“Whew,” the other guy whistles. “What do you think, sweet cheeks? Are you worth a measly million to your pops?”
I hold my head up high, doing my best to stop my nerves. My family is worth ten times that. Now all I can do is hope my dad gives them what they want.
“Probably not. Did you know he wouldn’t even give in when your boyfriend tried to work him?”
“W-what?” I stutter and turn toward his voice.
He chuckles. “Wow, you really don’t know what goes on around you, do you?”
He stops talking, then there is a low scraping sound, almost as if someone is dragging something across the carpet. Next, I feel something against my knee and soon realize he’s taking a seat in front of me. I only know because I hear the way he grunts and feel a slight breeze when he sits.
“So your boyfriend—Easton, right? He and his brother tried blackmailing your father. Twenty percent of his business or the brother will do unspeakable things to you. They had to beat him senseless before he’d agree. Like, the old bastard actually looked at pictures of his precious daughter—you look really good naked by the way. But as I was saying, he saw the photos, and when given the opportunity to choose between you and his money…I’m sorry to tell you, sweetie, but he chose money.”
“No. He wouldn’t do that,” I say, more for my own beliefs than theirs.
We fight. Barely speak. But at the end of it all, I’m his little girl, and he’d never betray me like this. They’re lying, saying whatever they can to get under my skin—to taunt me.
For the next several hours I sit silently, letting what he shared sink deep into my mind. It can’t be true. I’ve never talked to Easton about my family, hell, we’ve never really talked about anything. Why would he blackmail my dad? How would he even know who he is?
I tell myself over and over that my father will rescue me. He’ll give them the money, he’ll put my life above his work for once. But the clock ticks, and with every passing moment I feel my grip on faith and hope slipping away. Every time one of my captors asks, Any word? or Did he send it? I lose my breath.
There’s a sigh coming from the other side of the room. “This is unfortunate, sweetheart. It’s three-o-five. Seems like Daddy doesn’t care about you after all.”
I flinch at the sound of a gun cocking. “Please. Don’t—”
I start to beg but am interrupted by a loud crack. A rush of cold air sweeps over me, and I think it’s the door. Someone kicked it open. I get my answer when I hear two muffled gunshots, as if they are using one of those silencer attachments, and the sound of Easton’s voice.
A pair of hands fiddle with the ropes that bind me to the chair. I recognize his scent first, relief hitting me in waves. But it’s hearing his voice that drives it all home.
“I got you, amore.”
Chapter Eighteen
Easton
I grab Barron by his biceps and yank him into my shop. Quickly, I lock the door and turn back to face him. “What?”
I can’t even be sure I heard him right. I need him to repeat himself—to tell me my suspicion all along was right. Arloe is gone, and it isn’t by her own doing…or my father’s.
He rubs his hand over the light stubble coating his chin as he surveys the glass cases in the front of my store. “After you paid me a visit, I was pissed, to say the least. I talked to a lawyer friend of mine, and he put me in touch with men like you—other criminals.” He paces the room. “I told them what happened and said I wanted the papers I signed back so you wouldn’t have access. They assured me they would help, so I came here to get Arloe away before things went bad.”
I lift a finger to silence him. “How do you know they have her?”
He pulls his cell phone from his breast pocket, unlocks it, and turns it to me.
We have your daughter. We aren’t stupid enough to fuck with the Ciccones, so if you want her back, unharmed, you’ll wire one million dollars to this off-shore account.
I rub my temples and jerk the phone from his hold to get a closer look at the message and banking details. After shoving it into my pocket, I grab him by the lapels of his suit. “How could you be so fucking stupid. If the other day wasn’t warning enough, trust that what I do to you once I fix this shit will get my message across loud and clear.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Just help me. Please.”
His face falls in defeat, and it takes me back to the night at his house. He isn’t here because he wants to ask me for help, he’s here because he has no other choice. I don’t know exactly what issues he and Arloe have, but the pictures lining his hall are proof he does love her and he’s as worried as me.
I release him with a sigh and ask another question. “How did you find me?”
“You gave me your name. It wasn’t hard to do a Google search and figure out you owned this place.”
I bite my lip and turn away, doing my best not to pound in his face. “I swear if they’ve hurt her, I won’t hold back on you.”
When I stare back at him, he’s shaking his head. “You’re the one who put her in this position, not me. You’re the one who tried to use her as leverage.”
“She was never leverage to me. I fucking care about her.”
The lids of his eyes lower in defense. “My daughter will never be with someone like you.”
I scoff. “She already is whether you like it or not.”
I exit my store and make it back to my car, but Barron’s shouting stops me.
“You’re just going to leave me here?” he yells with his arms extended to his sides in disbelief.
I open my door. “You’ve done enough already. Let me, the criminal, do what I do best.”
For the second time today, I drive through the gates at my father’s house. I’ve been trying to think of a way to suck up my pride and apologize for the entire drive here, but I’ve come up empty. Ciccones don’t apologize, and we surely don’t ask for fucking help, but here I am… Back to doing both.
My version of both anyway.
I put my vehicle in park then step out. My shoes crunch over the gravel as I walk to the steps, and I swear the sound is louder than ever. Every step, every beat my heart makes, the creaking of the door when I open it. All of it is so fucking loud. I can feel the blood rushing through my veins and hear it pounding in my ears. I’m doing my best to keep my composure, but someone took something that belongs to me, and it has me on edge.
“Easton.” Alfredo bows next to me as I enter.
“Where’s Dad?”
His brows furrow with concern. “The kitchen. Everything okay?”
I give him a curt nod then start toward the kitchen without answering him. I don’t have time to explain shit more than once, and I don’t need to hear him voice his concern right now.
When I step into the kitchen, I don’t bother with a greeting or anything else. “I need Jude.”
My father looks up from his plate, still chewing the last bite he took of his sandwich. He wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin then moves his eyes to mine. “Well, it’s a shame you’ve basically disowned us then, isn’t it?”