Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
The phone rings, and he answers it by tapping a button on his steering wheel.
"Yeah?"
I'm noting all sorts of interesting little facts. First, Ricco and his brothers have an interesting way of talking to each other, including a series of short, monosyllabic words, grunts, and sounds of approval or disapproval. Very interesting, and rather ape-like, yet it seems to get the job done. Second, I’m not sure there’s anything they can’t do.
"I think we have a location.” It sounds like Timeo on the line.
"Where?" Ricco taps the rectangular device on his dash, some sort of space-age GPS thing. "Tell me."
"There's a rest stop just outside Albany." Fuck.
“Albany? Jesus. That’s hours from here."
He taps the address that Timeo gives into his GPS. “It’ll take me three hours if I drive as fast as this fucking thing can go."
A different voice comes on the line. “Take the helicopter." Sergio?
Ricco nods. "Fucking perfect. What's faster? Helicopter? Jet?”
“For a short distance, helicopter. You're five minutes from where we can pick you up," Timeo says. “I’ll arrange it now. Let's go."
We take off. He's driving faster than I've ever seen anyone drive, and yet I feel safe, because he's competent. He's good at what he does. And I need to get to Emmy. Slower would frustrate me.
"You guys don't fuck around," I say to Ricco, and I must admit, I am impressed with their effectiveness and reach.
"When it comes to the people we love? We do not. Add children to the mix, and we’ll burn the city to the fucking ground."
I believe him.
And I’ve gotta admit, knowing what I do about the man I consider my ex-husband? With my daughter missing? I want a man by my side that will burn the city to the fucking ground. I want a man by my side that will do anything to protect us.
I want Ricco. With all his flaws, the moral ambiguity and fierce protection… I want all of it. The mobster and the single dad, the man that can make me a cup of coffee as easily as he can tie me up and spank my ass.
I don't want to think about us, not when we're trying to get Emmy back. Not when there's going to be a showdown with Nick. Not when we still have questions, questions that may or may not have answers. So I table that thought for now. But a little seed of hope is planted.
"Are you afraid to fly in a helicopter?" Ricco asks.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if I’m afraid of flying, afraid of heights, or closed spaces. If I have to take a helicopter, then take an elevator to the fortieth floor and skydive off a building to rescue her… I’ll do whatever I have to.” I stare at him. "Take me to her."
"That's my girl. I'm so proud of you. And I'm not just saying that because I want to get back together with you,” he says, almost like a little boy.
We pull down a side road. He drives so quickly that the trees whip past us in a blur.
"Can I see her?" I ask, my stomach in knots.
Reaching for my hand, he lays his on top of mine. "Let me see." He taps a button on the steering wheel again, and his brother answers.
"Can you get footage on the little girl?"
"Nah, man," Timeo says. "I'm sorry."
"I know how to," Sergio says. "Let me."
I don't know why I had it in my head that Sergio hated me, but I could kiss him right now.
"How the fuck did you figure out how to do that?" Timeo says, obviously impressed. I have no idea what "that” is, but I'm impressed too, because the next thing I know, a picture of Emmy pops up on Ricco’s screen. She's holding her stuffed animal, and sucking on her thumb, asleep in the back of the car. There's a crumpled McDonald's bag and an empty chocolate milk bottle on the seat beside her. She’s fed, and asleep, and she probably had chicken nuggets with sweet-and-sour sauce, which means that her belly is happy. I take in a deep breath and let it out, stifling the need to cry again. "Thank you. I owe you a favor, and don't tell me I don't, because I always make good on my promises."
I have no idea what someone can do as a favor to the head of the Boston mob, but I'll figure something out.
Ricco parks the car, takes me by the hand, and we run to where a helicopter waits, the chop of the blades deafening. "Now I definitely feel like I'm on a movie set," I say to him. He can’t hear me, of course.
"What?" he shouts. I shake my head. I’ll definitely be telling Sarah about this later, after Emmy is back with me.