Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Anya

T he delicious birthday cake turns sour in my stomach. Acid burns my gut.

I’m going to be sick.

I barely make it to the bathroom before the food pushes up in my throat. Falling on my knees in front of the toilet, I empty my stomach.

“Anya,” Saverio says behind me, his voice gravelly and distraught.

He grips my hair in a ponytail at my nape, keeping it away from my face while I puke out my lungs. Spasms rack my body until only bile is left.

His palm is warm on my shoulder. Anchoring. “I’ll find her. I promise you that.”

Sitting back on my heels, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My chest heaves from the exertion. I’m simultaneously weak from vomiting and wired from the adrenaline. “Do you think it was my mom?”

“I know it was her.”

It takes enormous effort to lift my head and look at my husband. At the same time, I’m like a coiled spring, ready to jump to my feet and go searching for my daughter. “How can we be sure? Anyone could’ve said she was my mother.”

He shows me his phone. “I got the video feed from the security cameras.”

The proof is right there, staring me in the face from the screen of his phone.

Fear plunges me into a deep, dark, frightening place. The stress is like a monster eating me alive from the inside out. “I have to find her.”

I want her back. I want her back now . I won’t be able to breathe or think or live until I do.

I’m going to look for her, and I won’t stop until I find her, not for food or water or sleep or a shower, no matter how long it takes.

Determination gives me strength. I flush the toilet and push to my feet. Saverio takes my hand to help me. I walk on autopilot to the basin and rinse my mouth.

Saverio squirts toothpaste onto my toothbrush and hands it to me. “Brush your teeth, my love. You’ll feel better.”

A memory of him doing that for me when I was sick during my pregnancy with Claire jumps to mind. Tears burn at the back of my eyes. The breakdown lingers behind the pressure building there. It will only take one tear to unleash the torrent.

Saverio presses a gentle kiss on my neck. “Be strong. There will be time for that later.”

For crying. To fall apart.

He’s right. I straighten my spine and grip the edge of the basin for balance. I think I may fall over if I don’t hold on to something.

My tone is hard and unforgiving because there’s no forgiving this. Ever. “How did my mom get in?”

His expression darkens. “That’s what I’m going to find out. I’m about to interrogate the guards. Will you be all right?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Go.” When he doesn’t budge, I say, “Do what you must. I’ll be fine.”

He hovers for another second, but then he turns around and leaves.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the haunted woman in front of me. The urge to scream at the injustice is enormous. My worry is a cancer that eats me alive. Is Claire frightened? Is she crying? Is she hungry? Cold? My mom never cared if I was hungry, cold, or scared. She’s not going to soothe my baby. The thought torments me with a pain much worse than a physical blow. I’d rather take a forked spike through my stomach than stand here and not know if my baby is all right.

Why did my mom take her? For ransom? Where did she take her? My mom couldn’t have gotten far, but every second we waste is a second my baby is taken farther away from us. I won’t allow that. I can’t.

I look down at my hand in which I still clutch the toothbrush. Mechanically, I brush my teeth. I don’t bother with rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth. I drop the toothbrush in the basin and walk to the safe in the dressing room.

“Anya,” Livy says, coming up behind me just as I open the safe and take out my gun.

I check that it’s loaded.

“What are you doing?” Livy exclaims.

I get to my feet and grab the first coat my hand falls on. “I’m going to look for my mom.”

She raises her palms in a gesture meant to stop me. “Saverio is handling it.”

“I’m not going to sit around and wait for someone to do something.” I push my arms into the sleeves. “Claire is my responsibility. I’m going to get her back.”

Nicole enters as I grab my bag with my car keys from the vanity.

“Jesus,” she says, laying a hand on her forehead. “What are you doing with that gun?”

“Go get Sav or Dante,” Livy says in an urgent tone.

Nicole darts from the room.

I drop the gun in my bag and throw the strap over my shoulder. When I get to the door, Dante blocks my way. Nicole stands behind him, wringing her hands.

“Step aside,” I say through gritted teeth.

He stands like a wall of concrete in front of me. “Where are you going?”

I ball my hands into fists. “To look for my baby.”

He crosses his arms. “Do you even know where to start? What’s your plan? Driving up and down the streets alone in the dark with Raphael out there somewhere?”

I push him. Hard. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

He doesn’t move an inch. “Sav got the license plate of the car your mother left in. Every one of our informants in and off the force is on the lookout for that car. We’re pulling the street cameras via our contact as we speak. It’s a matter of minutes before we know where she is.”

“Don’t you get it?” I say, giving him a pitying smile. “By then it may be too late.”

“Your mother most probably took her for ransom. She’s not going to harm her.”

“You don’t know that,” I bite out.

“So you’d rather go out there and get yourself killed? How’s that going to help anyone?”

“He’s right.” Livy steps up and puts a hand on my arm. “You’re not thinking rationally. If you go out there, you’ll only give Sav two people to worry about. Let him focus on Claire.”

That gets through to me. That I understand. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to twiddle my thumbs while my psychotic and self-harming mom has my baby girl in her clutches.

“Let me through, Dante.” I narrow my eyes. “I won’t ask again.”

“Why don’t you come down to the study?” He phrases that as an invitation instead of my right. “Sav is questioning the men who let your mother onto the property while we’re tracing her car.”

I glare at him. “While we’re sitting here waiting and doing nothing, you mean.”

“We’re not doing nothing.”

“Go to Sav,” Livy urges. “Maybe the men can throw some light on what happened to give us a better understanding of the circumstances.”

Holding Dante’s gaze, I say with a stubborn lift of my chin, “Fine.”

He stands aside, letting me pass.

Nicole holds out her palm. “Give me the gun first. Dante can keep it in a safe place.”

“I’m not going to shoot anyone,” I say. “Well, not to kill them straightaway. I first want information.”

“Give her the gun,” Livy says. “You’re not yourself right now. You don’t want to do something that’ll only make matters worse, something you’ll regret later.”

As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. Sighing, I hand my bag over to Dante. He grabs the strap in one hand, staring after me as I pull the coat tighter around myself and walk to the stairs.

Rosemary still sits on the chair in the reading nook, looking frightened and scared out of her wits.

Livy, who follows behind me, asks Nicole, “Do you think the cake was drugged?”

“That’s a good guess,” Nicole says. “Sav took the plate away. He knows a guy in forensics who can run tests.”

I tilt my head toward Rosemary. “Will she be okay?”

Nicole falls into step next to me. “She’s in shock, but she doesn’t seem to be suffering from any physical injuries. She just needs a moment.”

I look back at the baby monitor that’s switched off. “The monitor was on when I got here. If Claire cried, the staff in the kitchen or the guests queuing for the bathroom would’ve heard her.” My heart aches when I ask, “Do you think my mom drugged her too?”

“She might just have slept deeply,” Nicole offers as we climb down the steps. “To be on the safe side, I want to know what your mother sneaked into that cake— if that’s the case—that knocked Rosemary out for so long. That’s why it’s vital that Sav’s contact runs those tests.”

My heart contracts into a tight ball in my chest. If my mom harmed my baby, I’ll shoot her myself.

Two guards exit the study when we arrive. They avoid eye contact, averting their gazes as they turn sideways to let us pass.

Saverio sits behind his desk. The scowl on his face gives me pause.

I slow my steps, my heels sinking into the plush carpet. “What’s wrong?”

Livy and Nicole flank me while Dante follows behind.

Instead of looking at me, Saverio catches Dante’s gaze.

“Saverio,” I say, making my voice hard.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “The man at the gate was on duty the day your mother visited you here. He said your instruction was to let her through.”

“Yes,” I say. “But that didn’t mean I gave her a free pass to come and go as she pleases.”

“The guard didn’t know that,” my husband says. “He thought you invited her to your birthday party.”

I carry on toward him. “And you simply accept that?”

“No.” A muscle ticks in his temple. “I fired him for his negligence, as I did with the man who let her leave the house.”

“With my baby,” I say, stopping in front of his desk.

“With our baby,” he corrects.

The snideness of my question is born from fear and anger. “What’s the door guard’s excuse?”

Saverio stands. “Your mother told him you asked her to take Claire to her place for the night as the noise from the party kept her awake.”

“He should’ve checked with me,” I say, choosing the anger because anything is more merciful than the paralyzing fear.

“That’s why I’ll have them escorted off the property. I’ll keep them in detention until we find her,” Saverio says, his tone grave.

They’ll be taken somewhere isolated. If we don’t find Claire, Saverio will kill them. But I can’t think like that. I have to remain positive.

Always in tune with my thoughts, Saverio repeats the same line he knows I need to hear. “We’ll find her.”

My gaze is drawn to how he leans heavier toward one side, placing his weight on his good leg. He needs his crutches.

“Do you believe them?” Nicole asks.

“They’re loyal men,” Livy says. “I’ve had the chance to talk with them on several occasions. I don’t think they’re lying.”

Dante walks into my line of vision, still holding my bag. “I agree with Liv. I don’t think they conspired with Mary. I reckon she fooled them.”

Unable to stand still, I pace the floor like a caged animal trapped on a square of expensive, woven rug. “What now? Where does that leave us?”

Saverio’s phone announces a notification.

He glances at the screen. Whatever he reads sets his features in hard lines.

“What is it?” I ask.

His voice is terse. “Our contact managed to pick up the car on a street camera. He traced it on the interstate traveling north-west.” He takes his gun from the drawer and slips it into his waistband. “It’s currently parked at a motel north of the city.”

My heart beats so hard it echoes in my temples.

“Our team is ready,” Dante says.

Saverio takes a box of bullets and empties it in his pocket. “No radical moves. I want to catch her by surprise.”

“Do you know if anyone is with her?” Livy asks.

“From what I’ve seen on the video our contact sent, she went into a room alone.” Saverio glances at me before adding with a tight jaw, “Carrying a bundle in her arms.”

A gasp catches in my throat.

“Make sure the women are protected before we go,” Saverio tells Dante.

Livy puts an arm around me, offering much-needed support. “What about the guests?”

“No one leaves until I’m back,” Saverio says. “I may want to question some of them myself.”

“Logan is trying to keep everyone calm,” Nicole says. “I’ll tell the caterers to prepare hot drinks and warm snacks.”

Saverio takes his cane and makes his way to the door. When he reaches me, I grab his arm.

“I’m coming with you.”

He looks down at me. “I want you to stay here where you’re safe.”

“She’s my baby.” My words hold a challenge. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

Not breaking our eye contact, he says, “I need a moment alone with my wife.”

Everyone scurries for the door. It closes with a click, and then we’re alone. His eyes gleam like the bluest glacier—cold and hard. The deadly intent and rage I read in them make my skin break out in goosebumps. The violence in his gaze promises torture and death. Yet his hand on my cheek is tender.

“I trust you, Anya.” He searches my face. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why I was going to give you the title of CEO of our business tonight.”

The news comes as a shock. I didn’t expect it. Under different circumstances, I would’ve been flattered. Honored. Now, all I can think about is if we’ll get to Claire in time.

He brushes a thumb along my jaw. “You’re that and so much more already.” Pride rides on his statement. “It’s about time we officialize it.”

“But?” I ask, holding my breath.

“But the problem isn’t you. It’s me.”

I stare into those otherworldly eyes that look so similar now, so different without the eyepatch. “What do you mean?”

“If I take you with me, I’m going to be focused on you because nothing can ever happen to you again.” He implores me with that steely gaze. “Do you understand?”

I do. Like Livy said, he’ll be forced to divide his attention between Claire and me, to keep both of us safe. I’ll be a distraction.

“I need you to run the show here because I have to take Dante with me,” he says in a soft voice.

Because Saverio is unstable on his legs. He needs the backup, and the only man he trusts is Dante.

“I need you to take charge of the guests and give the guards orders if necessary,” he continues. “Can you do that for me, tesoro ?”

He’s not telling me. He’s asking me. Begging me. And I find I can’t deny him. That he’s right. He doesn’t need the added burden of worrying about me on a stakeout to get our daughter back.

Wrapping my arms around him, I burrow my face in the fabric of his jacket. “Bring her home. Please.”

“I promise,” he says, giving me the same vow over and over again no matter how many times I demand it from him.

He hugs me with his free arm locked around my waist, holding me in such a fierce embrace it’s impossible to breathe. I revel in it, happily sacrificing my oxygen for the reassurance of his strong arms and the hard shape of his gun that presses against my hip.

As abruptly as he grabbed me, he sets me free. Pushing me aside is difficult for both of us. When he walks from the room, leaving me behind, we’re both hurled into the worst kind of hell.