Bound by Hatred (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #3)(24)

I didn’t say anything. I was too pissed. My pulse was pounding in my temples. I wanted to smash every f*cking piece of furniture into tiny bits. The bedroom door finally opened and Luca came down the stairs. From the look on his face I knew I wouldn’t like what he had to say.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t get anything out of her,” I snarled.

Luca scowled. “The only thing I know is that Gianna took a plane from JFK. Aria won’t tell me anything, but our informants will let me know which plane Gianna took soon.”

“Great,” I muttered. “And then what? Aria knows Gianna’s plan. They told each other everything. The only way to find Gianna is through your wife.”

“She won’t tell me anything.”

I tried walking past him. “Then let me have a word with her.”

Luca grasped my arm and pushed me back. “You will stay away from her, Matteo.”

“You let her steal your money, your passports. You let her attack our men, let her make a fool out of you and betray you. You should want to punish her. You are Capo.”

Luca’s eyes flashed. I was walking on thin ice but I didn’t give a f*ck.

“Aria is my wife. It’s none of your business how I deal with her. I told you that Gianna meant trouble but you didn’t want to listen. You should have never asked for her hand,” he growled.

My fingers longed to grip my knives. I turned my back on him and stalked out onto the roof garden. I needed to cool off before I lashed out at my own brother. Luca and I had fought occasionally when we were younger but it had never been for real. I had a feeling that a fight between us wouldn’t end well today. We were both royally pissed and out for blood.

I braced my arms against the banister and let my eyes wander over New York. Gianna was slipping through my fingers. With every second that passed she was bringing more distance between herself and me. Once she landed wherever she was going, she wouldn’t stop running until she was sure she was safe. She’d be alone, unprotected. What if something happened to her?

Steps crunched behind me and I tensed but didn’t look over my shoulder. Luca stopped beside me. “I called Scuderi. He’s furious and blames us of course.”

“Of course,” I said quietly.

“He’s sending two of his men after Gianna.”

“I will go with them.”

“I figured you would. I told Scuderi as much. You will meet them in Amsterdam.”

I turned. “Amsterdam?”

Luca nodded. “I got word that she took a plane to Schiphol.”

“When do I leave?” I asked, the thrill of the impending hunt spreading in my veins.

“Four hours.”

“I need to leave sooner.”

“Impossible. I tried everything I could.”

“Damn it. Gianna will be long gone when I arrive.”

“You’ll find her. You are the best hunter I know. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

I clapped his shoulder. “You let me go, even though you need me here.”

“You aren’t of much use to me if all you can think about is Gianna.”

“It could take weeks,” I said. “I won’t return until I’ve caught her.”

“I know. If Aria had run, I would have done the same.”

I nodded. I wouldn’t stop until Gianna was mine. I didn’t care if I had to search the entire world, if I had to turn every single stone, if I had to squeeze information out of every f*cking person in Amsterdam, I would find Gianna.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Gianna

I barely got any sleep in the six hours it took the plane to reach Amsterdam. Worry for Aria had taken the place of worrying about getting caught. She was sure Luca wouldn’t see her actions as betrayal, but what if she was wrong? God, what had I done? I shouldn’t have involved her, shouldn’t even have told her about my intention to run away.

When I finally got off the plane and had successfully passed through immigration, I slipped into the first restroom I found and locked myself into one of the small stalls. At the bottom of my bag was the wig Aria had given me. It was long and blond. Nobody would be fooled by it close up, but it would only have to do until I dyed my hair later today.

Fear clogged my throat when I headed into the waiting area, half expecting someone from New York or the Outfit to wait for me, but that was impossible. Even if Matteo had figured out where I was by now, I was fairly sure that the Cosa Nostra didn’t have close relations to any crime syndicates in the Netherlands, and it would take some time for mobsters from Sicily to travel up all the way to Amsterdam. For now I was safe. At least until the next plane from the East Coast landed in Schiphol, which would be the case in a few hours.

I quickly left the airport with my suitcase, overwhelmed by the sound of people speaking in languages I didn’t understand. I knew a few words in Dutch but hadn’t bothered learning the language; the Netherlands had never been intended as more than a stopover.

I hailed a taxi and let it take me to a non-descript middle-class hotel in the city where I booked their cheapest room. Despite feeling tired from jetlag and the flight, I only deposited my suitcase in the room before venturing out again to buy a few items I needed.

Two hours later I was back in my small hotel room with light brown hair dye, scissors, a couple of new outfits that helped me fit in better than my super expensive designer clothes, as well as a pre-paid cell phone and a small laptop. After I’d connected my laptop with the wireless internet of the hotel and set up the blog Aria and I had talked about, I wrote a short post, saying that a new journey had begun and that I’d safely arrived at my destination. It was all a bit cryptic and nobody would probably read my blog except for Aria. I resisted the urge to write something more personal, or worse use my new phone to call her. I wanted to hear her voice, wanted to know if she was okay, but I couldn’t risk it. Even this blog was already risky. Instead I slipped into the bathroom and changed my hair.