Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I get back in the car, yeah, I get it,” I say, hoping the snarky tone hides my shaking hands and pounding heart. I wipe my sweaty hands on my legs. “You, uh, got an extra gun or something? Didn’t have time to grab mine.”
Giorgio smirks, as if to say this isn’t a joking matter.
I’m not joking.
“You think I want you to shoot my head off?”
Of all the— “I happen to be very skilled at handling a weapon.”
Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head.
“You know how Mr. Montavio feels about that.”
“I do, but these seem like…. unusual circumstances. And maybe what Mr. Montavio doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
But I’m not sure they heard me. They’re talking on these little device things in their ears and gesturing at each other. I catch what sounds like Sergio’s voice but can’t hear a word anyone’s actually saying.
Bella Notte’s beautiful tonight. Discreetly tucked between brownstones in Boston, there’s nothing but an elegant sign in gilded letters that claims what this is.
Bella Notte
An Exclusive Night Club
Members Only
Ha. Guess that makes me a member?
As soon as we exit the car, the elusive door to Bella Notte swings open, revealing another swarm of scary men in suits. I lose track of what’s happening as I’m escorted inside, flanked on all sides by men that would take a bullet for me only because that’s their job.
It’s a strange, unsteady feeling, and I’m not sure I like it.
“Come this way, please,” Giorgio says, leading me into a hallway. To the right are telltale noises of a kitchen in full swing. Ahead of me, there’s a door that leads into a bar area, but Giorgio opens a different door before we get there. I try to peek over his shoulder, but he takes me by the hand and pulls me through the door.
Our steps are silent on the descending flight of stairs, the atmosphere becoming thinner and cooler as we head down. I have no idea where we are. It smells faintly musty, but everything at Bella Notte is clean and well cared for, so I’m not surprised when my feet actually hit carpet at the bottom of the stairs.
My eyes widen. I stand still, taking in every detail.
Whoa.
“Where are we?” I whisper.
Giorgio smiles at me. “Look around, Starla. Where do you think we are? There’s an old Italian saying: If you want to hide the treasure, put it in plain sight.”
I stare all around me. A large safe is embedded in one wall, with a complicated series of locks. A fridge, some stacked cases of bottled water. Extensive first aid kit. Sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets. An arsenal of weapons—guns, knives, pepper spray. Chargers and batteries, piles of neatly folded clothing.
“The doors are reinforced, and every inch here is protected by security.”
“I see,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure I do.
It’s a safe house, planted in the basement of an exclusive, members-only club, outfitted to house someone — or several someones — for a long period of time.
Voices come from under a door in front of us. I pause, frowning. There’s something vaguely familiar about one of those voices. I feel as if I’m hearing the voice of someone I knew in a past life.
Giorgio turns and looks at me, his face uncharacteristically pained. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
I stare at him and refrain from kicking him in the nuts, even though I very, very much want to.
“Open the fucking door.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Starla
The room is dimly-lit and smells like a hospital room — antiseptic, cleanser, and a faint hint of rubbing alcohol. My stomach tightens. I take a deep breath.
Sergio’s on his feet, blocking my view of a bed — no, it’s a stretcher? Eden sees me and her mouth parts as she rushes to me, her long blonde hair fluttering behind her.
“You weren’t supposed to bring her here,” she snaps at Giorgio. I blink in surprise, staying still as I try to observe everything. Something’s off. Peaceful, implacable Eden never snaps at people.
“Where was I supposed to go, then?” he snaps back, and Sergio hisses out a growl.
“Watch your fucking tone of voice with my wife. That’s your one and only warning.” If looks could kill, Giorgio would be a dead man.
Giorgio immediately realizes his error and blanches. “I’m sorry, boss. I took her to where I thought you instructed.”
Eden and Sergio share a look before Sergio shoots a brief but troubled glance behind him.
My belly swoops, making me suddenly nauseous and lightheaded.
There’s someone on that stretcher. Someone they don’t want me to see.
A chill skates down my spine while I instantly take it all in.
“Eden.” I barely recognize my own voice. I swallow and moisten my lips. “Please.”
Eden steps aside.
I…
My hand covers my mouth, holding back a gasp of shock.
Timeo.
Clad in dirty, ripped clothing that barely covers his skin. An unkempt beard longer than I’ve ever seen him wear. He’s bloodied and bruised, but…breathing.