He nods. “She’s terrified. Cried nonstop the whole trip from Montana, apparently.”
One of my PIs came through, and he found Lucille hiding out on a godforsaken ranch in Montana. It’s the second good piece of news this week. “Let’s hope that means she is ready to reveal all.” I don’t torture or kill women, but Lucille was complicit in the attack on Sierra, and if she won’t speak freely, I will inflict pain until she tells me what I need to know, and I won’t lose any sleep over it.
“Here’s the deal,” I say, pulling over a chair and placing it in front of the quivering woman. I told my men to take Lucille to the dungeon we use to house guests on purpose. I want to scare the living daylights out of her so she will readily give up what she knows. Her feet and wrists are bound to the chair she’s sitting on, and the frigid temperature has raised obvious goose bumps on her arms. The less than welcoming surroundings combined with the way her wild eyes keep darting to the torture tools lined up on the table beside me lead me to believe I’ve accomplished my aim.
Removing my jacket, I hang it off the back of the chair, deliberately letting her see the gun holster on my waist. “This can be easy or hard,” I continue, rolling the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows. “I don’t enjoy hurting women, but I will make an exception in your case, if necessary.” I drill her with a menacing look, and tears stream down her face while a trickle of urine flows down her legs. “You see, Sierra Lawson is my fiancée, and you helped the men who tried to kill her.”
“I didn’t know they were going to do that!” she shrieks. “Daddy said they wouldn’t hurt her, I swear! I really like Sierra. She is the only one who took the time to explain things to me at the center.”
“Your father made you do this?”
She nods, and her eyes dart to the torture tray again.
“What’s his name?”
She gulps, and more tears leak from her eyes. “What are you going to do to him if I tell you?” she cries.
“Your father doesn’t seem to care about your predicament, so why should you care what happens to him?” I deadpan, deliberately palming my gun.
“He’s still my father,” she whimpers.
I remove my gun from its holster, and terror skates across her face.
“Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t have a choice.”
I rest my gun on my thigh, and she audibly gulps before spewing her guts. “They were going to kill my dad if I didn’t do this. They made me apply for the job with a fake résumé, and they told me to wait for further instructions. Then they gave me stuff to put in Alesso’s coffee and Sierra’s tea, and they…they kidnapped me. Please. I didn’t want any of this,” she sobs. Snot coats her nose, and she’s a hot mess.
“His name,” I repeat, and she gives up the fight.
“Jasper Ford,” she mumbles, and I nod at Leo. He leaves the room to place the call to Phillip while I try to figure this out.
Lucille joined the center three weeks before the attack, which means the Russians knew about Sierra before the gala event. If they were planning to take her to get at me, why didn’t they go after Rowan because they must have known about him too if they had been watching her. Or was this something to do with Sierra and unconnected to me? My brain spins ideas without any answers, and I’m growing more frustrated at my inability to connect the dots. What the fuck am I missing?
“Who are they?” I ask because I don’t want to assume anything.
“The mafia. My father told me they were after him because he owed them money.”
“I need more than that,” I growl. My patience is stretched thin.
“The man my father brought me to meet was from Chicago though he did speak some words in a foreign language.”
“Russian?”
She shrugs.
“Or Italian?” I add, going with a hunch.
She shrugs again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not exactly advanced in Languages 101.”
Her flippant comment enrages me. Reaching out, I grab her around the throat. My gun slides to the floor with a thump. “Do you think this is a fucking laughing matter?” I snap, snarling at her.
She shakes her head, trembling and crying and peeing herself again.
I let her go, and her hysterical cries bounce off the walls, grating on my nerves, but I force myself to calm down. Taking my gun, I secure it in my holster and try to summon patience. She is scared, and it’s obvious she’s a pawn in a game she doesn’t understand. Sierra liked Lucille, and she wouldn’t want me to hurt her, so I slam a lid on my temper and force my tone to a more pleasant one. “I’m going to show you some photos, and I’d like you to tell me if you recognize any of these men. Okay?”
She sniffs, and her lower lip wobbles. My new temporary bodyguard, Nario—a man Leo suggested—shifts behind her, looking bored with this, and I almost miss Ciro’s grumpy face. Nario is one of our most brutal soldiers, and he’s bloodthirsty. Leo has had to rein him in a few times with close calls. We thought he would be a good fit to take over until Ciro gets out of the hospital because he is vicious, so he’ll protect me well, but I thought I could teach him a lesson too. To show him there is more to this business than killing. Yet I can already tell he’s a lost cause and I should probably cut him loose.
Extracting my cell, I run with my hunch, opening a file on Chicago and The Outfit, scrolling to the images. I kneel beside her, and she flinches, her cries getting louder again. “Calm down,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to show you these men, and you let me know if any of them are the man you met with your father.”
I scroll through them one at a time, growing more disheartened as we move through the photos and there is no flash of recognition.
“Wait!” she screeches. “Go back to the previous picture.”
I swipe left, and my breath catches in my throat as I stare at the familiar face. “Him,” she says. “That’s the man who told me to do it.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” I ask as Leo returns to the room.
“One hundred percent. That’s him. That’s the man who tried to kill Sierra.”
49
BEN
I sip my bourbon, looking at my watch for the umpteenth time since the plane took off, wondering why the flight from New York to Chicago feels like it’s taking forever instead of the usual two hours. My foot taps anxiously on the floor, and I’m strung as tight as a cello.
I spoke to Sierra before we boarded the plane to reassure myself she and Rowan were okay. I wanted to tell her my discovery, but I don’t want to freak her out either. Leo spoke with Ian and Alessandro, so they know to be on their guard. I’m probably overreacting, but this has shaken me to my core.
“If you are right, this changes everything,” Leo says, propping his elbows on the table.
“I know, but it’s the most logical conclusion. I can’t believe he’s been under our nose this entire time.” I bark out a laugh. “You’ve got to hand it to him. It’s a stroke of genius.” I don’t have all the missing pieces, and I know the other four dons are a little skeptical of my reasoning, but they didn’t stop me from confronting Lawson.