Page 132 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
When I bust out of the room, Vincenzo’s pal is waiting with a frown. “What’s going on? There were gunshots.”
I point my weapon in his face. “There will be more if you give me shit.”
He swallows. “No, sir.”
“Good. Come here.”
The guy hesitates. Does he understand that since I emerged from the room unscathed, I’m the badass here?
“I won’t shoot you if you fucking listen,” I say.
Nervously, he nods and sidles closer. Yeah, he’s a lot less brave without backup.
“Empty your pockets. Put all your weapons here.” I point to an old decorative table.
Vincenzo’s pal reaches into his cheap suit and pulls out a couple of semi-automatics and a tricked-out knife, then sets them down.
A glance verifies Kristi is still holding my Glock. “Cover me?”
She nods, and I search the wise guy. He looks so young. Is he even old enough to legally order a beer? I don’t think so, but at least he’s honest. His pockets are empty.
“Do something better with your life. This shit just leads to the big house, kid.” Then I push him into 810 with the others.
As he’s sputtering, I ensure the door is locked from the outside, then swivel back to Kristi. “The feds will be here in”—I glance at my phone—“eight minutes. One more stop.”
I let myself into 804. The girls follow. The room is dark. The little boy is asleep in the middle of the still-made bed. And he’s naked.
My chest clutches.
“Is he okay?” Kristi asks, her voice trembling.
I lift the child and hold him against my body. He’s still warm, still breathing. That’s something. The fact he doesn’t even move tells me he’s probably been drugged again.
Hang in there, little guy.
“Hopefully, he will be.” Since there’s no sign of his clothes, I need help. “Get the sheet off the bed, will you?”
She does.
Sammie rushes to help. “Oh, I saw that poor kid in the basement. I heard the short guy say he was a drug addict’s kid. Did that mafia guy really…?”
“Yeah, but we’re going to get him to safety.” Thankfully, Kristi and Sammie hand me the sheet, and I wrap it around his body, holding him protectively. “Let’s go.”
There’s no one waiting in the hall. And except for the mechanical whirl, the elevator ride straight to the lobby level—thanks to Donzelli’s private code—is jarringly quiet.
“Thank you,” Kristi mutters. “I didn’t think we were getting out of there alive.”
There were a few moments I was worried about that, too. But they’re behind us, and the future is what’s important now. “I was always getting out with you, Little Red.”
The elevator doors open, and we exit at the back of the high rollers’ area, where I snagged Kristi last night. It’s empty now, and the two thugs guarding the entrance haven’t gotten the memo yet that I’m the enemy. In fact, they don’t say a word.
“This way.” I lead everyone to a side utility entrance of the hotel.
My contact is waiting.
My buddy Ryan’s brother, Micah, along with a small army of feds from around the region, are waiting when we walk out the door and into the golden sunrise.
“Jesus, you cut it close,” my thirty-something friend with the buzz cut grouses. “We’re three minutes from busting in the door.”
