Drawn To Darkness (Kings Of Mafia)

I roll my shoulders to ease the tension in them while my fingers keep flying over the keyboard.

“You’ve been at it for hours,” Renzo mutters behind me. “Take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

No, I’m not.

It feels as if everything we’ve done to this point is a waste of time.

Letting out a frustrated growl, I slam my fist down on the fucking keyboard. Standing up, I grab the two cell phones and stalk out of the office before I smash my system to pieces.

“Hey,” Renzo says as he comes after me. “You’re doing everything you can.”

I don’t reply as I take the stairs down to where the rest of the men are crowding my apartment.

Damiano’s sitting on one of the couches, busy on a call while side-eyeing Bella, who’s lying beside him.

“I don’t give a shit…no deal,” he growls into the line.

I pick up Bella and shove her into Renzo’s arms as I mutter, “I don’t trust Damiano with my baby.”

My comment draws a chuckle from some of the men, but then Damiano grumbles, “I already have your family. If you hurry, you can watch me kill them.”

He ends the call, then rises to his full height, his dark eyes locking with mine. “Find anything?”

I shake my head. “Nothing we can use. You?”

“Just spoke to Miguel. He claims his men didn’t take your woman, and another group that’s operating in Brownsville is responsible.”

His eyes flick to Bella, and I’m surprised when he pets her head.

Letting out a sigh, he carries on talking. “It doesn’t matter which group took her. By now, they could’ve sold her to get the money owed to them. It’s either that or she’ll be forced to work the debt off.”

My frustration and worry spike, and I snap, “We know that already.”

Suddenly the alarm on my phone sounds, and I quickly look at the screen. Seeing there’s been a match for Eden on a camera, I turn around and run back up the stairs. Bursting into my office, I grab a seat and enter the alert. It’s a clear image of Eden crossing a road.

Christ.

My woman’s alive.

Everything inside me stills as I stare at her terrified face.

It registers that she’s in underwear and barefoot.

In the fucking cold.

I suck in a harsh breath as I keep staring at her, then all at once, every destructive emotion I’ve felt since she was taken floods back.

A roar is torn from my chest as I shoot to my feet. Grabbing the chair, I throw the fucking thing against the wall.

The other men come rushing one by one into the office.

Renzo grabs my shoulder as I turn back to my system, and when my eyes land on the photo of Eden again, out in the fucking freezing cold wearing only underwear, the need to destroy everything overwhelms me.

Franco darts in front of me before I can get to the system.

“Breaking shit isn’t going to help,” he says. “Deep breaths.”

“You have proof she’s alive,” Renzo adds.

“Dario,” Damiano’s voice lashes through the air.

I suck in heavy breaths as the rage calms enough for me to think straight.

“Track that photo,” Damiano orders.

Franco gives me a cautious look as he moves out of my way.

“I’m okay,” I manage to breathe before I step closer to the desk and bring up a map of the area where the photo was taken.

Queens come up, and then it zeroes in on a crossing in Jamaica.

“She’s only thirty minutes away,” I mutter in disbelief.

She’s been right here all along and not at fucking sea.

The other four come closer to the monitors, and I bring the map up on the largest screen so we can see it clearly.

“How long has it been since the alert came through?” Damiano asks.

I check and mutter, “Ten minutes.”

“Carlo,” he calls out.

“Boss?”

“Take men to this location,” he points at the map and photo of Eden, “and search the area around it for that woman.”

“On it, boss.”

I start typing on the keyboard to see if she’s been spotted elsewhere, but when nothing comes up, I grab my phone, shove it in my pocket, and hurry out of the office.

“Let the men look, Dario,” Damiano calls out.

“No. I need to be out there,” I mutter.

“Christ.” I hear him curse.

When I get to the elevator, I slam the button and glance at my friends following after me.

“You can stay. I’ll do this on my own,” I say before I slam the button again.

“We’re coming,” Renzo replies.

The doors finally fucking open, and we pile inside. On the ride down, it’s hard to stand still, and when we reach the basement, I shoot out and jog to my SUV.

“I’ll ride with him,” Renzo calls out.

“Let us know if you get any new information,” Damiano orders.

Renzo climbs into the passenger seat while I slide behind the steering wheel. As I steer the SUV out of the parking area, I already start to feel a bit better, knowing I’m on my way to where Eden was last seen.

There’s a good chance she’s still in the area. She might be at a police station already.

“Call one of your contacts in law enforcement and have them check police stations in Queens,” I tell Renzo.

“Good idea. She’d probably go there for help.”

Checking the rearview mirror, I see the other SUVs behind me.

I’m actually surprised Damiano’s coming along for the ride. Sure, he’s always there to back us in a gunfight, but not when it comes to searching for someone.

When Renzo ends the call he made, I ask, “What do you think is up with Damiano?”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually, he considers things like this a waste of his time,” I explain. “But he’s been with us since Eden was taken.”

Renzo shoots a frown my way. “Because you need him.”

When I give my friend a confused look, he explains, “We’re all here because every single time shit went down in our lives, you were front and center to help us. You’re the fucking heart of the Cosa Nostra, brother.”

Christ.

Feeling overwhelmed by what Renzo just said, I keep my eyes focused on the road.

“You can cry,” he teases me. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Fuck off,” I mutter, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly.

Renzo’s phone starts ringing, and while he’s on the call, I take a few deep breaths and focus on the mission.

He ends the call, then mutters, “My contact says there was a report of a woman being forcefully shoved into a van. It sounds like it could be Eden. The witness said the van’s brown.”

“Fuck,” I growl, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. “If they got her again…”

“Just drive, Dario. At least we know to be on the check out for a brown van.”

“Let the other’s know about the van,” I mutter.

“On it.”

Renzo quickly sends out a group text, and when we reach the neighborhood in Queens where Eden was spotted, we start driving up and down streets.

On every other street, we drive by a vehicle with mafia soldiers. With such an overwhelming presence in the neighborhood, I start to have hope that one of us will spot the brown van.

Just as I turn by a crossing, Renzo’s phone rings.

“It’s Franco,” he says before putting the call on speakerphone.

“What’s up?” Renzo mutters.

“I’ve just driven past a house with a brown van. I’m parked up the street. Want me to wait or go in?”

“Send the address,” I say. “Wait for us to get there.”

“Okay.”

The call ends, and the address comes through a few seconds later. Making a U-turn, I floor the gas.

Please let her be in that house.

I can’t take any more of this and just want Eden back.