could do about it.
He slammed his fist into the wall three times in quick succession. Franco called up an inquiry, which Lorenzo ignored as he tried to calm down.
That’s when he remembered. All the air rushed out of him. The money. The money to pay off Valencia. He’d left it in a duffel bag in the back of the SUV.
No! He felt his knees go weak. He had to sit down on the edge of the bed to keep from falling. The room blurred in a haze of red as his rage sent his blood pressure soaring. His money.
No, not his money. Valencia’s money. As if taking his money wasn’t bad enough, she’d taken the money he owed a man who could crush him—and would.
He’d kill her. If Valencia didn’t kill him first. Lorenzo swore and dropped his head into his hands. He’d never dreamed Jenna would come to the house and try to take Alexandria. She knew what would happen if she did. What the hell was wrong with her? The woman he’d married had been so shy and quiet, so submissive, so malleable.
Even during the divorce, Jenna hadn’t asked for a penny of his money in court, refusing even child support when the judge had tried to insist on it.
So what had happened to that woman? A woman who would never have taken his daughter, let alone his damn car, and worse, his money.
He pushed himself to his feet. He couldn’t call in his stolen car to the cops. Not with the money in the back. Nor could he send the cops after Jenna for taking their daughter. She had sole custody. Not that he’d ever put much store in handling things legally, anyway.
His hands began to shake.
He would get the money back. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Valencia. Unfortunately, Valencia expected the money tonight. It was the reason Franco was waiting downstairs. Franco and his broken nose.
Lorenzo’s mind raced. Valencia wouldn’t believe that the money had just gone missing. Even if Lorenzo told him the truth—that Jenna had taken it along with Alexandria—Valencia wouldn’t cut him any slack.
No, the boss would be furious that Lorenzo had taken Alexandria. Valencia had ordered him not to fight the divorce, not to seek retribution. That bastard had never even shown any sympathy for what Lorenzo had been going through with Jenna. It was one of the reasons Lorenzo had decided to secretly take his daughter, settle up with the organization and leave the country. And there had been a couple of previous disagreements over money with Valencia that had already caused some bad blood between them.
Lorenzo didn’t need this.
Valencia had been willing to let him walk away from the business, from the past. But now Lorenzo might be considered a liability, someone who knew too much and couldn’t be trusted, and therefore was expendable. Valencia might feel forced to kill him.
For an instant Lorenzo thought about just taking off, skipping the country tonight, running for his life. He had a passport in a new name and enough money hidden around the country to live on for some time.
He pushed himself off the bed and hurried down the hall to his bedroom. He reached behind the nightstand on his side of the bed, instantly realizing the weapon he kept hidden there was gone.
His gaze fell on his suit jacket. He grabbed it up, knowing before he searched the pockets that the tickets and passports were gone, as well.
He wrung the garment in his hands, wanting desperately to rip it to shreds. But even before he’d found the passports missing, Lorenzo knew he wasn’t leaving the country.
Valencia would hunt him down like a rabid dog. Plus, Lorenzo knew that just the thought of Jenna getting away with not only his daughter, but also all that money, would drive him insane.
He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. No, he would have to stall for time until he could get the money back. But he would get it back. The money and his daughter. He could always get new plane tickets, new passports.
But he couldn’t leave without making his ex-wife regret ever being born.
“Hey?” Franco called from downstairs. “Hey! Valencia’s waiting for his money. He’s going to be pissed enough when he sees my face.”
Lorenzo nodded to himself in the empty bedroom. Franco had a good point. Valencia wouldn’t be happy on either count.
As he left the room, Lorenzo stopped at one of the heating grates, pried it open