Page 74 of Hostile Love
Given the fact it’s well after midday, there’s every chance India is sitting with André or watching over the twins.
“We need to get to the hospital,” I bark out the order to my driver. “Step on it.”
I shirk off my jacket and stuff my fingers into my hair, feeling useless. As the convoy rolls forward, I fist the headrest in front of me.
“Go faster, for fuck’s sake. This is an emergency.”
The only other person to call is Tomás––and truth be told, he’s the guy I always phone when there’s trouble. My big brother takes my calls day or night. When I ring, he answers.
As expected, after three rings, Tomás is in my ear. “Mat.”
“Where’s Giovanni?” I ask quickly.
“He’s beside me––why?”
“Where?”
Despite the speed of the SUV blurring the landscape beyond the window, it’s still not going fast enough for my liking. The knot in my stomach is growing tighter by the second.
“We’re back at André’s place, dealing with a few things.”
“Is India with you?”
“No, she’s at the hospital with Carina and Mama. There’s a whole security team there. Why, what’s wrong?” his typically calm tone waivers.
“Tommy…” My breath catches. “The attack was orchestrated by Fabian Lozano’s family. The kid from Blackwater. They were after Indy, not Dré. I’m guessing Gio will be next.”
There’s a commotion on the other end of the phone and all I hear is Tomás yelling at the top of his voice like a god declaring war.
Bringing the phone back to his ear, Tomás speaks to me, his voice hoarse.
“We’re leaving for the hospital now,” he snarls. “Cari…fuck…FUCK!”
“I’m on my way, Tommy. I’ll get there before you. Don’t worry, I’ll protect them. You have my word.”
22
MATHEUS
The second I hang up, my pulse thrums, loud and powerful. Violence swells inside of me.
I know what I have to do, but the SUV has slowed down for some reason.
I’m trapped. My wings are clipped. If I had my motorcycle, I’d be unstoppable.
“What’s going on?”
I thump the headrest, practically pushing myself between the two front seats to get a better view.
“Why the hell have we stopped?”
“Traffic, sir,” the driver replies. “Looks like there’s roadwork.”
My temper sparks. Adrenaline sends my veins jumping. Impatient and antsy, I roll down the passenger window and stick my head out.
There are cars and trucks as far as I can see.
Shoving my back into the seat again, I fish out my phone and try to call Mama, then Sinéad. No answer from either of them. I don’t have time to sit here waiting.
