CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

brAXTON

T he option of driving was taken from me when Salvatore demanded I ride with him and a few of his goons. They are armed with weapons that armed personnel usually possess, and it's clear shit is getting real.

At least he hasn't taken my phone.

We drive through the dark streets, and I've lost track of where we are. I don't have a clue, but it's not Scarsdale anymore. Gone are the beautiful homes and tree-lined streets. Replaced with a more industrial landscape.

Asking isn't on the cards, nor should I be interested. I'm here just to inspect the crop, so to speak, and nothing more.

I stay quiet while the guys in the front make small talk, mostly talking shit and smoking cigarettes.

"So, what is your buyer looking for?" Salvatore asks, his legs spread, a heavy watch glittering in the dark cab of the SUV.

"Quality. Beauty," I say, keeping it simple as I glance at Dante, who sits opposite of me.

"This shipment has sat for longer than usual as our buyer let us down," Salvatore says. "Something they won't do again."

Christ. I grin as if I find the idea humorous. "I bet."

He laughs.

Dante stays quiet.

I'm fucking nervous with him so close to me, I'll be honest.

"Beauty. What does that mean to the Europeans?" Salvatore asks. As if he is still assessing if I'm trustworthy, or maybe he's doing market research.

Which makes me want to barf.

I shrug. "Eye of the beholder, as they say. But not so much the blue-eyed blonde American look we prefer here."

Fuck.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Amy meets that description in every way. Sweetheart lips, long lashes, and sweeping blonde hair.

Goddamn it.

"It's not my preference," Dante says, seeming to look out into the distance.

I glance at Salvatore, and he shakes his head. I'm missing something here, but I don't fucking care. All I want is Amy and to see these assholes behind bars.

However, I'm naturally curious and can't help wonder if I was a friend of Dante's—he is only a few years younger than me—if I might be poking into that comment deeper.

So, I do.

Because if this is about a chick, I'd rather be talking about that than getting deeper into the lies of my cover, where I could slip up.

"Oh yeah. Someone in particular?" I ask, smirking.

Dark eyes turn to me. "No."

Yeah, there is.

"Come on, clearly I'm into your sister, so I promise not to poach her," I say.

Dante's glare darkens further.

Holy hell, this guy scares me more than his father, and I honestly can't say why. It's clear, whoever this woman is, Dante Baldassare is in madly love with her. I'd go as so far to say obsessed.

She should run.

"If you lay a finger on Adelina, I will kill you," he growls, showing his unstable and cheerful personality. "Slowly."

"Noted." I glance away, as if unaffected. But I'm keeping a close fucking eye on the gun in his holster.

Salvatore shakes his head.

"And if you haven't figured it out already, Gianna doesn't belong to you," he says, relaxing back into his seat.

It will be a miracle if I am still breathing by the end of this mission. Because I have clearly lost all sense of survival. I open my mouth and the words fall out before I can stop them. "What if she wants to?"

I turn and meet his eye, but it's Salvatore who answers while Dante and I stare at one another.

"It's not her decision."

"Nor mine," Dante says roughly and looks away.

We drive through some heavily guarded gates in a rough looking and what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. There are no lights on, but once my eyes adjust and my Marine Corps training kicks in, I spot the Baldassare men in the shadows.

There are dozens of them.

Meaning, the merchandise housed in this location is valuable.

I feel sickened to think this is where Amy has spent her time since being picked off the streets and I know I've barely scratched the surface.

The guards exit the vehicle and Salvatore climbs out. I go to follow, but Dante grabs my arms. I almost pull my gun and shoot him, but instead I freeze. Then slowly turn my head.

––––––––

"B E CAREFUL, brAXTON Rossi," he warns.

"I always am."

What the hell is this about? I watch as Salvatore circles the vehicle and greets a man.

"My sister is in love with you," he says, surprising me. "When this deal is done, you should leave. It will only hurt her if you stay."

"Sounds like things need to change," I growl, but I don't know why I'm even bothering. "You could influence your father."

One minute I hate her and all she stands for—her family stands for—and the next I'm gritting my teeth to stop confessing how I feel about the beautiful Italian.

How could I have fallen in love with her?

I could barely look at her today. Barely touch her. Barely acknowledge her.

It's time to get this done and move on with my life. Gianna will be nothing more than a distant memory and weakness I will put behind me.

"No one tells Frank Baldassare what to do. She is to marry Leo Baldoni. Walk away, Braxton. Our business relationship with you will be worth far more."

Motherfucker.

I glance at the front of the cab as my jaw grinds.

"I understand more than you know," he says and when I look back, he's gazing out the window once more.

"Tell me one thing, Dante. Does Gianna know about this?" I nod at the dark warehouse outside the car. "Does she know about Leo and the plans that have been made for her life?"

He won't lie to me.

The heir to the Baldassare mafia might lie about many things, but he has no reason to lie about Gianna.

"She knows about Leo," he says, meeting my gaze. "This?" He glances outside and then back to me. "Gianna is not involved with the business. No women in the family are."

"She fucking knows." I snort, annoyed that he lied.

I really thought he'd be honest with me, but I guess all gangsters are fucking liars.

"At best, she thinks it's weapons or drugs. Not...this."

He can't even say the damn words. But I don't care about that. I'm stuck on what he just told me: not this.

This.

Does she really not know? Not know that the food she eats, the house over her head, the designer clothes she wears, and the yoga fucking teacher she meets with have all been paid for by money earned from human trafficking.

From selling them into slavery in some of the most dangerous and poor corners of the world.

What reason would Dante have to lie to me?

Zero.

In fact, it makes sense. Mafia women are historically kept in the dark.

But I asked her.

Fuck.

Fuck! She doesn't know. How could she?

I was so damn angry with her all day. Our last day together. What a fucking waste.

I shake my head and remind myself it doesn't matter.

I am not the man she loves.

I am Braxton Ashford, a United States Marine.

Soon, she'll learn who I really am—or know that I'm a traitor—and hate me for what I've done. That's the tough pill I'll have to swallow.

I turn back to Dante, thinking how messed up this undercover gig is. It takes strength to keep your values hidden when confronted with them.

I don't like this guy, and he's dangerous as hell, but he's taken a moment to protect Gianna—the woman I love—so I respect that.

"I'm leaving tonight," I tell him. "Do me a favor."

Dante nods.

"Keep an eye on her. Gianna is not as happy and carefree as she pretends to be."

His dark eyes study me, a hand on the door handle. He could take my words to mean many things, which was a big risk for me to take.

"You love her," he states.

It's not a question. It's a shared moment with two men who appear to be in the same situation, even though we are worlds apart.

In love with women we cannot have.

There is something about shared pain that seems to bond us. At least in this moment.

"Yes," I say, then climb out of the SUV and send out a wish to the universe than I don't pay with my life for admitting that.

Or that I have to kill him.

A heart-to-heart with Dante Baldassare was the last thing I was expecting.

I glance behind the SUV, knowing I won't spot the feds or Dark Kings, but take comfort knowing they are out there. I wouldn't be surprised if someone pulls a SEAL or Marine team in. Then again, the Barrett Security team is full of them, so Agent Scott might just lean on Connor and the Dark Kings.

I've got a lot to learn about how these guys work. But I trust them with my life.

And Amy's.

Dante joins me and we follow Salvatore and the guards and walk across the dark tarmac toward a rusty door. The entire place looks abandoned, except for the guards.

No one would know what's inside.

Assuming it's not just my oversized casket. AKA my resting place.

AKA where I will die in the next few seconds.

"Nice place." I joke and one of the soldiers snickers as he opens the door.

It creaks loudly.

"Thanks, it's new." Dante smirks.

I actually laugh despite myself and wonder if, in another life, he might be a cool guy.

Salvatore barks out an instruction and we follow him inside. A guard turns on a flashlight to light the way.

Christ, it's like cloak and daggers.

"You know, if you need to borrow some money to put the power back on, I could throw a few hundred your way." I kept up the comedy.

It could be nerves.

My stomach feels like it has a flock of goddamn pigeons inside scratching at the sides.

"Hopefully you'll be throwing a few billion instead," Salvatore says, nodding to another guard who unlocks a padlocked door.

The place is cold and damp; my fingers itch to shoot every single motherfucker and free these poor people enslaved.

Reality is kicking in.

There are humans trapped in here and I've been focused on my damn love life. God, I'm an asshole.

Gianna will heal her broken heart.

I will one day forget her.

But these two hundred women will never forget what they've been through. Their lives and mental health damaged forever. Assuming we can save them.

As we reach the other side of the large warehouse, we slow and the guard unlocks a trap door on the floor. He lifts it open, and it lands with a bang, which echoes around the room.

His flashlight exposes a dark, steep staircase heading underground.

"After you." Salvator grunts.

"Fuck that. You first." I laugh and glance around. Dante has disappeared and that makes me nervous.

Salvatore shrugs and climbs onto the first step as a bright light turns on. I slam my eyes shut and simultaneously hear a noise I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Pain.

Suffering.

Human fucking misery.

I blink and open my eyes as their moans fill the air. I don't know if I can do this. Tears and rage fight for dominance.

I have to.

I'm a fucking Marine.

I will save these women.

Step after step, I climb the stairs and find myself in a large room not unlike a prison. Behind the rusty bars are dirty, starving, and terrified prisoners. Most of them are barely able to lift their heads or stand.

As if they've given up hope.

Some of them watch me as I walk past their cells, and I take in their torn clothing and the smell of urine and defecation.

Salvatore stands to the side as I walk past.

"Go," he says, waving me on. "Do your inspection. Then we must go."

How can he just stand there and not care that these human fucking beings are dying? Suffering. Treated worse than animals.

I push down my emotions—it barely works—and refocus on who I am supposed to be.

The middleman. The trader.

What would someone want to know?

"When did they last eat?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the produce.

Produce.

Fuck I want to vomit at how these people think.

"Jerry." Salvatore calls upstairs. "Did you feed them this week?"

One fucking bullet.

That's all I'd need.

"Yesterday. No, Sunday," Jerry calls back.

The face of a young girl lifts and she stares at me with fear and disgust. I want desperately to tell her she can trust me. Doing so would get us both killed in an instant.

I've seen faces like this before, but the fear immediately disappears when they see the US uniform. Today there is no flag on my shoulder. I am the enemy.

I look away and search for Amy as my body trembles with all the pent-up fury at what I am witnessing.

I wasn't prepared.

I don't know if you can be.

One way or another, I am getting these women out, and if Amy is here, then it's a bonus.

"Help me," one of them whispers when I'm a dozen or more feet from where Salvatore stands. My eyes flick to her and I have to physically hold myself back from telling her I am here to help.

That's when I see her. Huddled in the corner, wearing a green t-shirt I recognize.

Oh, my fucking god.

Amy.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

She's here.

My heart thumps in my chest and I take a step back because I cannot let her see me. But then her face lifts and the world shifts into slow motion.

If she cries out right now, I am dead.

I lift my finger to my lips as she jumps to her feet, and she opens her mouth to cry out my name...

Noooooo.

A ring tone fills the air.

"Fuck, it's the boss," Salvatore says and climbs the stairs as Amy runs toward me.

"Brax—"

"Stop." I growl as quietly as I can. "Get down on the ground."

Her mouth drops open, her big blue eyes fill with fear, but she does what she's told, and it breaks my fucking heart.

Amy never does what she's told.

She's broken.

And I want to run out of the room and shoot every fucking cunt in this warehouse between the eyes.

"Brax," she begs, shaking and sobbing.

I glance around the cell, pretending to be disinterested.

"I'll get you out, but you have to be quiet," I whisper as she keeps sobbing.

"Amy, tell me you understand." I drop my eyes to hers. "If they find out who I am, we are both dead."

She nods.

"Get back there." I nod to the back of her cell.

Then I turn and walk away as her sobs claw at my heart.

She's alive.

Amy is alive.

Barely, but I've found her.

Holy hell.

I realize I'm shaking when I reach the staircase. When I climb back up the stairs to find Salvatore, he's on the phone and watching me.

Not in a good way.

Oh shit.