I hold Riccardo’s gaze for a moment and smirk a little. See, you have to learn from me. Riccardo’s gaze darts to my lips, and for a second, it feels like he’s gonna step closer-but I turn away before he can do anything. I can’t waste my time on deciphering him.
“There is a secluded place in our territory. It’s an abandoned boat rental on the shore, close to the border. Close to home.” The interpreter translates Edgar’s stuttering mess without a hitch, and my heart picks up its pace despite the cool mask on my face. “I don’t know if that’s the place… but Father could have taken your son there, Signora.”
“Can you show it on the map?”
Edgar shakily nods, ignoring the curses and furious glares of the other three; only Diego remains quiet, glancing at me from time to time. It’s always easier to go down the route of betrayal, so Edgar barely hesitates before pointing at the exact place on the map on my phone. That’s enough for me, and I get up on my feet and turn to the door. It’s gonna take some thirty minutes. Shit. Still too much, but-
“Hey, where are you going?”
Riccardo catches my elbow when I’m already in the hallway-as much as a narrow passage in the labyrinth of a basement can be. I purse my lips and turn to him sharply. “Where do you think? I’m going to get my son.”
“You can’t go there on your own,” Riccardo says with intensity in his words, holding my gaze as if trying to read me. “It’s too dangerous. Wait until we gather enough people.”
Dangerous. I chuckle joylessly and shake my head, yanking my elbow out of his grip.
“I am going to get my son,” I repeat every word, glaring at him. “While you’re gathering your pawns, they may be torturing Max like we did to them.”
I wave my hand at the door behind which the Mexicans’ screams grow louder. Riccardo has ordered Marco and Omero to keep only Diego alive, and my heart tightens at the thought of Max going through the same on his own. I shake my head and look at Riccardo again.
“I don’t care if it’s dangerous. Edgar sold his life for his fiance. I will do the same if it means my son will be free.”
It looks like Riccardo wants to add something, but I don’t have time for bickering. We’re not in college anymore. He can be mad at me later- right now, I need to save Max, so I storm out of the basement before he can try and stop me again.
It’s already dark outside when I rush out of the warehouse and stop in the middle of the parkway. Shit. I forgot that I don’t have my car here. How am I supposed to get there? I look around, considering which car would be the easiest to steal, when one of them suddenly flashes its lights. The door audibly clicks open. What?
“I can’t let my wife get into trouble on her own. It’s too much of a bother to search for another one.”
That cocky bastard. I huff out loud and, without a glance Riccardo’s way, go to his car. I climb into the driver’s seat out of habit, but he holds the door before I can close it and beckons me to get out.
“I’m driving.”
What? I stare at him for a moment. “I’m not gonna wait for your men.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Riccardo grabs my wrist and tugs me out of the car until I’m standing right in front of him, our chests almost touching. I look up at him, too stressed and confused to think properly, and he catches my gaze with that smug stupid look of his. “I’m going with you.”
Oh. Okay. I have no say in it anyway, so I choose not to waste any more time and rush to take the passenger seat. If he wants to drive, even better. It gives me time to send one important text before we take off.
Thankfully, Riccardo turns out to be a good and quiet driver. He doesn’t slow down, and he doesn’t care about the rules, driving as fast as possible without hitting anyone on the night streets of Chicago. The rush hour is only just starting to dissipate, so Riccardo manages to find better routes than the navigator, keeping our destination in his mind.
Both of us keep silent, not bothering each other with more than a couple of short orders or questions. I like it more than Riccardo attempting to distract me with some meaningless chatting. He wasn’t particularly talkative even in college, and now his status and life experience must’ve taken away the last keys to the doors of his heart.
Why does the thought feel so bitter? I shouldn’t care about him at all, and I swallow the growing lump in my throat and switch my attention to the bright lights behind the window. I can already see the shoreline from here, and it makes my heart tighten. God, please, let Max be safe. For whatever reason they stole him, please, let them be gentle with him. Let them be humans.
“Your son,” Riccardo says all of a sudden, breaking the quiet hum of the car, and I startle a little and glance at him. We’re almost there. What does he want to talk about now? “I’m curious about him.”
I swallow and look away out the window again, curling my hands on my lap a little tighter. Is this good or bad? Something tells me that it’s the second one-although maybe I’m just thinking too much.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you see,” Riccardo begins with a carelessness that sounds too fake to be true. “I’ve told Matteo to find all the information there is on you and your son. Where you lived for the last eight years, how you got there, where you worked, and what school Max used to attend. We know about his art classes and your vacations in Florida.”
With every word leaving his mouth, I grow tense to the point that my breath becomes heavier. Shit, shit, shit. This is something I’ve been scared of since I stepped foot in Chicago. The Messina Clan has enough power and connections to dig out everything on me-but was he able to find my secret? I glance at Riccardo from the corner of my eye, and as if feeling it, he chuckles.
“We’ve found everything except for the only thing that was truly important to me.” He raises his index finger off the steering wheel, and in his voice, I hear notes of his heart. “No one seems to know who Max’s father is. No one-except for you.”
Damn it. I bite my lip and look away, ignoring the obvious pause that he leaves for me to speak up. But I am not going to do this, I’m-No. Not now. So I keep my lips sealed as if the silence doesn’t grow heavier with every passing second.
“Elena.” I refuse to budge, keeping my unfocused eyes on the glittering darkness of the ocean outside. “Eight years ago. Did you have anyone else but me?”
I close my eyes as my heart jumps into a frantic rhythm. I can’t say it now, I can’t-and the world hears my plea because the next moment, we hear the quiet beep of the navigator.
“Your destination is on the right.”