Page 67 of Kept

A van pulls up, and someone starts to drag me to the open side doors. I kick and thrash but accomplish nothing. I’m launched through the air and crash into the back of the cargo van floor. A giant man dressed in black follows behind me, slamming the door. The van is already moving when he sits on my chest, wrapping my wrists in duct tape. He slaps duct tape over my mouth and all the way around my head. He doesn’t bother with my feet, but he slides his body down, resting his weight on my hips and keeping me pinned.

He yells something at me in Italian. When I don’t respond, he yells it again. Then he slaps my face so hard, I see stars. He pulls out a phone and makes a call. While I don’t understand what he’s saying, the predatory leer he’s giving me makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn.

I have no hope of keeping up with the violent turns of the van as it works its way through the city. When it gets darker, I realize we must be in a garage of some sort. The van parks, and my captor grabs one leg and yanks me out onto the concrete. I land with a cry, barely able to get my bound hands in front of my face to protect it. Then I’m jerked to my feet by my hair and shoved towards an elevator. The driver has joined us. He’s equally imposing, with a crooked nose that suggests it’s been broken several times. He starts conversing with the other man, and I can feel their eyes roving up and down my body.

This is very, very bad.

The elevator goes up, and up, and up. Finally, the doors pop open into what looks like a small lobby to a very posh hotel. A set of cream and gold French doors dominate the center of the room. As we approach, the doors swing open.

The man standing in the door could, in other circumstances, be considered dashing. Probably in his forties, with streaks of sliver in his otherwise thick hair that he has neatly styled, he wears a pinstripe navy suit and glossy black shoes. His skin is a tanned olive, his teeth are straight and white, and his smile could otherwise be disarming. His eyes are a brilliant emerald green, which are locked on me and are radiating pure evil.

“Miss Williams, won’t you please come in?” he says, waving his arm to suggest stepping into his lair. The goon that dragged me from the van gives me a shove, and I land in a tangled heap on the tile floor. I see the suited man wave off the other two and close the door.

“Allow me,” he says and gently lifts me to my feet by my arms. “Do you know who I am?” he asks.

I shake my head.

He gives me a predatory smile. “My name is Don Salvatore Rizutto.” He stares at me, as if waiting for some sort of response, despite the tape across my mouth. “And you are the current love interest of Vincent De Luca.” He gives another creepy smile. “Oh yes, child, I’m quite certain I know how he feels. He was married to my sister, after all.”

Despite trying to keep a blank expression, I know my face shows my shock.

“Oh, so you do know about dear Vincent’s wife. Did he tell you that he killed her?”

This time I glare at him.

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that accident story? Whose child was in her belly? Eh? Whose child killed my baby sister?” He grabs a vase and throws it against a wall, shattering the glass into an explosion of glittering shards and flowers.

He takes several ragged breaths before speaking in a much more controlled tone. “Do you know how you become the don in the mafia, Miss Williams?”

I shake my head.

“Oh, well, it’s quite simple. Either you inherit it through blood, or you take it with blood. Our families should have been joined a decade ago. Instead, I’m going to finish what was started.” He smiled again, a cold, reptilian thing. “Simply put, my dear, I’m going to kill the king. And you, Miss Williams, are the bait.”

CHAPTER 36

Vincent

I’m halfway to the hotel when another three-way call comes through.

Jack is yelling before I can get a word out. “It’s fake! It’s a looped recording!”

“What?” I roar.

“They recorded Rizutto waking into that room, plus a ton of footage on either side. I caught the glitch when it looped back around. He’s not there!”

Alessandro is calling in.

“I’m adding Alessandro to the call.”

Alessandro has no preamble. “Leo’s car was hit. Sarah is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Marco asks.

“Witnesses saw a woman dragged into a van that sped off.”

I feel the blood in my veins run cold. “When?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

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