Page 58 of It Destroys Me

Axel dropped his gaze, like he didn’t know what to say. He remained that way for a long time before he looked at me again. “He’ll come back, Astrid. I know he will.”

“How…?”

He was quiet for a while, staring at me as he tried to find the words. “He knows you’ll be at risk if he loses, and he’s not going to let that happen.”

Chapter 10

Theo

I called Octavio the second I dropped off Astrid. I didn’t have time to mourn the separation. Didn’t have time to worry about her. Now, she was Axel’s responsibility, and I trusted he would care for her the way I would care for Scarlett if our situations were reversed. I gathered my closest guys and told them to prepare, without telling them the location or the target.

Because I was paranoid.

If Bolton knew I was coming, it would make my life difficult. It would decrease my odds of victory. He must have known I would torture his colleagues until I got the information I wanted, so there was always a chance that the Carson tip-off was just a setup.

I was prepared for any scenario.

We took two Hummers out of the city and made the drive to Rome. A commute during the day would take hours with traffic, but in the middle of the night with no cars on the road, it took us no time at all.

I hadn’t spent a lot of time in Rome, but it reminded me of Florence, with the cathedrals and ancient buildings with walls full of history that no one remembered. I’d already pulled Carson’s information myself so no one would know I had that intel. I had her address, a nice apartment that seemed out of a single woman’s budget.

Which told me that Bolton had paid for it. It was more than an affair. He was a fucking sugar daddy. Putting his mistress in a beautiful apartment so she would keep her mouth shut and not blow up his marriage.

Despicable.

I stared at the building from the street, seeing that all the windows were dark because the lights were out. It was a single building with two luxury apartments, and she occupied the one that faced the street.

Which meant it was easy to see.

Octavio was behind the wheel, smoking his cigar with the window cracked as we remained parked at the curb. “How do you want to play this? Just blow the place to hell or sweep it?”

“There’s a woman in there.”

“So?” Octavio asked.

“Adultery isn’t a crime, so she doesn’t deserve to be blown to hell.”

“The Pope will tell you otherwise.”

I continued. “I’m not even sure if he’s inside.”

“Should have had me stake it earlier.”

I didn’t trust anyone right now. “Let’s move.” Astrid had told me Bolton was a night owl and usually went to bed at two in the morning. It was three-thirty now, so he should be out for the night.

We left the cars and crossed the street. No cars were on the road, just a couple parked along the side of the street. As far as I could tell, there was no security posted on the block. That could mean two things. Either Bolton actually wasn’t there, or he wanted to give the illusion that he wasn’t.

We were about to find out which.

It was a private building, so each apartment had its own entrance. Carson’s door was equipped with a keycard lock and a passcode, security that was too advanced for someone who lived an ordinary life.

I stepped outside and let Tyson handle it, my tech guy who could hack anyone he wanted to. He pulled his equipment from his bag and began the process of breaking into the system, tricking it into thinking it had received the keycard and the passcode, and then a couple minutes later, the door clicked as it opened.

I went first, pistol in my hand with the bulletproof vest secured around my chest and torso. I’d been shot a couple times, and it was always a bitch to dig out the bullet and sew up the wound. Ink could hide scars but not erase them.

It was a three-story apartment, and the downstairs was the foyer, the sitting room, the kitchen, and the grand dining room. A wineglass was on the kitchen counter, a drop of white wine sitting at the bottom. The smell of dinner was in the air, like someone had cooked in the kitchen in the last few hours.

I did a sweep downstairs, and my guys did the same, checking closets and pantries in complete silence. My experience as a cop had taught me skills that criminals didn’t have. I’d passed that knowledge on to my guys, and we were able to move and communicate without saying a word.