Chapter One
MASSIMO
“They’re going to kill him, Massimo! You’re the only one who can save him!”
My chest tightens, the stench of rotting corpses causing a roiling sensation in my gut as my best friend’s sister screeches into my ear. I creep toward the dilapidated building with my phone clenched in my hand, sidestepping large water rats that line the uneven and cracked concrete.
Darkness swoops over me, the only light guiding a path littered with unknowns.
Mainly ones that can get me and Joey killed.
A swell of terror crashes over me like an all-consuming wave ready to sweep me over the threshold of hell. I take a deep breath, pulling open the heavy metal door and stepping into the desolate warehouse on West Street in Greenwich Village.
“I’m gonna get him back, Cari,” I mutter.
“Just be careful,” she weeps. “I told him this would happen!”
I grit my teeth. There’s no sense in rehashing what landed him in this shit hole.
We all know who snatched him and why.
The ‘who’ is Eddie Lugo, sadistic pig and dredge of lower Manhattan.
He also happens to be a huge player in sex and drug trafficking, a guy you don’t want to cross or else he’ll slice you up like carpaccio.
And the ‘why’ is because Joey made the fucking dumbass decision to fuck Eddie’s wife in the back of his truck the other night.
Lugo stormed the Napolitano family’s house at dinnertime, etched his wife’s initials into Joey’s chest with a steak knife, and then dragged him out of the house by his throat.
Nobody could stop him. And I know that must have been especially devastating to Joey’s father, who is confined to a wheelchair and paralyzed from the waist down.
I got the call from Cari as soon as Lugo’s Escalade pulled away from the curb outside their house.
When Lugo left Cari with the warehouse address, he told her to make sure it got into my hands or else Joey would have a hell of a lot more than a set of initials carved into his chest.
“I’ll call when I have him.” I click to end the call, sticking my phone into my pocket. The noxious smell of turpentine assaults my nostrils when I walk inside the warehouse. I see a light at the end of a short hallway and stretch out my arms, my gun clenched tight in my hands as I inch closer to loud voices speaking in rapid Italian.
I never learned the language, so I have no clue what the hell they’re saying, but I can guess it ain’t good.
Not for me and definitely not for Joey.
My pulse slams against my throat, the smell getting stronger with every step closer I get to the room. It chokes me, slowly and agonizingly until I can barely draw in a breath.
“Massimo!” Eddie’s voice bellows when I step into the doorway, ricocheting off the cinderblock walls. His massive body blocks my view, his thick lips curling into a demonic grin. “You made it. Now let’s see if Joey will.” He steps aside, a low, menacing chuckle reverberating between my ears.
“You motherfucker,” I growl, stalking toward him with the gun pointed right between his eyes.
“Careful, Massimo,” he warns. “If you shoot me, there are ten guys right behind you who will inflict the worst kind of torture imaginable on you and your scumbag friend here.” He whirls around, pointing a finger at Joey. “See, this is what happens when you fuck a boss’s wife. You get tied up by your balls and carved up like a goddamn Thanksgiving turkey!” He takes a deep breath. “Do you smell that? It’s Joey’s new cologne. Turpentine. All I need to do is light this fucking match and he gets incinerated while you watch.”
I look past Lugo, Joey’s tortured expression making my heart hammer in my chest.
So much fucking blood.
His chest is bare and sliced up like he was attacked by Freddy Krueger and Edward Scissorhands at the same time. His skin is drenched in flammable liquid, his arms handcuffed to the wall behind him.
“What do you want, Lugo?” I drop the gun because I know I’m fucked if I so much as slide my finger over the trigger.
“It’s not what I want,” he says, holding out a phone to me. “It’s what he wants.”
I grab the phone with one hand, my blood icing in my veins. “Who the hell is this?” I grunt through gritted teeth.
And then his voice invades my ears, the sound raking over my prickled flesh. Toxic memories I’ve long since buried bubble to the surface like hot molten lava ready to spew.
“Hello, Massimo. I think it’s time we finally bury the hatchet. And if you’re not careful with your response, I’m gonna use that hatchet to split open Joey’s skull.”
Chapter Two
KRISTINA
ONE WEEK LATER
“Listen, Nick. I know the timing is bad, but what am I supposed to do? I swear, first thing Monday morning we’re going to cut the guy open and slice up his heart like it’s freaking carpaccio.”
I grip the steering wheel tight, my eyes scouting the sidewalks to the left and right of my BMW 535i. With all the kids living in this neighborhood, I’m always ready for one of them to dart out into the road without looking.
My lips press together in a tight line as I creep slowly down the street.
The glamorous cars and fancy estate homes give the impression that bad things can never breach the invisible barrier surrounding them, but I know firsthand how easily and quickly tragedy can strike at the very core of this perceived perfect world.
Again.
My lab partner Nick lets out a frustrated sigh. When Dr. Chambers paired us together for the semester, I realized that I’d found a soulmate, although not the kind I’d ever want to spend the rest of my life with. Hooking up after late-night study sessions to let off steam is one thing. And it probably won’t go any farther than that because we’re only a month into this semester and I already feel like I want to choke Nick every time his pinched face shows up at my dorm room door.
Sure, he may resemble a young Eric Dane from the early days of Grey’s Anatomy, one of my very favorite bingeworthy shows. And at first, I was thrilled with the pairing. But when we started working together? Good Lord, to say he is an infuriating perfectionist and know-it-all is a gross understatement.
And that’s me being diplomatic.
But I guess with every challenge comes clarity.
I can remember my sister Sofia citing those very same characteristics when talking about me.
And there was nothing complimentary about them.
So I make a conscious choice right then and there to turn over a new leaf and transform myself into calm, cool, and collected Kristina, at least for the duration of the weekend.
I can pick up with my slightly neurotic and tightly wound alter ego once I get back to med school.
“I guess I have no choice,” he grumbles.
“Look at it this way. He’s not going anywhere. He’s well-preserved. And he has nothing better to do than wait.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” I stifle a giggle because who knew I’d ever be the comedic type? I decide to embrace the new me and all her quipster tendencies, at least for the foreseeable future. “Stop stressing. We will get the lab report done fast. This last step will take no time at all.”