Lorenzo: Chapter 57

I’m almost at the hotel when a call comes through from my sister.

“Hey, Joey.”

“Are you driving?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” she mutters, almost inaudibly.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What is it?”

She clears her throat before answering. “Mia’s been arrested.”

She must be mistaken. My Mia? Arrested? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tommy just called Max. Mia was arrested ten minutes ago. The cop had a badge. He was legit.”

Every breath of air feels like it’s being sucked from my lungs. “She was arrested?”

Blood thunders through my veins. “What the fuck for? Who was this cop?”

“I don’t know, Loz. Tommy said he was an asshole. He took her out in cuffs and the hotel manager saw him put her in a car.”

“And nobody fucking stopped him?” I shout.

“What could they do? The guy was a cop.”

“Fuck, Joey!”

“I know. Max is already on the phone to Dante and Kat. We’ll find out where she is. I’ll call Drake. He’ll—”

“Fuck Drake. I want Nathan James on the next fucking plane to Chicago.”

“Okay. I’ll get Max to call him.”

“I’ll call him myself.” He’s not going to jump on a plane at the drop of a hat for just anyone, but he will for me.

“Okay. Head back to the mansion, and Max and I will meet you there.”

“I need to know where she is,” I growl, anger surging through every cell in my body.

“I know, Loz, but until we find out what precinct she was taken to, there’s nothing we can do. We need to work on this together. This is the cops we’re talking about. We can’t solve this our usual way.”

“Fuck!” I slam my hands against the wheel. I never should have let her leave the fucking house.

“I’ll see you soon, Loz. We’ll fix this, okay?” Joey says reassuringly. “We’ll get our girl back.”

I can’t even think about how scared she must be. How I should have been with her. Then at least she’d have a hot-shit lawyer sitting by her side right now.

I bark an order to my car’s hands-free system to dial Nathan James. It takes him seven fucking rings to answer me.

“Lorenzo?”

“I need you in Chicago. Now.”

“What’s going on?”

“My girlfriend …” That word sounds so fucking wrong—it’s not enough for what she is to me. I clear my throat. “She’s been arrested.”

“For?”

“Not sure. Probably for the murder of a cop.”

“Fuck, Lorenzo. Where’s Drake?”

“I don’t want your fucking brother, Nate. I want you.”

He sighs, and I can almost hear the cogs ticking in his brain. “The jet’s at JFK. Give me a few hours and I’ll be there. But have Drake filled in by the time I get there. He can do what needs to be done until then.”

“I’ll call him now,” I say.

“See you in a few hours.”