Chapter 32

32

Creed

“ S o, Zara’s leaving today?” Dre asks when he finds me brooding in my Omerta office.

“Yes,” My brow furrows. “How did you know?”

“I just came from the penthouse. There were suitcases sitting at the door.”

“They’re leaving this afternoon.” I glance at the watch on my wrist. “In about fifteen minutes, actually.”

“And you’re not going up there to spend your last few minutes with your wife?”

“No.”

“I find that hard to believe, since you were willing to ruin your life and the rest of ours for her just a few days ago.”

“Do you want me to shoot you in the face? Is that why you came in here talking shit?” I grumble.

“I’m just asking a valid question.”

“She’s leaving. I thought you of all people would be happy to get rid of her, since you think she’s a liability and blame her for Carmine’s murder. You said she had to go and you’re right. It’s safer this way.”

“And if you listened to me instead of yourself and what you feel about her, then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“That’s it. I’m definitely blowing your head off.” I get to my feet, open the left drawer of my desk, and pull out the spare Smith & Wesson I keep there.

“Oh, shut the fuck up with the tough guy act. And put the gun away. You won’t kill me,” he says. “I know you better than anyone but maybe Tristan. And I know that this whole pouting thing you’re doing isn’t going to end any better than the impulsive decision to kill Izaiah. You care about Zara. So much so that you threatened to kill her to make her marry you, and now you’re sending her away to protect her and yourself. If she’s gone, then you won’t have to actually trust someone not to shred your shriveled black heart.”

Clenching my molars, I grit out, “Her staying with me was never an option. It was stupid to insist she marry me. Sending her away was always the best solution. I just didn’t want to face it before.”

“You could see her again. She’s not going to disappear after the boat leaves the harbor, you know. But you’re too scared that she doesn’t love you or accept all of you or whatever bullshit to even try.”

“Do you want me to go chasing after her so you can take over for me?”

“ Vaffanculo . I don’t want to be the boss of bosses. I doubt I could pull it off, even if all the heads of the family were replaced. What I’m trying to say is that maybe I was wrong.”

“About? ”

“About Zara being bad for you and your awful ass decision making! My first reaction when you told us about her setting us up with the raid was to hate her, to think she’s the enemy because what she did got Carmine killed and all of us arrested. If the Rovinas had her little girl, then it’s easier to understand how they convinced her to screw us over. She’s a victim here too. And that’s why you married her instead of killing her, right?”

“That’s where I fucked up. We were never an actual couple in a real marriage. She was never anything but my captive and then a woman thankful for someone helping her get her daughter back after she was wrongly taken from her.”

“Yes, how could any woman love the asshole who went out of his way to risk his life to save hers and give her the best gift ever?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Creed, isn’t it possible that Zara loves you for the things you did for her, the way you treated her, and that she wasn’t just fucking you as some sort of unspoken requirement? I mean, I’ve been with women who aren’t into it, and I don’t know how shit went down with Zara, but unless she just laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds until you finished, then she probably wanted to be with you. Is that what happened?”

“She rode me the first time.”

“There you go. She was an active, dare I guess, enthusiastic participant?”

I narrow my eyes at him. I can’t help but give him some shit too. “Do the women you sleep with really just lie there?”

“I’m only the underboss to the capo dei capi. That doesn’t seem to get them all hot and bothered. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t. Maybe I’m the problem…”

“So, all your complaining about Zara being bad for me was coming from a man who screws women who have less energy than a blowup doll?”

“Basically. Yes. ”

“No wonder you’re so damn grumpy all the time.”

“You would be, too, if you could never touch the only woman you want,” he blurts out, then quickly glances away.

“Stella Rovina, huh?”

His fingers pause halfway through shoving them in his hair. “How did you know?” He slumps into a chair.

“Tristan.”

“Him and his fat fucking mouth.”

“You’re marrying the woman by the end of the year, so I would say that your chances of getting inside of her are somewhere around like fifty percent now.”

“It’s zero if she kills me before the wedding.”

“True. Best watch your back. I don’t trust anyone in that damn family. How could Emilio and Izaiah take a baby girl from her mother right after she gave birth?”

“They’re cruel sons of bitches,” Dre agrees. “That, unfortunately, doesn’t change the fact that I want to bend Stella over every surface in New York.”

“So, it’s just a physical attraction to her?”

“I guess. But no other woman seems to get her out of my head, no matter how beautiful or kind they are to me.”

“Have you had them throw wine in your face in public? Maybe that would do the trick.”

“Ha, you’re not fucking funny,” he mutters.

“So, what is it then?”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about Stella… maybe the fact that she hates me and doesn’t want anything to do with me is why I find her so infuriatingly sexy.”

“You like the challenge she presents?”

“I hate the goddamn challenge! I don’t want to want someone who loathes the sight of me. I sure as shit don’t want to chase her either. Screw it. I’m not marrying her. That just sounds like the worst kind of torture imaginable, calling her my wife and not being able to touch her without losing a hand.”

“Oh, you’re going to marry her,” I assure him. Now, it’s not just about our alliance with the Rovinas. I think the only chance Dre may ever have of changing Stella’s mind about him will be if she’s forced to live under the same roof as him as his wife. “I don’t want Emilio to see what’s coming when we set up his accidental death.”

“ Vaffanculo . If I marry Stella, you have to get off your ass and tell Zara that you’re in love with her, then give her a chance to be honest with you about how she feels without assuming the worst.”

“Me and Zara, it’s not that easy.”

“It is easy, Creed. It is,” he says again. “It’s you who is making shit hard. There has to be some other option for you to keep your wife here with you. If not now, then at least in the future — a few months from now when Emilio is dead.”

Fuck. Maybe he’s right.

“What time is it?” I ask before I glance at my watch. “Three-fifty-six.” If I hurry, maybe I can say goodbye to Zara before she leaves and ask her if she wants to see me again. “I need to get downstairs.” I head for the door.

“No shit, man. I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake the fuck up.”

Dre follows me to the elevator, and I press the down button no less than five times to call the damn thing.

“Won’t make it come any faster.”

I glance at the door to the stairs. We’re too high up to try to run down all the steps.

Finally, the elevator dings, the doors open, and we squeeze on with the rest of the passengers. It feels like an eternity before we pile out at the lobby floor.

I jog out the door to 56th Street but don’t see her, so I hurry around to 57 th , knowing they were going to be picked up at the corner of Park Avenue.

“Where is she?” Dre asks when he catches up .

“She’s gone.”

“To Marino’s harbor, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

“There should be time,” I agree. “Marino was going to load them a few hours before departure to keep most his crew from seeing them.”

“Then call up Aldo with a car, and we’ll head over to the harbor.”

I shoot a text to Aldo to come and pick us up. He replies that he just loaded Zara and the rest of the group, so he’ll be around to get us soon.

While Dre and I are waiting, a long black suburban rolls up to the curb. The passenger window rolls down, and the driver with a shaved head waves, showing the sea serpent ink on his forearm. “Mr. Ferraro?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Jimmy, picking up your passengers for Mr. Marino.”

“What?” I walk up to the window, getting closer so I can hear him better.

“You had some travelers that needed to be picked up today at four, right? Sorry, I was late. Traffic. You know how it is. But Mr. Marino said we’ll get boarded up with plenty of time to spare.”

“What? No.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand. I thought they had already left.” Aldo just told me he loaded their luggage. I look down the street as my stomach sinks to the sidewalk. “At least, I thought they had left.”

I call Aldo.

“Hi, boss.”

“You said you loaded up Zara and the others?”

“Yes, sir.” That was about, ah, ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

“Are you sure it was Marino’s SUV? ”

“Yes, sir. Well, I assumed it was his…”

“Fuck.”

“Maybe she just got in someone else’s Uber,” Dre suggests.

But the odds of that are slim. It’d have to be one hell of an Uber to carry Zara, her daughter, two nannies and four guards plus some luggage.

“I need to call Bertelli,” I say as I end the call with Matteo and find the number in my contacts.

“Creed,” Weston says when he answers. “I trust the documents were to your satisfaction.”

“When did you drop them off?”

“My messenger handed them to a woman with long curly hair matching one of the photos about…fifteen minutes ago.”

“Did your messenger also give her and the others a ride by chance?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. He was on a scooter.”

“Fuck!”

I end the call without another word, too furious to speak.

“We’ll find her,” Dre says, his phone already to his ear, calling someone he must think can help. “Hey, Anthony. It’s Dre. Do you have the street camera footage for the past half hour? Yeah, the boss and I are coming to take a look. Thanks.”

He hangs up. “Let’s go to security, find out the make and model of the vehicle, and try to get a license plate. Ask Gideon to let you know if they show up at the harbor in case it’s just an Uber mix up.”

“Yeah, okay.” My entire body is numb as I somehow get my fingers to type out the text to Gideon. Then I send a group text to the entire family to be on the lookout for them, including my men with Zara, who I ask to contact me immediately .

I hear several notification pings right after I hit send coming from nearby. Heading toward the sound, my heart sinks to the sidewalk when I see a pile of cell phones and guns inside a planter near the building’s entrance.

I don’t even have to look to know they’re my guys who are as good as dead, along with Zara, if we don’t find them fast.