?” There was an accusation hidden between my words that I was sure Don Amato picked up on despite the lack of reaction.

“I don’t believe in coincidences. Show me.” He demanded as if his Don status couldn’t fade under the threat of a foreign territory and blazing weapons eager to send him back home in a wooden box.

Pulling out my phone, I showed him the blurry picture Mike had sent me with the plate number. I watched his jaw muscles dance to the rhythm of his annoyance, yet nothing in his posture made me think he was in on it.

So I decided to make a concession.

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