Page 79 of Wicked Truths
Footsteps pound toward the bathroom, and Lia bursts through the door. “Amara! What’s wrong?”
20
Dom
I slam my fistagainst the desk as I pace my office, phone pressed against my ear. The rage inside me threatens to boil over, consuming every rational thought and making me want to kill.
“You promised me results, Anderson. It’s been three days.” My voice is dangerously low.
“De Luca, I’m doing everything I can,” the mayor’s voice crackles through the line. “The police commissioner is asking questions about why I’m interfering with an active investigation.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your political problems.” I stop at the window, staring out at the ocean. “My stepdaughter is lying upstairs with half her face smashed in, and my son is still missing. Someone has to pay.”
“The raid was legitimate—”
“Bullshit!” I roar. “That club has operated for fifteen years without issue.” Suddenly there’s a raid the exact night Amara is there? The night her blackmailer got their information.
I don’t tell him that. He could be involved.
“It was going to happen one day.”
A growl rattles up my throat, but I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Losing control won’t help Amara or find Rafe.
“Mayor Anderson, let me be very clear. I have documentation of every payment I’ve made to your campaign over the last decade. I have recordings of our conversations about the waterfront development. I have photos of you at my establishments with women who aren’t your wife. One who happened to be my wife.”
Silence hangs between us.
“And I have pictures of you meeting my stepdaughter. Why was that?”
“Her mother asked me to talk to her about going into politics. Apparently, Amara didn’t have a clear direction of what she wanted to do. It was just...”
“Over dinner?” My voice comes out rough and low. “Not your office? It looks like more than a meeting about Amara’s future. And if the photos get out...”
I leave the sentence unfinished. He knows exactly what I’m implying.
He gasps. “You can’t—”
“I can and I will. Pull whatever strings you need to pull. Get me the name of whoever tipped off the police. And find my son.”
“De Luca, I don’t have that kind of power—”
“Youdo. Fix it.”
A piercing scream cuts through the air, coming from upstairs.
“Fix it,” I snarl into the phone before ending the call.
I bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs. I burst into Amara’s bedroom, but she’s not there. Then I hear sobbing and find her collapsed on the bathroom floor in Lia’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” Lia says, looking up at me with guilt-filled eyes. “I should have gone into the bathroom with her. She saw her face.”
I shake my head, my anger instantly dissolving at the sight of Amara’s pain. Inside, my heart is breaking. My piccola, broken and scared, and not even knowing who she is anymore.
“It’s fine,” I say softly. “I’ll take her,”
I bend down and lift her gently into my arms. She feels so fragile. Sounds so fragile.
Her tears soak into my shirt as I carry her to the bed and sit down, cradling her against my chest.
