Page 97 of Fake Dark Vows

The elevator is waiting. “Sir? Where are you going?” The door closes as the guard picks up the phone to call through to whoever is on the top floor.

Luca Russo is walking out of his office to greet me when the elevator stops. A lazy smile spreads across his face, reminding me too much of Damon.

“Where’s Rose?” I demand.

“Good morning to you too.” He gestures to the open door of his office. “Shall we?”

I follow him inside. I don’t sit down.

“As you’re here, I’m guessing that your wife failed to convince you to change your mind.”

“Where is she?”

His eyes darken, the pupils enlarging until they seem to swallow whole any color that might’ve existed in the irises. “I don’t think you’re in any position to demand answers.”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want. Cancel the deal, and you might just be in time to save your wife.” His lips turn up at the corners, but he isn’t smiling.

“Leave her out of it. This has nothing to do with Rose.”

“Too late for that.”

“We’ll see what the cops have to say about it then.”

“Go ahead.” He turns the landline phone on his desk around and gestures for me to use it. “By the time they finish questioning you, it’ll be too late.”

Cold flushes through me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leans forward and checks the time in the corner of his computer screen. “I figure she has about six hours. If she’s lucky. If not…” He shrugs.

I lunge over the top of his desk, savoring the shock in his eyes before the top of my skull collides with his jaw. My hands close around his throat. “Where is she?”

His eyes bulge, and saliva drools from his open mouth, but his lips are still twitching at the corners in a sinister smile.

“You crazy fucker. Tell me where she is, or I swear I’ll?—”

“What?” he chokes out. “Kill me?”

I bash his head against the floor. I hear the sickening thud of bone on hardwood and ramp up the pressure around his neck. A blood vessel bursts in his right eye. Still, he keeps his gaze fixated on me, taunting, daring me to go right ahead and kill him, and see where it gets me.

“Where is she?” I grind out between clenched jaws.

“Somewhere … you’ll never … find her.”

I release him and he lies on the floor, motionless, while a bloody tear drips from the corner of his eye giving him a macabre appearance.

I turn around and walk out without a backward glance.

Six hours.

Ron is AWOL. Carlos Russo hasn’t been seen in a while, his sons are enjoying their little game, and I’m no closer to finding out where Rose is.

Outside, I rub a hand over my face and try to shake myself into action. Where do I even start?

An incoming call on my phone reveals my mother’s face. “Mom.”

“Brandon, is Rose with you?”