Revenge (49 page)

“You won’t have to. I’ll buy you one.”

Ruggero smiled. “In that case, I’ll make sure
we survive.”

Enrico returned the smile, surprised he
could. “And just think what would’ve happened if a car wasn’t on
the line?”

They were interrupted by a beep from the
phone Enrico was using to monitor the position of the GPS tracking
devices. One of the trackers was now stationary, the other in
motion. Dom must have found one. He probably thought he was clever,
throwing them off the trail. But he hadn’t counted on Ruggero, who
tried never to leave anything to chance.

None of them knew where they were going. If
Carlo had a house in this location, it was news to them. Enrico
made a mental note to increase surveillance of the Andrettis.
Clearly they had missed something crucial. He had expected this
confrontation to take place somewhere in the industrial heart of
Milan, not in the hills above the lake.

He picked up the phone and called the other
two cars, updating them on what had happened. He hoped Dom knew
about only the one tracker, that this wasn’t some elaborate
misdirection. If it was, they’d never find Dom. Or Kate.

Enrico tried to settle back against the
leather seat, adrenaline creating a physical discomfort that
plagued him. He itched to do
something
, anything, other than
sit in this car and feel his heart race and his stomach churn. What
was Carlo doing to Kate? The boy in the barrel sprang immediately
to mind.

His father had told him that back in
Calabria, in the early days, Carlo had tortured the
thirteen-year-old son of a Camorra boss who’d tried to muscle in on
Andretti territory. Carlo had killed the boy using acid and an
acetylene torch, then left the boy’s body in a barrel on his
father’s front step. That act had earned Carlo his exile from
Calabria and had forced him up north.

Carlo was a monster.

When Enrico pictured what his father had
endured before death, his stomach lurched and rolled, his last meal
threatening to come back up.

Don Battista had called Carlo a rabid dog,
but he’d gone well past that. He’d thought Rinaldo’s murder
through, he’d planned it, he’d savored it. And now…

Now he had Kate.

Dread gnawed at Enrico’s belly. He had to
save her, he had to reach her before it was too late. “Can we go
any faster?”

Ruggero shook his head. “We run the risk with
this”—he tapped Enrico’s phone—“of overtaking him. It updates every
ten seconds, but we’re moving fast.” He looked over at Enrico.
“We’ll get there in time.”

Per favore
,
Dio
,
let Ruggero
be right
.

Kate woke up in a bedroom. She assumed she
was inside the large stone house she’d glimpsed when she and Dom
had pulled up. Her head hurt and her chest ached where she’d been
shot during the ambush. She took a deep breath and tested her
limbs. Nothing seemed to be broken.

“At last,
mia cara
, you are awake.”
The voice was cool, dry, the accent a blend of British and Italian.
And it made her skin crawl.

She rose up on her elbows. Carlo was standing
at the other end of the room, next to the fireplace. The room had a
rustic feel, all stone and exposed beams, as if it were part of a
hunting lodge. Perhaps it was. And she was the prey.

Carlo started toward her. Her belly filled
with writhing eels, the adrenaline that had fueled her earlier
attempts at escape surging through her again. She trembled with it,
unsure what to do. Her eyes flitted around the room, seeking the
exits. There was a window to her right, a door to her left, another
door to her far left, closest to Carlo.

Which one led out of the room? Would it be
safe to jump out the window? How high up was she? She could see the
tops of tree branches, which led her to believe she was at least on
the second floor. Did the house have a third floor?

Scrambling up, she swung her legs over the
edge of the bed, but the room spun around her before she could get
to her feet. She groaned and swallowed hard, trying not to vomit.
Carlo stopped at the foot of the bed and rested a hand on the iron
bed frame. He puffed on a cigar, the heavy aromatic smoke rising in
wisps around his head. “I would not move too quickly if I were you.
Massimo was perhaps too enthusiastic when he subdued you.”

Kate touched her temple, probing a large bump
under the skin, making herself wince.

He motioned to a pitcher of water and a glass
on the bedside table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes.” She wondered at the rawness of her
voice. It must be from the screaming. She poured herself a glass,
taking a few sips, her eyes on him the whole time.

“Better? Perhaps you should have some more.”
Her stomach dropped. How could she have been so stupid? “You see I
am not such a bad man, yes?” He advanced toward her, and she shrank
away from him, setting down the glass. What was in the water? He
frowned. “I see Lucchesi has filled your head with filthy stories
about me.”

“I’m sure they’re true.”

He waved the hand holding the cigar in the
air, the smoke making half circles as he spoke. “Think,
mia
cara
. How many times has he lied to you?” He watched her face.
“More than he has told the truth, I suspect.”

“He had to lie. At least some of the
time.”

“To
protect
you, yes? That is how he
would like you to think. But he lies to protect himself.” He took a
long draw on the cigar, then let the smoke out through his nose and
mouth. “Did you actually believe he would allow you to go, once you
knew who he was? He will kill you to protect himself. That is the
kind of man he is.”

Kate avoided his eyes. She’d thought the same
thing. Except that even Dom didn’t believe Enrico would harm her.
Dom believed Enrico was a fool, not a killer. “He would never hurt
me.”

“Perhaps not while you carry his child. But
if you were to persist in this notion of leaving him….”

Kate shivered, then her face flushed and her
skin burned with heat. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. She looked
up at Carlo, going cold again when the head movement almost made
her swoon. “Something’s wrong.” She couldn’t keep her voice
steady.

“Relax. I have given you something to make
you more… cooperative.”

Kate looked at the pitcher, then clutched her
hands over her belly. “What?”

He smiled. “Remember when I said I did not
care for my nephew’s methods? I was not lying. I want you to be
willing.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would I
ever
be willing for you?”

He pointed to her abdomen. “To save the
child.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway.”

“Perhaps all I want is to humiliate you. And
to use you to get what I really want.”

“Which is?”

“The death of Enrico Lucchesi.”

She studied him. “Why wouldn’t you kill
me?”

He frowned. “Killing women and children is…
distasteful. Weak.”

“You killed Enrico’s mother and her two
sons.”

Carlo’s face stiffened. “Roaches have to be
eradicated.”

Keep him talking
. “You married your
daughter to a roach?”

He flicked the ash of his cigar on the stone
floor. “Rinaldo was holding my son captive. He sent me his finger
as proof. What else was I supposed to do? Wait for his head to
arrive?”

Was that how Enrico would get her back? As a
head in a box? She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat.
“You swear you won’t kill me?”

Carlo smiled. “I am a man of my word.”

“Then swear it.”

“I will not kill you.”

“Or my baby.”

He tilted his head to the side, studying her.
“I cannot swear the drug is safe for the child.”

“What did you give me?” Her head felt
strange, and a completely unwarranted sense of calm came over her.
Warmth spread through her limbs.

He smiled. “It is called Rohypnol.” He sat
down on the bed next to her. “No more questions. Just do what I
say, and you and the baby will be safe.”

He’d given her the date-rape drug. She tried
to focus on him, to focus on why she should get up, run away. Her
limbs felt like lead. She fell back on the bed.
No
!
Get
up
!

“Yes,” he murmured. “Just lie back and be
quiet.”

Yes, that’s what she should do. Enrico might
never find her. It was best to earn Carlo’s trust, to cooperate.
She wouldn’t be able to escape with this drug in her system
anyway.

He pulled a cell phone from his jacket
pocket. “First, we must call Lucchesi. To assure him you are still
alive.” He pressed a few buttons, then held the phone close to her
mouth.

“Rico! It’s a trap! I’m in the woods—”

Carlo cut her off by pressing a button.
“That’s enough.”

She frowned. “You’re not going to speak to
him?”

He smiled. “I recorded you. For later. You
might not be in a condition to talk then.” She shuddered, her
stomach clenching. He paused. “I mean from the drug,
mia
cara
. I promised not to kill you.”

Cold blasted through her body. He
was
going to kill her. And Enrico would be too late to save her.
Somehow she had to stay awake, she had to fight the drug. And she
had to fool Carlo into thinking she’d cooperate. How long before
she was unconscious? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?

He set his cigar in the cut crystal ashtray
next to the pitcher, then leaned over her. She smelled the smoke on
his breath and hoped the drug would block her memory of what was
coming. She didn’t want to recall this. If she lived through
it.

He kissed her cheek, then tried to kiss her
lips. When she turned her head away, he grabbed her jaw, forcing
her back. She ignored the kiss, just focused on breathing, staying
still. Not fighting. The drug urged her to let go, to lie back and
sleep.
Stay awake. Keep thinking
. There had to be a way.
There had to be.

“
Mia cara
,” he whispered. “I want this
to be nice.” She closed her eyes. That was what Rico called her.
Tears hovered beneath her eyelids.

Carlo’s hands slipped down to cup her
breasts, and she stiffened in revulsion. “When I first saw you, you
stole my breath. You were so
bellisima
, so exquisite.” He
kissed her lips again. “I dreamed of the day I could have you.”

She kept her eyes shut.
This isn’t
happening. This isn’t happening
.

He slid a hand underneath her blouse, his
fingers playing across the lace of her bra. “So
bellisima
.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him,
seeing the glaze of lust on his face, in his eyes. He was not
paying as close attention to her now. That could be useful. “Remove
your clothes,” he said. He stood up to allow her to undress, and
she scooted herself up to the pillows at the top of the bed. Now
she was closer to the pitcher and the ashtray, both potential
weapons.

Kate pulled off her top, revealing a black
lacy bra. His eyes latched on to her breasts. “More,” he said, his
voice little more than a whisper.

She lay back down. “You do it. I’m too
tired.”

He stripped off his suit jacket and leaned
over her. She moved her right arm up to the head of the bed,
seemingly out of his way. But closer to the ashtray, closer to the
burning cigar.

As he kissed the swells of her breasts, her
fingers inched nearer to the ashtray. It was difficult to
concentrate. She just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep.

Her fingers touched the ashtray, the crystal
cool and hard beneath her fingers. She looked down at Carlo. He was
too absorbed in kissing her, touching her, to notice. She risked a
glance at her target. Carefully, she closed her fingers around the
cigar.
Got it.
With a triumphant surge, she shoved the
cigar’s burning coal into the side of Carlo’s neck.

He roared in pain and jumped off her. She
threw the lit cigar at his face. Clumsily, she dashed toward the
far door, hoping it led out of the room.
Almost there
. The
door slammed open and two men poured in, guns drawn. One of them
was Dario, Carlo’s son. The other was the man who’d hit her in the
forest. Massimo, that’s what Carlo had called the mountain of a man
who stood before her. Both men stared at her chest, and she tried
to dodge around them, but Dario caught her by the arm and yanked
her close.

“Father, what are you doing?” he asked.

Carlo pressed a hand to the burn on his neck.
“Get out and leave us alone.”

Dario put himself between Kate and Carlo. “We
did not come here so you could force yourself on Vincenzo’s
wife.”

“She’s not his wife any longer. She made sure
of that.”

“No doubt he deserved it.” He stared at Carlo
for a moment. “I know you were thinking of replacing me with
him.”

Carlo shook his head. “You are my son.”

Dario laughed. “As if that counts. You have
never respected me.”

“That does not mean I do not want you to be
capo
.”

“You do not trust me with it. Admit it.
Vincenzo was much more like you. Much more… vicious. Like one of
your precious dogs.”

Carlo opened his mouth, about to say
something, but was interrupted by the sweetest sound Kate had ever
heard—a burst of automatic machine gun fire.

Enrico’s men regrouped at the turnoff
indicated by the GPS tracking log. Dom was gone—Enrico’s phone
showed him headed back to the lake, presumably going home. They
would have to catch up with him later. His main priority was saving
Kate. And getting Antonio out of the line of fire.

They waited for Antonio, Paolo, and Tommaso
to pull up. Claudio and Santino were already there, both conferring
with Ruggero. Enrico and Ruggero had decided to split forces, three
and three. They had no idea what they were walking into, how many
men they faced. It was best not to go in as one team.