Page 75 of His Captive
I nod and shake Theo’s hand, then tolerate a quick hug. I’d like to tell him goodbye and thank him for a few things, but that would be out of character for me. It would definitely raise some suspicions. Truthfully, Theo has been more like an uncle to me than one of my father’s business associates. He was the one who taught me how to hold a gun when I was in elementary school—much to my mother’s displeasure.
“I’ll see you around, Theo,” I say, turning away before I let my emotions show.
Lea has brought so many emotions to the surface I’m having trouble bottling them like I usually do. I shake my head to clear it as I walk toward the hotel exit. As soon as I’m outside, I pause and pull my phone out.
I don’t really want to talk to my father, considering the next call he’s going to get will be about my death, but I need to know what is going on with Leo. My brother and I aren’t as close as we used to be. His decision to turn to the cloth had a lot to do with it. But he’s still family.
I apprehensively tap my phone and hold it up to my ear.
“Dad?” I ask. “Theo just stopped me in the lobby. What’s going on with Leo?”
“He’s missing!” my father fires back in his usual gruff voice. “His office was torn apart, and they can’t find him anywhere. Have you heard from him recently?”
“No,” I answer truthfully. “It’s been several weeks.”
“Fuck,” my father growls. “Okay, I’ve got my guys on it. If you hear anything, call me. And come see me as soon as you get back to Las Vegas. We need to talk about a few other things, too.”
“Sure thing,” I mutter, ending the call.
Part of me wants to call around and try to figure out what happened to Leo, but Ronaldo is already waiting by the car. I’m sure the hitman is nearby. If I delay too much, he may not wait until I’m in the car, and I don’t want to be lying on the ground with my things all around me when Lea comes through the doors.
“Ronaldo,” I say, motioning to him as I approach. “Open the trunk.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Morandi!” he replies, hurrying to the back of the car.
It’s not the first time Leo has disappeared. The last time it happened, we found him in the worst part of Las Vegas, drowning his painful memories in a bottle of whiskey. I can relate to that. Sometimes, they’re too painful to ignore.
There’s no reason for Emilio to go after Leo. He’d be next in line after me, but Leo made his decision about the family years ago. Even if he wanted to come back, the door wouldn’t swing wide open for him. That was made clear when he left.
“I hope you find peace one day, brother,” I sigh, walking to the back door of the luxury sedan.
“What was that, sir?” Ronaldo asks.
“Nothing,” I mutter, getting into the car.
The door slams and I let out a sharp exhale. This is it. In a matter of minutes, a man will walk up to the side of my car. He’ll look like a lost tourist until he fires a single shot, drops the gun, and vanishes into the crowd. He never misses and he’s never been caught. My brother spared no expense and chose the absolute best.
A shadow appears outside the window, and I take a deep breath. I wondered if I would turn and stare into the barrel of the gun or close my eyes. I don’t do either one. I stare ahead in a daze, thinking about Lea, and the precious moments we shared.
“Goodbye,bambina,” I whisper, waiting for the end.
The shadow gets closer. I see the outline of a gun in my peripheral vision. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, I choke up as I imagine Lea mourning me. Giving into the same malice and poison that I allowed to devour my soul.
Then the gun fires. The window shatters. Hot, scalding pain shoots through my right arm. I look down and see blood. Panic erupts around us and people run screaming in every direction.
“Fuck,” I growl, looking at the hitman through the broken glass. He has a blank look on his face. “Finish the fucking job!”
But he doesn’t. He puts a hand on the car, and it’s covered in blood. He slumps forward, and I see a knife with a cherry-wood handle sticking out of his back. If that wasn’t enough of a shock,I see Lea standing behind him. She’s trembling and all the color is drained out of her tearstained face.
“I’m sorry!” she squeals. “I didn’t know how else to stop him! He already had his gun drawn!”
“Lea, what the hell did you do?” I roar, holding my arm as I get out of the car.
“Mr. Morandi! Are you okay!?” Ronaldo asks, hurrying to my side.
“I’m fine!” I growl. “Get back in the car!”
There’s chaos all around us. People are screaming. The hitman is on the ground. It looks like he’ll live, but the knife has done some damage.
