Bound by Hatred (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #3)(22)

“I don’t want him to get hurt so I reduced the dosage they listed on the packaging.”

“Okay. It still should be enough to knock him out for a while, right?”

Aria nodded. “We should probably tie him up. I found duct tape in the gun cupboard.”

She knew where her husband kept his guns? “Luca must really trust you.”

Aria didn’t say anything and I felt bad for bringing him up. Did I have to remind her how she was risking her marriage for me?

“Come on,” she said after a moment. “Let’s do this. Matteo and Luca will be back in a few hours. We should be gone by then.”

After another look toward Sandro who was still reading something on his phone, she quickly handed me the syringe. I hid it behind my back as we strolled toward Sandro who finally looked up from his phone and set it down on the counter.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked with a nod toward his own cup. He was polite and his brown eyes were friendly. He didn’t look very threatening, but I didn’t let that fool me.

Aria leaned next to him against the counter and pressed a palm to her stomach.

Sandro frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling so good,” she said, then her legs buckled. It was a bit over the top if you asked me, but Sandro must have acted without thinking because he reached for her. My chance.

My arm shot out and I rammed the syringe into the back of his thigh and injected the tranquilizer. Sandro hissed, let go of Aria and lashed out instinctively. He caught my arm and I was thrown against the kitchen island, my back colliding painfully. I swallowed a cry.

“What the f*ck?” he gasped, eyes furious as they darted between Aria and me. He reached for his phone but Aria shoved it away. It flew off the counter, crashed to the ground and skidded over the marble. Sandro staggered toward it, his movement already less coordinated than usual. I quickly rushed toward the phone and kicked it away. “Where’s the stupid tape?”

Aria nodded and rushed away.

Sandro glared at me. “What are you doing?” he growled. He advanced on me, his hand fumbling for the gun in his chest holster. Did he want to hold us at gun point?

He didn’t get very far. His legs gave away and he fell to his knees. He shook his head like a dog, then tried to stand again.

“Aria!” I screamed. What if this didn’t work? What if our plan was over before it had really begun?

“I’m coming!” She ran toward me with the tape. “Grab his arms.”

I tried to pull Sandro’s arms behind his back, but he was too strong even in his dazed state. He shook me off.

“It’s not enough tranquilizer!”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Aria said panicky.

I tried to grip his arms again but he managed to stagger back to his feet, pushing me out of the way. Aria moved quickly and thrust the second syringe into his leg. This time he dropped to his knees almost instantly, then fell to his side. Aria and I made quick work out of tying him up, then she touched his throat.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, it seems so. I hope we didn’t give him too much.”

“He’s a tall guy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I got up. Aria did the same and then she rushed off again. A few minutes later she returned with a huge stack of dollar notes as well as two passports. For a moment I thought she’d decided to go with me and that was why there wasn’t only one passport, then I realized how ridiculous that thought was.

“Here.” She handed me everything. “That’s about ten thousand dollars. That should get you by for a while, and two passports just in case. But you should really get rid of them once you’re in Europe.”

I stuffed everything into my bag, then grabbed my suitcase.

“Ready?” Aria asked, hesitating.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She didn’t return my smile, only glanced at Sandro again before setting her phone down on the counter. I did the same to prevent them from tracking us.

We took the elevator down and hailed a taxi. Traffic was on our side and we pulled up in front of the JFK airport after forty-five minutes.

After we’d entered the departure area, I headed straight to the ticket counter to buy a one-way ticket to Amsterdam while Aria stayed back; the photo in the passport looked more like her than me and if we stood beside each other nobody would have been fooled.

I gingerly slid the fake passport across the counter. The woman barely glanced at the photo, despite the fact that I didn’t have blond hair like the girl in it. She probably thought I’d dyed them red. Twenty minutes later, I walked over to Aria with the ticket to freedom in my hand. I’d have thought I’d feel more excited, instead nerves twisted my stomach so tightly I worried I’d throw up, but I couldn’t let Aria see it.

“So how did it go?” she asked nervously.

I waved the ticket in response. “She didn’t even ask about my hair.”

“That’s good, but once you’re in Amsterdam, you need to change your appearance.”

I smiled, touched by her concern and at the same time wondering if I was really doing the right thing. This could be the last time I ever saw Aria. I couldn’t even imagine a year without her, much less the rest of my life. “Don’t worry.”