For Adriano (11 page)

“What?!” I roar, his words issuing a vehement rage.

Christopher has the guts to mutter, “Why…are you interested in her? She was… just a slave.”

My temper explodes, so I twist the knife into his hand, making him cry in misery as I rotate it. “Wrong day to piss me off,
amico
.”

There’s so much outrage and regret holding me on the edge of sanity, and I conclude that I need to leave before I kill them both.

“We’ll lock him in room one.” I haul Christopher up, and we hang him on a bar in the first room of the warehouse.

Outside, while walking to my car, I order Damian without looking at him. “Stay away from me if you don’t want me to murder you.” I get in and slam the door.

Driving up the abandoned road, I realize I didn’t get any vital information about Cam. I speed back to the Loop filled with more ire than ever, wondering about how many lies she’s told me.

CHAPTER 9

Camilla

I look up from my place in the diner to see a BMW coming to a stop across the street at the ATM. No one exits the vehicle right away, and the tinted windows block the identity of the two people inside. I’m holding my breath as the car door opens.

CHAPTER 10

Adriano

I turn up the air-conditioning in my BMW, glaring at Damian in my rearview mirror as I speed away from the warehouse. The clouds in the sky begin to close, casting a factual shadow over my mood. I’m losing command of my emotions. Damian’s declaration of sleeping with Cam triggers a new level of anger.

“Fuck!” I clutch my hair with one hand in disbelief.

It was imperative that I leave immediately because I could feel myself spinning out of control. And I’m not at liberty to kill a true member of the Syndicate without the permission of the
Capo crimine
. Furthermore, I wanted to think about my options. But first, my rage needs to be conquered, and that seems impossible at the moment.

I should’ve demanded to know when Damian slept with Cam. It was obvious he had a hard-on for her, yet I didn’t notice it being mutual. Was I just missing signs? This is exactly what I loathe. This feeling of self-doubt Cam induces within me. Even after two years in each other’s lives, even after nine months apart, she still evokes emotions I can’t dominate.

Never,
never
did I betray her. She hated my flirting. I even caught her calling me a man-whore. And all the while, she was the one that slept with someone else.

As I race down the road, her face keeps attacking my mind. I release a deep breath, trying to find some sense of calm, but fury boils in my blood.

“She fucked him!” I bellow in the small space, veering into another lane when I hit the steering wheel.

After taking a sharp turn, I swerve off the road and spin out, so I hit the brakes and slow down while bumps and uneven ground make it challenging to get back in control of the car. Coming to a stop, I put it in ‘park’, too livid to drive any more. My seat vibrates as the engine continues to run. Leaning my elbow on the window, I rub the tension in my jaw.

What can I do with Damian?

For now, nothing. While I’d like to bury my fist into his face for ever touching her, it’s in my best interest not to let my resentment rule my course of action. I’ll have to answer to James and explain if I go back and hurt Damian. I’m not willing to clarify the depth of my relationship with Cam to James, because she’s his daughter. I haven’t even told Luca, although I do know he’s had his suspicions due to some questions he’s asked. I trust Luca, but I never told anyone about Cam’s scars or my uncertainties regarding her past. It’s between Cam and me.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I check the screen; it’s Jeffrey, the Financial Director of Security Simplicity.

“Yes?”

“Adriano, I e-mailed you a report from Finance. Did you get the chance to go over it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

A pause before he continues, “We should discuss the numbers. Were you planning on returning to the office today? It’s almost six p.m. already.”

I rub my eyes with my fingers. It’s important that I finish my talk with Fat Sal’s first soldier, so I’m going to have to travel back to the warehouse. I’ll go to SS now and then return up north to conduct a proper interrogation after I’ve cooled off.

“I’ll come in now,” I say tiredly. My rage is slowly ebbing, but intense jealousy stays right beneath my skin.

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

I end the call and shift the car into ‘drive’, resuming my ride.

Just as I turn on the radio, my phone alerts me again. The person I’ve been eagerly anticipating an update from. I connect it to the car charger and answer, “Henry.”

“We’ve got a lead.”

I instantly straighten in my seat.

“She just used her card in Englewood,” he adds.

“Address?” I demand, blocking everything from our messed up past and focusing on not letting her slip from my grasp. Entering it into my GPS, I ask, “Have you informed James?”

“He didn’t answer, so I called you. I’m about to call him again.”

“I’ll do that. Stand by in case I need you,” I order.

“I’ll be here.”

I cut the call and contact James, who picks up on the first ring.

“Adriano,” he says, hopeful. The background noise tells me he’s in his car too.

“We’ve got a lead. Cam used her card in Englewood. I’m on my way.”

“Let me check how far away I am.”

I repeat the address and wait.

“How long until you’re there?” he asks.

I check the estimated time on my navigation. “One hour and twenty-three minutes.”

“I’m further. At least a half hour behind you.”

“I’m going,” I blurt, speeding alongside the river.

“I wasn’t expecting anything less. Adriano, be careful and call me the instant you have something.”

“Capito.”
Understood.

Time can’t pass fast enough as I hit the gas like a madman.

Hope is a treacherous thing. It gives you a reason to continue, yet it can be crushed within a second. But as I chase toward the street where Cam withdrew money, I’m experiencing a shadow of faith in finding and talking to her. Hope prevails, and my rage is quelled slightly, for now.

CHAPTER 11

Camilla

It’s almost the end of the workday.

I sit in plain sight as a man in a fitted suit steps out of the BMW across the street and checks the area. I recognize one of Fat Sal’s bodyguards. His eyes scan the shops, and they pass by me behind the diner’s window. But then his head turns back to me, and a devilish victorious smile plays across his face.

I swallow and clutch my bag in my lap as he crosses the distance and opens the door to the diner. Nervousness pads my stomach, and my already deteriorating resolve wavers even more. While this morning and this afternoon, I was resolute about ending this one way or the other, now that the exact moment is here, I don’t feel bravery. Just anxiety.

What the hell am I doing?

This is a death sentence for me. I didn’t think this through because of my weariness of hiding.

Just as he enters the diner, another man steps out of the BMW.

My head whips around, and I jump up, but a hand on my shoulder pushes me back down onto the hard surface of the seat.

He bends down, and his fingers dig into my skin. I try to loosen his hold as he says in a deep voice, “Camilla Guillermo, Sal’s waiting for you. Come with me quietly. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

I follow his gaze to the other man standing in front of the window next to a short, blonde woman and her toddler. His hand is tucked inside his jacket pocket, and I can tell he’s aiming a gun at the child. I suck in a breath and rise to trail the first guy out without saying a word.

The few customers in here are oblivious.

The men flank me on either side and guide me to the car. I get into the back seat with the second guy sitting next to me.

The pressing silence is frightening while we travel the streets lined by high-rises, back to Club 7.

Drained from always looking over my shoulder, I rub my temples.

My every move is inspected, but no one restrains me.

Within an hour, we’re driving up a familiar street: the one that leads to the back entrance of Club 7 from where I escaped.

I’m not manhandled as I get out of the car. Then I’m motioned inside the building and retrace my steps back to that underground area. Purple, green, and black flash from the corner of my eyes as I walk through the hall – the one lined with the familiar Andy Warhol pop art posters.

In the elevator, I close my eyes for a second to muster up some courage.

Stay calm.

If anything, I need to know what happened to Santino and the hostess. They helped me, and there’s an urge in me to find out where they are. Refusing to think about anything else in order to block out my fear, I keep my back straight while I’m being led to Fat Sal’s office.

The suffocating scent of this underground area permeates my nose.

Behind one guard, I enter the brightly lit office and squint my eyes.

I’m stopped by my arm in front of Sal’s desk as he leans back in his chair. His mouth turns down in aversion while he scans the length of me. “Ah, the elusive Miss Guillermo.”

His rough voice sends a shudder down my body.

Sal waves a hand, ordering his two guards out, and the door behind me clicks shut.

He picks up a ruler from his desk and twirls it in between his pudgy fingers. “No hello after all this time?”

I meet his glower but stay quiet.

Sal tilts his head to the side. “You’ve been busy.” He grips the ruler when I don’t acknowledge him. “Nothing to say? Well”—he slams the ruler on the edge of his desk, startling me—“I have a lot to say to you.” And he brings his phone to his ear. “Bring in Santino.”

My eyes widen in surprise and dreaded anticipation of what I’m about to see.

“Finally, a reaction. Are you interested to know how your accomplice is?”

Of course he figured out Santino helped me; it was obvious. What has he done to him since I left so long ago?

“I was very surprised to find you gone that night. You were a star attraction,” he mocks. “But I didn’t give you enough credit. Either you or Santino did manage to cover your tracks.”

That must’ve been Santino’s doing.

“It took me a while to figure out, though. I’m guessing he stopped your dosage, didn’t he?” he probes with a snide smile.

He did stop administering heroin, which led me to be lucid enough to run.

Sal continues, “I wonder what salacious things happened between the two of you. You are more underhanded than you appear, beautiful Camilla. You know how to use your feminine wiles to disarm men. It was why I didn’t kill you on the spot when you were dumb enough to enter my underground club without permission.” Annoyance starts to override his cool conduct.

I continue to stand uneasily in front of the desk, clutching my bag in my hands, not moving a muscle.

The door creaks open, and I turn, gasping in horror.

The two guards have returned with Santino squashed between them, his face hanging down. His abused body barely moves. His bare chest is blemished with red lines, welts, and blood.

Slowly, he raises his head and looks at me with bloodshot eyes. “Camilla.”

Sal did this to him because he helped me.

“Look what you did to him, Cam,” Sal sneers and gets out of his chair.

I finally crack. “
You
did this to him!”

“Oh, it talks,” Sal jokes and stands next to me.

I hold my ground but cringe when he takes a fistful of Santino’s hair and jerks his head back.

“Say hello to your girlfriend,” he commands with a scorching glare. “It’s such a shame. He’s a good bodyguard, but even he wasn’t immune to your pussy, apparently, which brings me to my point. You’re a desirable lady, and I have a special client for you.”

“No!” I take a few steps back and hit the desk. A client to do what? Beat me? Have sex with me?

“Yes. You will meet him, give him what he paid for, and then come back here. If you speak even one word to him”—he chokes Santino with his bare hand, making him splutter blood—“I’ll torture Santino however I see fit for one minute.” He tightens his fingers and lifts his brows, waiting for an answer while a man is being choked to death in front of me.

Sweat forms on my forehead. “Yes! Okay.”

He releases Santino, who painfully gulps for air.

Dampness pools in my eyes.

“Good girl.” Sal rounds his desk and resumes his place behind it. He points to the flat screen monitor in front of him. “I’ll be watching every second. One word will cost him one minute of torture.”

The two guards force Santino into a chair, and I can see he’s fighting to stay conscious.

“I’m warning you, if you even dare to ask for help, I’ll kill Santino and bring you back to the fight club. If you obey, I have a proposition for you afterward. One that will grant you and Santino freedom.”

Astounded, I watch him. He’s playing a game and has written all the rules. All I can do is oblige, for Santino’s and my own safety.

“Take her to the other room,” he orders one guard then says to me, “Remove your clothes in the bathroom and wait until your client enters.”

I’m heaved out of the room and escorted into a private chamber, toward the adjoining bathroom.

“Thirty seconds to wear that robe, then come back out.” And to my surprise, he shuts the door, permitting me privacy.

Jumping into action – afraid that any delay will cause Sal to harm Santino – I strip my jeans, shirt, and underwear and tuck my arms into a blue kimono.

Inhaling a deep breath, I turn the knob and freeze in the doorway when I discover that the client is already inside, trapping me with a distinguishable stare.

“It’s been a long time, Cam,” Adriano says.

He’s exactly as I remember him: unshaven, his jet black hair in disarray, as if he’d recently dragged his fingers through the shiny layers. Only, he’s looking at me without his signature smirk. In his black button-up and dress pants, he radiates authority and sex. A flush of scarlet creeps up Adriano’s collar to his temples.

I swallow, not sure if he wants to strangle me or kiss me.

My heart quickens.

It’s been nine months since I last saw him, and there’s a force that pulls me to him.

Elation, sadness, and confusion set in. Elation and sadness because of our past. Confusion as to why he’s my client.

Is Adriano connected to the fight and sex club? What game are Sal and Adriano playing? Have they joined forces?

Panic sets in – I’m being thrown into a game and am unaware of all the rules.