Page 113 of Devil's Iris
Fuck.
I stare at the phone in Sandro’s outstretched hand, blood drying on my gloves, heart thundering now for a whole different reason. Without a word, I snatch it from him.
“Don’t let him bleed out. Not yet,” I tell the other men in the room as I step outside, phone pressed to my ear. “Amore.” The word comes out soft, my voice gentling for the first time in hours. “What’s wrong?”
Because something has to be wrong if she’s calling me right now. After last night, after everything that went down betweenus. Until this moment, my only contact with her has been the updates from Logan and the men watching her house.
Silence stretches on the other end—long enough for me to think she’d butt-dialed me. Then:“Drop that bag on the table and step away from it, or I’m going to blow little Ethan’s brains out.”
My heart lurches to my throat. I’m already moving towards the car. I need to get to her. Now. Right fucking now.
Because that voice.It’s Mikkel.
“Where’s my wife?” I bark at Sandro, even though I know where she is. Logan texted me that he’d dropped her at the house and she’d gone inside. Inside where she should be safe.
Except she’s clearly not fucking safe, is she?
“She got home from the rehab center about ten minutes ago,” Sandro answers, falling into step beside me. “Romero, what’s?—"
“The men watching the house,” I cut him off, sliding behind the wheel, my hands shaking with rage and fear. “Are they still in position?”
“Yeah, they’re—” he starts to answer, then stops when he sees my face. He jogs around to the passenger side as I fire up the engine. “What’s going on?”
“Good girl. Now I’m going to need you to step towards me.”Mikkel’s voice drifts from the phone. “Yes, like that. Pick up that device on the floor and dial your husband’s number. Call Romero.”
Fucking hell. I put my phone on speaker, placing it on the armrest between Sandro and me as I peel out of the driveway. Tires squeal against asphalt as I quickly fill Sandro in on what little I know.
That’s when the problem hits me like a punch to the gut—if Leni calls me with the device Mikkel gives her, my current call with her will disconnect and I’ll lose any insight into what’s happening inside that house.
Fuck. FUCK!
“How the hell did he get inside?” The words explode out ofme. What the hell were Leni’s guards doing? Taking a goddamn nap?
Sandro’s phone starts ringing and we lock eyes. I nod for him to answer it.
“Hello?”
Sandro’s voice echoes through my phone from the call with Leni, and I feel a rush of relief. She called Sandro so our line with her wouldn’t drop.Smart girl.
I take my phone off speaker to avoid overlap and Sandro puts his on. “Leni, is that you?” I keep my voice steady, even though my heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest. “Whose number is this?”
But it’s not my wife who answers.
“Romero Lombardi,” that familiar, smug voice crackles through the speaker. “This is Mikkel Verona. I have your wife and brother-in-law in my possession.”
“Mikkel.” I harden my voice, ice filling my veins. “You do realize my men have that house surrounded, don’t you?”
“Oh, I know. It was hell slipping past them undetected. But here’s the thing—your men aren’t going to do anything, because if they try, I’ll put bullets in both of these pretty heads,theneat my own gun.” His voice is still smug, confident. He knows he holds all the cards with those two as his hostages.
My hands tighten on the wheel until my knuckles go white. “What do you want?”
“You have someone very important to me in your possession. I want him back. And twenty million dollars wired to an offshore account—I'll text you the details. Meet those demands, and your family walks away breathing.”
I grit my teeth as I turn onto the street where the house is located. “And if he’s dead?”
“My son better not be dead!” The smugness evaporates, replaced by something frantic, desperate, and a small whimper comes through the line.Leni.
That bastard!
