Page 16 of Dimitri
Something about India rubs me the wrong way. She’s supposed to be an innocent like Audrey, but her eyes reveal she’s nothing close to that. They’re as evil as mine, and it isn’t just a hankering for danger firing them.
“Dimitri, quick. It’s Justine.” To a stranger, she sounds worried. In reality, she’s just out of breath. The only exercise she does is running her mouth. She can’t even tick sex off as strenuous activity. I haven’t bedded her—much to her disappointment—but I’ve heard rumors. “Your father caught her on the way out. He isn’t happy.”
“Col is back?” Nothing but shock highlights my tone. I wasn’t lying when I told Justine he was out of town. I would have never brought her here if I had an inkling he was returning early. That’s just asking for trouble. He has issues with anyone coming between him and his foot soldiers. It’s one of the reasons I focused my search for the culprits of Audrey’s kidnapping closer to home the past few months. There are too many missing pieces of the puzzle for me to believe the Castros are acting alone. They’ve had help, and I’m just really fucking praying it isn’t someone within these walls. If it is, my family name will be tarnished more than it’s ever been.
My gut twists when India nods her head. “He’s sending her to the Gauntlet.”
I curse out loud this time around. The Gauntlet is where my father sends people to die in the most inhumane way possible. Torture. Gang rape. The dismemberment of multiple parts of your body. He chooses his punishment on a whim. There’s no rhyme or reason to his process other than undeniable proof that he’s a madman.
India’s eyes bounce between mine and Rocco’s while asking, “Are you coming? I doubt she has long.”
I jerk up my chin, commencing my lie in a nonverbal way. “Head down. I’ll be right behind you.”
She doesn’t believe a word I’m speaking, but she’s aware she’ll take Justine’s place if she dares to go against my direct order. “I’ll do everything I can to delay things.”
I wait for India to disappear in the compound before racing into the bunker to yank off a dusty tarp from an old minecart. It was stolen decades ago when Bronte’s Peak was blasted into a cliff edge partway between Ravenshoe and Erkinsvale. We call it the Range Rover because it has the tags Clover swiped from my father’s mint condition Range Rover last year.
Although the minecart is a rust bucket, it, along with the underground tunnel my father commenced drilling four decades ago, will get me to Ravenshoe in under twenty minutes.
I considered having my father’s head examined when he unveiled the finished project after too many glasses of port when I was sixteen. Now I’m glad I encouraged his madness. I’ve only used this tunnel a handful of times, mainly to skip prosecution when shit went down at the underground fights we regularly hold on the outskirts of Ravenshoe, but you can’t put a price on having an unknown escape route.
I’ll never use it to hide from my enemies, but you can be assured I won’t hesitate using it to sneak up on them unaware. When you’re storming a compound, the last place you foresee being attacked is from behind. It will leave my enemies clueless while helping my empire grow.
While Rocco fills the Rover’s tank, I yank my phone out of my pocket and call the last person I expected to speak to tonight. Maddox answers two rings later, and even over the phone, I can tell he’s fuming mad. “I swear to fucking God, Dimitri, if you don’t bring my sister out here immediately, I’m going to wring your fucking neck.”
“If you want your sister to get out of tonight alive, I suggest you shut your mouth and listen to me.” My brutal tone immediately gets his attention. I doubt he’s even breathing. That’s how menacing my voice is. Although I’m not technically prioritizing Justine over Fien—it only takes one person to fill the gas tank, so I’m more utilizing my time wisely than fucking around—I still hate that I’m in this predicament to begin with. “Tell the goon manning the gate that you need to go to the Gauntlet, give him the passcode ‘cannon.’ When you arrive, fall to your knees and fucking beg. Say anything and everything Col wants to hear—”
“Dimitri…”I don’t know whether he pauses to catch his breath or to plot one of the many ways he plans to kill me. Whatever it is, he’s wasting time he can’t afford. My father has no patience whatsoever. Once he’s handed down a ruling, it isimmediatelyexecuted. If Justine isn’t dead, she’s walking straight toward it. “What the fuck is going on?”
When Rocco nudges up his chin, wordlessly announcing the Range Rover is good to go, I say down the line, “You said you’d die for your sister, right?”
I hear Maddox swallow before he pushes out, “Yeah.”
While slipping into the makeshift seat in the minecart next to Rocco, I mutter, “Tonight is your chance to prove that. Your life for hers, Maddox. I don’t see Col taking any less.”
Stealing his chance to reply, I press the end button on the screen of my cell, stuff it into my pocket, then tap on the roof of the Range Rover telling Rocco to floor it.
I never wanted to be a hero until I looked into the eyes of my daughter.
Tonight is my chance to become one.
* * *
My lungs wheeze in protest to the stuffy conditions, and I’m covered in dust, but as predicted, we make it out the other side of the tunnel in just under twenty minutes.
“Leave it uncovered, we don’t have time,” I tell Rocco when he commences sheltering the mineshaft cart with the camouflage netting he pulled off a real-life Range Rover. “Smith sent logistics to the Range Rover’s mainframe. The airstrip is eleven miles from here.” I lift and lock my eyes with his so he can see the urgency in them. “I need to be here ASAP. The jet is fueled and ready to go.”
“Give it to me.” After sliding into the driver’s seat, he snatches my phone out of my hand. His eyes zoom over the screen as he calculates the quickest route.
Once he’s confident he has his bearings right, he jabs his finger into the ignition button, fires up the engine, throws the gearshift in reverse, then peers over his shoulder. There’s nothing but scrub behind us, which he parts like the Red Sea two seconds later.
Spotting my shocked gawk, he mutters out, “Why go around when we can go over?”
He flashes me a wink that has me forgetting the direness of the situation for a few seconds before he whacks the gearshift into first to commence our trek over sandy plains.
We pop out onto one of the many freeways servicing Ravenshoe a couple of minutes later. Since it’s late, traffic is practically nonexistent.
The frantic beat of my heart slackens when I realize how close to the blue dot we are. Rocco’s shortcut shaved a good three to four minutes off our travel time.
