Page 139 of Twisted Temptation

DANTE

My Maserati tears through the night. I drive fast toward the coordinates Anton sent, my eyes fixed and unblinking on the road ahead, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

My mind races through a hundred different scenarios, then lands on the memory of my mother’s death, and what losing her did to my father.

That isn’t what is happening here.

I will get Sunny back. Alive and unharmed.

Because life without my bride is not an option in this scenario.

Anton’s coordinates lead to an industrial block just outside the city limits. Old brick buildings and lots of shadows.

The building is lit from within, a yellow glow I see through the frosted windows on the second floor.

I kill the engine and step out of the car.

The night air smells like salt water and diesel, and I drag in a deep breath to settle the rage polluting my veins. If I don’t, I will kill Anton with my bare fucking hands the moment I see him.

Walking across the asphalt, I make my way toward the building’s entrance.

His soldiers tense as I approach.

They know who I am.

I stop at the door. "Your boss is expecting me."

One of them speaks into his phone, and the door opens.

Inside is what I expected. A stripped warehouse with dim lighting, concrete floors, and the lingering smell of Anton Grazalov’s desperation.

Anton Grazalov stands just inside the entrance, legs apart, hands clasped in front of him. A smug smile on his ugly face. I plan to wipe it off with my bare hands.

He’s much shorter than I imagined, and the shiny silver suit he wears does nothing but show his thin, unimpressive frame.

He stares at me.

I stare back.

He sees a man who came alone as instructed.

I see a dead man who had to kidnap a woman to get a meeting with me.

Beside him stands his right-hand man, Flynn Lemar, and another one of Anton’s soldiers.

"Where the fuck is my wife?"

"Search him," Anton says without taking his eyes off me.

Flynn steps forward. He immediately finds my firearm, ejects the magazine, checks the chamber, and holds it up for Anton to see.

Satisfied, Anton nods.

As the pat-down continues, I remain completely non-responsive. My pulse steady, my breathing even, my eyes trained on the dead man in front of me.

Flynn doesn’t check the base of the spine, which is good because my Ruger lives in that gap.

"He's clean," Flynn says.