Chapter Fourteen

Stefano

Scorching heat burned in my chest. I sucked in sharp breaths but couldn't quell the rush of adrenaline firing through my veins. Ninety minutes had passed since Celine had been taken. Ninety minutes with the woman who'd killed my father. Ninety minutes too long with the cunt who wanted me dead. This time she'd taken the one thing I couldn't live without.

I paced the floor in Emilio's office. His fingers worked furiously across the keyboard, pulling in surveillance from the building and the bank.

"Is there anything else on her phone?" Carmine had found it on the street on the north side of the building. The screen and components had been shattered by traffic. Emilio downloaded information from the sim card and retrieved the text messages from Giada.

Emilio lifted Giada's phone off his desk. "I can't track her either. She left without it."

"What the fuck can you do? Emilio, they have Celine. If this is about us—about me—what the fuck do you think they're going to do to her?" Saying the words burned, wrapping my chest in barbed wire.

"I've monitored her calls for weeks. Nothing. Whatever Giada's doing and whoever she's doing it with, they're coordinating on a separate device."

"Get me names and addresses of everyone Giada's had contact with for the last month."

Knots twisted my gut. I walked out of his office. One person knew more than he was saying. I'd spent the morning getting information on Patrick, Briofagan, and Byrne's connection with Giada.

The fucker wouldn't break when it came to Isaak Karas or Celine. If he wasn't going to talk, he was useless to me.

The door popped open. Anna was breathless. "The police are here. They're looking for Celine."

"Fuck." I stormed from the room. Anna followed.

"Stef, I'm scared. Why would Giada take Celine? She doesn't have anything to do with family business."

"I know." I kissed her forehead. "Come with me. I'll meet with the police, but Byrne knows where she is. If I don't break him—"

"I'm here for whatever you need."

"Emilio is running a search on the license plate for the black sedan." We stepped into the elevator.

Anna rested a hand on my arm. "A black sedan? Stef, when we were in her studio, she'd thought she'd seen the same car circling the building. It was a black sedan. I could barely make out the man driving but maybe the cameras picked up something more."

"Go back to Emilio. Have him pull the footage."

I rode the elevator down to the lobby. "Gentlemen," I said of the two officers. "What can I help you with?"

"We're looking for Celine Byrne."

"I haven't seen her since this morning." I hadn't seen her since I'd left her in her studio with my cum dripping down her thighs, her skin flushed, and a promise of a life together on her lips. I didn't make promises I couldn't keep. Time spent giving a fuck about her father was time wasted when Byrne was in the basement.

"We understand she's living with you."

"You've been misinformed." She was but I wouldn't be able to produce her until I found her. And I didn't trust cops. I couldn't work if I had their attention focused on me. "She has stayed with me. However, she hasn't officially moved in yet. Her belongings are either at her husband's home or her father's."

"Her father is deceased. The media is going to report on the death of the district attorney. We'd like to notify her and her husband first." The officer casually clasped his hands in front of him. "We're attempting to locate her husband."

The second officer stepped forward. "We understand you've had grievances with both her husband and her father. But then your family seems to settle their grievances without law enforcement's help."

Of the two officers, one seemed to want to tread carefully, the other was a dick. I noted the name over his badge. "Officer Fisher, we've never met, but I assure you, any grievance I've had with the district attorney has been well documented." I spoke with a veiled threat hiding in my tone. I slid my hands into the pockets of my trousers.

"And her husband?"

"I haven't seen him, but I suspect he's pissed I'm fucking his wife."

"It's important we speak to Celine." The first officer handed me a card. "Please have her contact us."

"When I hear from her, I'll let her know you're looking for her. Check with Marie. She's family to Celine and her father."

"Don't you want to know how he died?" Fisher asked.

"I'm not in the habit of asking police for information."

"He blew his brains out. Would that fall into your line of work? Maybe you know something about what might have caused him to take his own life?"

"Fisher," the officer scolded. "We're here to locate Celine not to interrogate Mr. Bruno."

They turned toward the door, exited, and climbed into the marked patrol car parked in front of the bank. Once they'd driven away. I rode the elevator to the basement.

I entered the code, forced the door open, and let it bang closed.

A vitriolic chuckle spilled from Byrne's lips. He choked on the sound then spit blood onto the floor. "Is there a problem?"

I bolted across the room, pulled my knife, grabbed his arm, and stretched it out on the hardwood table. I slammed my fist down on the back of his hand, shattering bones.

"Why does Karas want her?"

"Why do you think? He likes them young and blonde."

I clutched the hilt of the knife, flipped his hand, and stabbed the center of Byrne's palm, severing tendons, ligaments, and veins. He screamed and reached for the handle of the knife. I grabbed his wrist, forcing his arm to the opposite side of the table.

"Moreau is dead," I said.

Byrne tightened his hand into a fist, his body seized, and his jaw clenched against the pain.

"Open your hand, or I'll crucify you to the table through your wrist." I wouldn't because it would be too easy to cut a major artery, and I wanted him to suffer.

Knox leaned his chair back against the wall, staying in Ian's line of sight, and lit a cigarette.

Carmine handed me his knife. When Byrne didn't comply, Knox dropped the chair legs to the floor and approached with a hammer. "I'd rather smash your head in, but I'll settle for your hand."

Byrne's gaze widened, his palm opened, and I stabbed through the center of his palm. His chest bumped the edge and his forehead dropped onto the table. Drool dribbled from his mouth. Low moans rolled from his chest.

I leaned over him and whispered in his ear, "Moreau ate a bullet. The powerful district attorney took the coward's way out."

Marco sat in the chair across from him. "Your problems started with your brother. We know Patrick kept a dossier on all his clients. Karas was one of them."

Ian attempted to lift his head. I grabbed his hair and jerked his head up.

"Your wife is a resourceful young lady," Marco said.

Soon to be his widow.

"Had you not brought her into your business, we might never have learned she has a gift for listening and remembering."

Ian's eyes closed, and his nostrils flared as he tried to breathe through the pain. Blood pooled in his palms. "If you think I'm sympathetic to my wife, I'm not. If you think I care that Moreau is dead, I don't. He had one fucking job, keep the Bruno's busy while I—"

"While you what?" I gritted my teeth as he clammed up again.

"Secured my business."

"Your business is being dismantled," Marco said. "Moreau isn't the only one going down. You and your brother are a sick fucking stains on society, but he made a lot of money, and he was an excellent record keeper. Those records have been interesting fodder for my system tech."

Knox clicked his tongue. "I'm a soldier for the Italians, Ian. I follow Marco's orders. You prey on girls. Like Stefano says, you owe a debt, and debts must be repaid."

"Don't scold me with your patronizing arrogance."

Knox chuckled. "Fuck, dude, I'm not. I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of. I've got debts to repay. Adding to my body count with sick fucks who go after young girls is going to put some black back in my ledger. We're going after Ryan next. He'll lead us to Patrick."

Marco spun the lionhead ring on his finger. "We have a problem, Ian."

Ian's head lolled to the side as he struggled to stay conscious through the pain and shock.

Marco leaned forward. "I need your attention, Ian. Stef, can you get his attention?"

"Grab the belt," I said to Carmine. I nodded at the knife on Knox's hip. He handed it to me. "Hold still," I said to Ian. "I'd hate to miss and accidentally slit your throat." I slipped the knife into his shirt and sliced from the collar down, exposing his back.

Carmine wrapped the stun belt around Ian's torso, the electrodes centered over his kidneys. "The first setting is going to be a little shocking." Carmine laughed at his own joke and administered electrical current.

Spasms tightened Byrne's body. He tugged on his hand, tearing his flesh on the knife, and pissing his pants.

Marco leaned into the table. "Giada betrayed my family, killed my father, and attempted to kill both of my brothers."

"I'm not involved with Giada. I just fucked her," he said, gasping for a breath. "Why the fuck would I trust her? She's ruthless enough to fuck over the Bruno family."

"Giada is in bed with Karas. You're in business with him. Why the fuck does he need Celine?"

Byrne licked his lips. "He…he wants an heir."

"Fuck. No. Fuck." I rammed my fingers through my hair. I rushed Ian and put my face in front of his. "Where is Karas?"

"Don't know." He was barely breathing.

"Fuck you. Giada has Celine. She's taking her to Karas. You fucking know where he is."

"Giada wasn't involved. Not with the girl." Ian tried to shake his head. "I was supposed to deliver her." He choked on blood. "Once you had her, I couldn't get to her." He laughed. "Now you don't have her either."

"Fuck you."

I grabbed the remote and shocked him with the highest setting. Ian jolted with the pain. Blood gushed from his mouth as he bit through his tongue, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Carmine snatched the remote from my hand. "Enough. You'll kill him."

"Fucking hell," Marco said.

"He's not going to tell me how to find Karas." Rage and fear collided inside my head, a violent collision. I reeled at the thought of what he'd do to her.

I roared and kicked the chair out from under Ian. His body hung by his palms from the table.

"Stefano." Marco's tone did nothing to calm the building storm inside me.

"Karas is going to fucking breed her!"

"We'll find her," Carmine said.

Jesus. I was fucked. We hadn't scored a recent fucking picture of Karas. How the fuck did we find a man who wouldn't be found?

Knox put his fingers to Ian's neck. "He's dead."

I ripped my knife from his hand and wiped the blood from the blade on Ian's shoulder. Carmine did the same, then removed the stun belt. Grabbing Ian under the arms, Carmine dragged him across the floor, and dropped him near the drains.

Marco rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Stef, what do you need?"

I needed information from anyone connected to Ian or Patrick Byrne and Isaak Karas. "Body bags and a cleanup crew. Knox, bring me his guards."

Celine

Pressure pulsed behind my closed eyes. From laying in an unnatural position, my body ached. I tried to swallow, but my tongue felt like sandpaper, and my mouth was as dry as a desert. Yet, a cool, moist breeze settled on my flesh, and the distant sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore blew through the open patio doors.

I held still, focusing my attention on my immediate surroundings and listened. Trees whispered in the tranquil wind and blended with the mellifluous songs of birds.

My own breaths seemed loud and labored, but not hearing voices, I cracked my eyelids, squinting against the brightness. Slowly, the room came into focus. I was alone, in a bed, wearing the clothes I had on before I'd been stolen. Gauzy curtains swayed in front of the windows.

Lifting up, I rolled onto my side. Pain streaked through my joints, and my limbs felt heavy. Fragmented memories flitted through my mind. Giada tricked me. Oh god, Joe was shot. I ran, but men grabbed me.

Taking a few deep breaths, I concentrated on where I was and how I got here.

I remembered everything up to getting on the private jet. I wrapped my fingers around my throat. Each swallow of spit aggravated the burn and soreness from the screaming and fighting.

When the driver had grabbed me, I'd lost it. Overdosing on anxiety, fear, and adrenaline, I'd panicked. Nothing could calm my triggers, so I'd embraced the crazy.

Once in the plane, the man from the backseat had held me down while someone had drugged me. First, I'd felt the pinch, then heat had rushed through my veins. The next time I'd opened my eyes, I was strapped into a helicopter.

Apparently, they preferred a docile hostage because they'd injected me a second time as the helicopter ascended.

Now, to figure out where they'd brought me.

I crawled my way to the edge of the massive bed, my bruised body protesting, draped my legs over the side, and attempted to stand.

During my fight, I'd lost one shoe on the street, but the other one was gone now, too. My bare toes touched the marbled tile flooring, and my knees buckled. I held onto the bedding to keep from crashing to the floor.

I scanned the room. A wardrobe took up one of the walls. There were two interior doors and the double French doors leading outside. Original artwork hung on the pale beige walls. Freshly cut flowers filled a beautiful hand-painted vase.

After a few moments, the dizziness passed, and the numbness in my limbs began to tingle with painful pricks. How long had I been out?

I scrambled my way to the open French doors. Tropical foliage surrounded the property. I was on the lower level of what looked like a two-story mansion. A guard with a gun at his hip and a rifle over his shoulder passed on the pathway. I ducked to the side, taking cover in the billowing curtains.

Afraid he'd hear me, I barely breathed. Then grumbles rolled from my empty stomach. I was hungry, and I needed to pee. I tried the door most likely not to lead out of the room and slowly twisted the handle. It opened to a large bathroom.

Stepping in, I left the door ajar and peered into the mirror. Get a grip. I needed to pee, figure out where I was, and I had to find a way out of here.

Stef would want me to fight. I couldn't cower under the weight of my fear. I might feel like I was dying, but if I didn't find a way to escape, I'd have a life worse than death.

With feeling returning to my extremities, I quickly opened the wardrobe. Panties with the tags still on them filled one of the drawers. There were bras in my size. I ripped open another cupboard. Neatly folded leggings, jeans, joggers. Everything was in my size and in styles that could have come from my closet at home.

Small compartments each contained a pair of shoes, sandals, trainers, heels, boots. I grabbed the runners, leggings, and a long-sleeved shirt to keep my arms from getting scratched in case I needed to stay in the scrub. Undressing quickly, I changed into new clothes, then dropped to the floor and put on the shoes.

My hair had come loose from my messy bun, but I still had the hairband. I quickly plaited my hair as I scoured the room for anything I could use as a weapon.

Going to the bed, I stripped one of the pillowcases from the pillow. Then carefully remade the bed. I went to the patio, and cautiously stepped outside. We were definitely somewhere isolated and tropical. I couldn't hear traffic or people. No sounds of a city.

My footfalls were soft and quiet as I stayed close to the bushes and trees and followed the path to the edge of the mansion.

I crouched. A guard stood about twenty yards away, bent his head, and lit a cigarette. I nibbled a piece of chapped skin from my lips and tried to calm my racing heart while I waited for him to move on.

Another man joined him. They laughed and spoke in a language I didn't understand. It was unlikely we were in the States. I had no money, no identification, but I had a great memory for numbers. If I could get to a phone, I could call Stefano.

They walked around the front of the house. Taking a chance, I dashed toward the sound of the surf. There had to be people on the beach. Staying in the dense coverage of the gardens, I ducked under big leafy trees, and weaved between palm trees.

Along the way, I picked up a medium sized rock with sharp and pointed edges and dropped it into the pillowcase. I'd need a few more.

Breaking through the shade of the trees, blinding sunlight glinted off the pristine blue water. No, this couldn't be happening. No one. Not a soul except me. The deserted coastline stretched into the horizon. My feet sank into the soft sugar sand. The air was thick, warm, and suffocating.

Seagulls skipped along the water's edge. White foam rolled up the sand as I spun in a circle. If I went back the way I'd come, I risked running into the guards. Up ahead, the dense forest thinned, and the terrain grew rockier. Closer to the water, the tide packed the sand making it easier to run, and the crashing waves also washed away my steps.

I couldn't imagine what Stefano must be thinking. Guilt over assuming he had something with Giada warred with my remorse that someone from his family had been as much a threat to me as my father and husband.

I knew him. He'd feel responsible. Some cataclysmic karma had brought us together…and ripped us apart.

A small dock stretched from the shore out about a hundred feet into the calmer waters before the shoreline became rock. A wave washed over my shoes. Water splatted beneath my footstep. I chased the sun as it began to dip into the horizon, reaching the edge of the ocean. Rock bit into my palm, cutting and scratching. Ignoring the pain, I found my footing and scaled the rock barrier.

Blood seeped from the deepest cuts. On my hands and knees, I climbed onto the plateau. "God no." I covered my mouth with my hand.

The island was small. I'd fled from the largest of three villas. There was a smaller villa situated between the main house and the helicopter pad. The smallest house was on the far side of the island. Two swimming pools mirrored each other, tennis courts, and in the distance there appeared to be a golf driving range. An isolated prison masquerading as paradise with all the amenities, and complete with tall observation platforms at the three distinct points of the small island.

One of the guard towers was only a few yards from where I stood. I dropped to my knees. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And no one to help.

Tiny colorful villas peppered the green hills in the distance. I wasn't a good judge of distance, but no matter how close those colorful dots might appear, they were an ocean away.

Tears leaked from my eyes. I knew what would happen when I returned to the villa. There hadn't been a guard in my room because there was nowhere for me to go.

I bent my knees, hugged my shins, and made my first deal with myself since coming to the island. I could survive as long as when I closed my eyes, I could see Stef. Lifting my face to the setting sun, I pictured amber eyes, long lashes, and a wicked smile. On the rhythmic cadence of the ocean against the rocks, I could hear his accent whispering filthy words.

Inhaling, I breathed in the memory of his scent. And as long as I could smell him, he was with me. If I could feel him, he had to be able to feel me. I rested my forehead against my knees and cried.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been gone, but the sun had set in the copper, orange, and ruby sky when I climbed down the rocks and headed back. I picked up another rock from the cliff.

The moon reflected off the ocean. The only other light came from the blazing windows of the villa.

I stood at the edge of the manicured lawn before a massive two-story structure. Bile churned in my hollow gut. I followed the pathway back to the open doors. The moment of reckoning had come. I entered the mansion through the open patio.

My dirty clothes were gone. Someone had known I'd left. Were they watching me now? Clutching the pillowcase to my chest, I considered what I'd think if someone carried a bag of rocks. Probably that I intended to use them as weapons. Maybe to bash in someone's head. They'd be right.

Reaching into the bag, I pulled out the rocks and set them on the bookcase next to the desk as if to display them. Then I shook out the pillowcase and put it back on the pillow.

I sat on the bed and waited. A few minutes seemed like hours. I chewed my thumbnail, paced the room, and used the bathroom again, drinking from the bathroom sink.

I guess they were waiting for me. I opened the last closed door in the room and peered out. My heart raced, nervous energy churned in my belly, and I listened for any noise as I made my way deeper into the house.

Voices drifted down a long corridor. I hesitantly followed the deep sound of a man's voice. I recognized the woman's voice. Giada. I wish I'd learned to fight. I wanted to hear her choking with my hands around her neck.

Rounding the corner, I waited for them to notice me. I didn't understand what Giada said, but she paced in front of a man leaning back in a chair, holding a cigar between his fingers as it burned.

I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't the casual wave of black hair, cropped short on the sides and aged with gray at the temples. Black framed glasses sat on his straight nose. Even from here I could see the deep blue of his eyes. Shadows cut his angular jaw and a thick mustache framed his wide mouth.

He took his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he slipped them back onto his face, his gaze connected with mine. He rested his cigar in the ashtray on the table next to him. Simultaneously using his other arm, he slid Giada out of his line of sight.

He slowly stood, regarded me closely, and slid his hands into his loose pants.

A smile tilted his lips. "Welcome home, Celine."

I was wrong. Ian hadn't intended to trade me to Isaak Karas. He'd weaponized me against a powerful man. The man before me oozed intimidation. I felt the impact of his words to my core. He intended to keep me. I didn't know how it was possible, but looking at this man was like looking in the mirror.

Blue eyes, too big for his face, were just like mine. I had his wide mouth and full lips. An unsettling emotion rooted in my belly. Afraid of the truth, afraid of what it would mean if this man had claim to me.

Giada spun in my direction. For a split second, her expression hardened, and her lips pursed. She spoke, but I didn't think it was Italian.

"English only, Giada," the man said.

"I told you she was lovely." Her hand rested on the man's forearm. Her words sounded sweet, but with the ice in her glare, I heard the venom lacing her tone. "I promised I'd bring her home to you."

"Is that what you were promising? I recall a different conversation. I believe your words were that I was fucking up your life." And I'd foolishly thought she meant Stefano. He'd never lied to me, and he'd sworn he'd never make a promise he couldn't keep.

He'd claimed me in front of his brothers, and yet my insecurities had me thinking he'd prefer to be with this bitch.

"I know how important she is to you," she said to the man. Her hips swayed as she slithered around him and strode to the elegant sideboard. Crystal tumblers and different types of wine glasses filled the cabinet. Decanters of alcohol lined the barback. She sifted through the selection.

"I knew the minute I saw her," she continued, "that Byrne spoke the truth. She has to be yours." She dropped ice cubes into a glass. "Isaak, I still think it would be prudent to have a DNA test done. With her paternity confirmed, there won't be any encumbrances to keep us from moving forward."

"Giada, stop." He held his hand up, silencing her. "I'm sure you have questions," he said to me but maintained the distance between us. "I have questions as well. But first, you must be hungry."

"Who are you?"

"Isaak Karas. I believe you are my daughter."

"Is that why you've brought me here?" Because he could have made family declarations without having to steal me from my life. "Tell me."

"Soon," he said as a response to my question. "Juan has made a late dinner for us." He picked up his cigar. "With the haste of your departure, there wasn't time to consult you on your dietary needs."

He continued to speak as if he'd invited me here for an extended vacation.

"Deo will be at your disposal." He pointed with the burning end of his cigar.

I turned in the direction. A guard stood behind me. I scrambled away, putting several feet between us. "I don't need a guard. I won't be staying."

Giada laughed and tipped her drink to her lips. "I told you. She's going to be difficult. I had to lure her away from Stefano. Maybe she is your daughter. She doesn't give up easily."

The gracious smile on his lips twisted with malice as he glared at Giada. "There's no need to spoil our introduction by mentioning her unfortunate associations."

"Introductions should have happened when my mother gave birth," I interrupted.

Ignoring me, Giada cocked a brow. "A little more than an association. She's in bed with your enemy."

"It won't be the first time I've overlooked indiscretions when it comes to the Bruno men," he flippantly replied. "I've forgiven you."

"Nothing to forgive. I fuck to get you what you want."

"Then you should've fucked Moreau to get me my daughter."

Giada slammed the glass tumbler to the counter. "You wouldn't have known about her if I hadn't been fucking Byrne. You owe me, Isaak."

"Wrong. I own you."

Isaak crossed the room to me. Up close, the resemblance was unmistakable. I struggled to breathe. Something familiar lingered in his gaze, something broken.

"Stefano will pay for soiling you with Bruno stench."

Any connection I wanted to feel burned to ashes. His words sparked a barely banked fire burning in my belly. I'd use my fear to fuel my anger. I couldn't let him break me.

"It's a little late to play the father card with concerns on who I'm dating. Were you happy with my marriage to Ian?"

"We'll discuss your mother, your father, and your husband."

"There's nothing to discuss. They're all dead." At least I assumed Ian was dead. He was at the bank, and Stef had promised to make me a widow.

"That is good to know. It'll make your assimilation into your new life with me easier without attachments to your former life."

"I can't stay." I'd found my person. I could hear him in my thoughts. Never turn your back on your enemy. Never show mercy. Never underestimate him. Never negotiate. "I won't stay."

"There is no way for you to leave. We're nearly ten miles from the mainland. On a good day, the waves will crush you against the rocks. On a bad day the sharks will eat you. If you were a world-class swimmer, I'd give you a ten percent chance of surviving the swim. However, I have guards at three sentry points. No one comes on or off the island without my knowledge. You see, there's no reason for concern. You're safe here."

"You can't keep me prisoner." I couldn't stop the tears from spilling over the waterline of my eyes.

"Celine, right now, I'm asking for time. We have much to learn of each other." He tentatively lifted his hand to my cheek, catching my tears. His fingers were warm and strong. He touched me with reverence.

Never negotiate.But I could manipulate. "How much time?"

His hand dropped. "As long as it takes for you to realize you belong at my side."

"If I agree to stay, temporarily, I'll need access to a phone."

"No phone."

"Then I need a computer with email. I need to let my professor know your—" I waved my hand at Giada. I'd call her his whore, but I'd guess insulting his bitch wasn't the best way to manipulate this man into capitulation. "She destroyed my project. I'll need an extension. If you want any chance with me, you won't take my art from me."

"Never. You'll need a place to paint." He turned. "Deo, make the arrangements. Whatever she needs for her art."

"And emails?"

He pondered his decision. Then nodded. "Your education is important. You may email with supervision on a secure network."

A crack of light entered my dark thoughts. I had hope.

"I see that pleases you." His gaze narrowed as he closed his lips around the head of his cigar and hollowed his cheeks with short pulls. Embers in the foot glowed with the same fiery intensity as the blue flames in his menacing glare. He released a cloud of smoke. "You'll learn, Celine. I can be a generous man."

"And a ruthless enemy," Giada said with a wicked smile.