Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Garrison

My knees knocked against the car's front dash and my elbow pressed uncomfortably into the armrest. The car wasn't big enough for me, but it had been the only one available at the rental agency on such short notice. We hadn't wanted to waste time shopping around, so I'd resigned myself to squeezing into the small space.

At least I didn't have to drive. Ghita sat behind the wheel, navigating the car that was perfectly proportioned to her size.

We'd started driving before we even knew where we were going. As we waited for Caden's contact to get back to us with answers about the wine bottle, we decided to visit one of Ghita's informants that kept track of the Bianchi family for her.

We were nearly at the New Jersey border when we finally got a call from Caden with results. To no one's surprise, Alex's wine bottle had been laced. I didn't ask too many questions about Caden's contact who'd tested the bottle for us. The less I knew about it, the better. All I cared about were answers.

"What the hell is this?" I said as I looked at the information scrolling across my phone. I'd never gone to college—I'd worked minimum wage jobs for a few years then said fuck it and joined the military when I was twenty-one—and the info on the paper didn't resemble anything from my high school chemistry class.

"I don't know," Caden's voice spoke through the phone's speaker. "My contact has never seen this drug before. Couldn't tell me anything about it."

Pulling the car over to the side of the road, Ghita grabbed the phone out of my hand. She barely had to glance at the screen.

"It's called Vibe. It was supposed to be a less addictive alternative to alcohol, but too large of a dose can knock a person out for days."

I may not know much about drugs, but even I could tell something was amiss. "That seems like a strange choice of drug to kidnap someone. Chloroform would work just as well."

"Perhaps," Ghita nodded as she handed back the phone. "But it does confirm one thing. Wanna guess who invented Vibe and controls the only supply?"

"The Bianchi family?"

With a squeal of tires and revving gears, Ghita pulled the car back onto the road. "Give the man a prize. Yep. They must be involved somehow. With any luck, they'll lead us to Alex."

We flew down the highway, heading toward the northern part of New York. As much as I wanted to storm right into the Bianchi family's home and demand Alex back, I knew that wasn't the right move. We needed to be smart about this, and charging right into our enemy's hands would only get us killed.

First, we needed information, and that was apparently Ghita's specialty. She had informants strung along the east coast that kept tabs on various powerful families for her. So, that's where we were headed, to one of her informants who specifically watched the Bianchi family. Although it would take a few hours to get there.

I hated long car trips. They gave me too much time to think. Staring out the window, cramped in a too small seat, my thoughts wandered.

The Bianchi family had plenty of influence back in Italy. It was what made them such a powerful rival to Alex's family. If they'd taken Alex overseas, it would be nearly impossible to find him. I would not only have failed as a bodyguard, but I would never see the other man again.

That thought hurt worse than I expected, and I'd known plenty of pain in my life.

No, I had to hold on to the hope that Alex was still alive and somewhere nearby. I would find him, and we'd talk. Properly this time, without fighting. Even if it resulted in the two of us parting ways for good, I would still rest easy knowing Alex was safe without me.

The hours in that car passed so slowly, I would swear the clock was moving backward. I wasn't normally a claustrophobic person, but I was going stir crazy in that little car with nothing to do but fret.

When Ghita finally brought the car to a stop, announcing we'd arrived, I was out the door before the wheels even stopped rolling. The building that stood before me was the most average looking apartment complex I'd ever seen. Even as I stared at it, I couldn't pick out a single noteworthy detail. Yet somewhere, within that boring maze of beige squares, Ghita's informant hid in plain sight.

An "Out of Order" sign hung on the elevator, so we climbed the stairs up to the third floor. Rows of identical doors were differentiated only by the numbers hanging on plaques beside each frame. Ghita knocked on the very middle door.

"Hey, Jason. It's me. Your sister. The post office sent me your mail again."

She shook her head when I flashed her a questioning look. I assumed it was some sort of code they'd worked out between them.

No answer. Ghita knocked again, and again received only silence.

"That's not good. He always answers."

Instinct tingled along the back of my neck. I tried the doorknob, and to my dismay it opened.

Definitely not good.

Pulling the gun from my hip, I told Ghita to step back and pushed the door open.

In the middle of an average looking living room, a man lay tied up on the floor. I assumed this was Jason. I had just enough time to notice that the man was alive before focusing on the other person in the room.

A man with olive skin and blond hair sat in a chair facing the door, idly twirling a butterfly knife between his fingers.

I instantly recognized him from the meeting at the aquarium.

D'Angelo Bianchi.

Upon seeing me, the Bianchi family head smiled and leaned forward so his elbows braced against his knees.

"Finally. Took you long enough."