Page 66 of Sins of the Father
Mia was his fault and his salvation. She had wormed into the small, human places inside him that he’d thought long dead. He wanted her to live—truly live—even if that meant letting her walk away. The thought should have been surrender; instead, it sharpened something in him.
His phone shrilled. Luc reached for the phone before it even finished ringing, thumb finding the answer key. “Carlos.”
“No, someone far worse. I have your precious woman,” John said. “She’s alive. For now. You want her back alive and in one piece? I want the chip Bonino left behind. I will call with more information on how we trade.”
The line went dead.
For a breath, Luc held the phone to his ear, listening to the silence. Then the room began to tilt. Shock slammed into him first—a cold, disbelieving animal—and immediately under it came a black, wordless fear. John. Ruthless, precise, the sort of man who delivered choices like verdicts. The image of Mia inJohn’s hands detonated in his chest, a physical hurt so sharp it was almost laughable.
Rage followed, low and hot. He pictured John’s face—calm, unhurried—and for a second, the world narrowed to a single blade of intent. Luc put the phone on the desk and breathed through it once. No time for hesitation.
Luc thumbed Antonio’s number. “Get me the last ping on Carlos’s phone,” he said the moment Antonio answered. “Where was he last? Then send teams to every route out of that city—airports, marinas, bus stations. Someone finds Carlos, they find us a location.”
“Right away,” Antonio replied, voice already switching into operations mode. “I’ll have the tracker up and teams mobilized.”
“Meet me at the compound in thirty minutes,” Luc said. “Bring two dozen men who can hold a perimeter and four drivers. Armory prepped. No questions.”
“Understood. On my way.”
He ended the call and stood there a long moment. He told himself facts: John wanted leverage; John had taken her to force a trade. Carlos was likely dead or dying. Time was the enemy. Luc paced once, then twice. The embers in the hearth glowed like coals in his chest. He pulled on a jacket, slid a compact pistol into the small of his back, and walked out into the cold night with Antonio already at the gate. Men were coming alive at his orders—drivers, trackers, the hackers who could peel a phone’s skin open and light it up.
Tonight would be a hunt. Luc did not let himself think of Mia and what she might be enduring. All that tenderness folded inward and hardened into resolve. He would bring her back. He would make John regret the day he decided he could bargain with blood.
Exactly six hourshad passed since John’s call. Luc had taken his private jet to Florida and moved like a man with a single purpose. Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d been told Carlos had made it through surgery and was awake. The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and iron. Luc stepped inside; the doctor, mid-sentence, fell silent the moment he saw him.
Carlos sat propped against the pillows, shoulder swaddled in thick gauze, dark blood seeping at the edges. He straightened when Luc entered, voice a rasp. “She was right in front of me. I lost her. I am so damn sorry.”
Luc closed the door and snapped the lock. The click sounded like a verdict. “Tell me everything.”
Carlos hesitated. That was all the invitation Luc needed. He advanced until the space between them was charged. “Don’t stall. Don’t think. How did he get the drop on you?”
Carlos’s jaw worked. “I was distracted.”
“By what?” Luc demanded.
Guilt passed over Carlos’s face like a shadow. “I thought you’d made a mistake letting her go. I thought it would start a war. I thought… I could prevent it.” He swallowed. “I had a gun aimed at her, and then I was shot. I did not even notice that John was following me as I followed Mia’s trail. I was careless.”
Luc’s reaction was a blur. His hand struck the side of Carlos’s face—hard, precise. Carlos didn’t cry out; he tasted blood and blinked it away.
“You disobeyed me,” Luc said, quiet and lethal. “I told you to let her go. You hesitated. That’s your sin.”
Carlos looked up, expression flat, stripped of bravado. “I thought she made you weak.”
Luc’s voice dropped, softer than a blade. “No. She made me human.”
Regret flashed in Carlos’s eyes. “I’d pinned a tracker to her pocket long before she got in the car. If she still wears her clothes, you should be able to find her.”
Luc turned toward the door.
Carlos asked. “You’re not going to kill me?”
Luc paused in the doorway. “No.”
Relief flickered across Carlos’s features. Luc watched it die as Carlos held his stare. “But hear me,” Luc said, each word measured. “If she is harmed in any way, I will make your life a litany of pain before I give you death. You will understand fear and pain in every breath you take.”
Carlos went pale. Luc didn’t look back as he left the room.
Mia, I am coming… wait for me.
