Ouch.
Silence fell again.
“Are you really surprised?” Jordan said. “You can’t rule with fear.”
“I can, but no, I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?” Jordan said, opening his eyes and looking at the other man.
Damiano’s gaze was hooded. Unreadable. “Doesn’t matter.”
Jordan frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Could their kidnapper be the same person who had tried to kidnap Nate? “You aren’t the one who targeted me and Raffaele.”
“Of course not,” Damiano said, scoffing. “I know Raffaele isn’t interested in taking his father’s place. If he were, he and Marco wouldn’t have gone to great pains to pretend that Marco disowned him and cut off all ties to him. Raffaele isn’t even in Marco’s will.”
Huh.
Jordan searched Damiano’s face, but he seemed honest enough. And he didn’t think Damiano would bother lying when they both were kidnapped and their prospects of escaping looked rather bleak.
“Why do you think we’re still alive?” he said, focusing his eyes on Damiano’s face and trying to trick his mind into believing that they weren’t in a small box deep underground. For the first time, he was grateful for the gravitational black hole Damiano was: it was easy to keep his eyes on him and forget about the walls around them. Damiano’s angular, sharp face looked even more predatory and interesting to watch in the dim yellow light: like something from an old painting.
Seemingly deep in thought, Damiano yanked at his bow tie and threw it aside. “It’s not ransom they’re after,” he said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “No one will pay ransom for me.”
The saddest part was how matter-of-fact Damiano was about it.
“They probably do intend to make Raffaele pay ransom for you,” Damiano said after a moment. “But me…” He smiled wryly, rubbing at his stubbled jaw. “I foresee some old-fashioned torture in my near future. If they wanted me dead, I’d already be dead.”
Jordan shivered. “Do you have a plan?”
Damiano didn’t reply. He lifted his eyes to the hatch. “Someone’s coming.”
He was right.
The hatch opened and a ladder was thrown down. A male voice barked something in Italian.
“What’s he saying?” Jordan said.
“They want me to come up.” Damiano got to his feet.
“Wait,” Jordan said, grabbing his wrist as his heart started to pound. “You’re going?”
Damiano looked at his hand oddly, the yellow light throwing shadows across his face. “Of course. I can hardly refuse. They’ll just drag me out if I don’t obey them.” His lips twisted. “If they don’t kill me, I should be back within a few hours. Let go, bello.”
Jordan swallowed, his fingers refusing to cooperate. Don’t go, he wanted to blurt out like a child being afraid of staying alone in the dark.
Something shifted in Damiano’s expression as he studied Jordan’s face. “Close your eyes and visualize a place that makes you feel calm. Don’t open your eyes until I’m back.” Then he carefully extracted his hand from Jordan’s grip before shrugging out of his tux jacket and throwing it to Jordan. “No point getting blood on it,” he said when Jordan gave him a blank look, before turning away and climbing the ladder.
The hatch closed after him with a thud, and there was the sound of a bolt sliding into place. Locking him up.
Clutching the jacket in his hands, Jordan squeezed his eyes shut.
He breathed, in and out.
He wasn’t in a tiny cellar deep underground.
He was somewhere outside, somewhere nice and a little chilly.
He wasn’t in a tiny, tomb-like cellar.
He was, and no one but his captors knew where he was.
His chest tight and his heart beating so fast he felt dizzy, Jordan clutched the jacket tighter against him, burying his nose in it. It smelled nice. It smelled of another person. A man with piercing eyes and sure hands. That man was a cold-blooded killer, but at this moment, Jordan didn’t give a damn. He wanted him back. He didn’t want to be left alone there, buried alive, forgotten.
Come back.
Chapter 9
Jordan had no idea how much time had passed when he finally heard the hatch open. It could have been just a few hours, but it felt like a small eternity. He’d done his best to lose himself in his thoughts, but he was only partially successful, and by the time the hatch opened, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, each breath a struggle, his lungs refusing to cooperate.
He stared greedily at the hatch as the ladder was thrown inside. Damiano was climbing down, moving with none of his usual grace.
One of the goons peered down and said something in Italian. He yanked the ladder up before Damiano even finished climbing down, forcing Damiano to jump off it. He did, a punched-out noise leaving his lips as he fell to the ground.
“Are you all right?” Jordan said, stumbling forward. His knees still felt too weak and shaky from his latest panic attack, but at least he was physically fine. From the way Damiano gingerly hauled himself into a sitting position, he wasn’t.