Mafia Betrayal

Chapter Fifty Two

Luca

I gripped the handle on the inside of the car door the entire way into town. I had to focus on something, and right now, that handle was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. If we went much farther, though, I might pull it right off.

Charlotte had been gone for four hours now. They had been torturing her and beating her and God knows what else for four fuckin' hours. Two hundred and forty minutes of pain and horror and fear, wondering if I was coming for her, wondering what she had done to deserve this. Fourteen thousand seconds I would never get back. That is, if she was alive.

I tried to focus my mind on finding her and whoever the hell was responsible for this, but I couldn't get that image out of my mind. As long as I lived, I never would. My beautiful, innocent Charlotte on a dirty boat floor, naked and cold. Her flawless skin marred with bruises and cuts and drag marks, her beautiful coffee curls matted with blood. I could almost vomit just thinking about it. These sick bastards would pay gravely for what they were doing to her—I'd make sure of it.

We'd gotten in contact with the Italian branch of the Romano family and Seth and Gabe were with them right now, tracking down a plethora of leads of their own. I had my mind on one specific guy, and I was sure he'd know who had her.

Angelo pulled up to the curb of Rafael's club and put the car in park. If that motherfucker was here, he wouldn't walk out alive. I liked Rafael. He always treated us well, but if he was harboring someone who had hurt my wife and got in my way, he'd die, too. "How do you want to play this?"

I ignored his comment and jumped out of the car. I had a plan, and I didn't need anyone's help to execute it. This was my fault. Bringing Charlotte home was my responsibility, and I was going to handle this in my own way.

"Luca, wait." Angelo called, and I heard the footsteps of both Angelo and Marco behind me.

I charged forward, nearly throwing the door off of its hinges. I got a few looks from patrons of the bar but stalked into the back room where all the poker games took place. In seconds, I was face to face with the guy from the other night, sitting in the same damn seat with a pile of chips in front of him. A stubby cigarette hung out of his cracked lips and he wore a stupid grin.

"Catalano, come to steal more of my money?" He chuckled when he saw me.

Without wasting another second, I grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head into the table. The sound of crunching bone filled the air and when I pulled him back, blood was pouring out of his nose like a fountain.

"Luca, what the fuck?" Rafael said, appearing at the door. Marco and Angelo both peered over his shoulder, wide-eyed.

I ignored him, pulling this bastard up by his collar and slamming him into the wall, pressing my forearm against his throat until he was gasping for air. Just before he passed out, I laid off, giving him a second to catch his breath. As much as I wanted to drain the life from this guy, I needed answers first.

"Where the fuck is she?" I hissed, not even recognizing the voice that was coming out of my mouth. Something had completely taken over me.

The man grinned. I don't have the slightest clue who you're talking about."

I sucker punched him again and again, feeling his fragile ribs cracking under my fist. It rejuvenated me, encouraging me to push him farther and farther.

"You know exactly what I am talking about." I growled. "Where is my wife?"

"The pretty brunette?" He smirked, flashing me his brown and crooked teeth. I kneed him right in the groin.