Stealing Valentina: A Kidnapping Dark Romance Novel by Aria Zinn

Author:Aria Zinn [Zinn, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Flamingo Press
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Raith

Nearly watching Valentina do a swan-dive off the roof does things to me. I don’t know what exactly has changed, other than my mind, but I know that the alterations are cataclysmic.

How do I know that?

Because I spend the rest of the night putting together a one-man operation that will let me swoop in and rescue her. I’m not a hero, yet I’m here thinking of all the ways I can unlock her gilded cage and set her free. I can’t even call up Snack, because the less people know I’m about to kidnap the mafia Princess of the Camorra, the safer it is for everyone involved.

Finally, just around three AM, I have the final piece in place. That allows me to catch a couple of hours of sleep, before I leave behind my apartment, and push over the first domino of this hair-brained scheme.

If I make it through this unscathed, I’m going to be surprised. Fuck. More than that. Impressed. Because there are so many details that I didn’t have time to pore over. This is the hastiest, slapped-together scheme I’ve ever considered.

She deserves better. I should have realized that everyone has a tipping point, and not ignored Valentina’s plea for help. I’m disgusted with myself and that I put a vow to a dead woman above what she means to me. I let my fear push away the best thing to ever happen to me, and I will do anything it takes to see the light return to her eyes.

The first step in my plan is replacing the limousine driver, which is too easy. The sun is barely shooting out light beams across the midnight sky sky when I break into his apartment above a Chinese restaurant in Little Italy. The restaurant launders money for the Cosa Nostra, and when the driver isn’t behind the wheel of a luxury car, chauffeuring the mafioso big-wigs around, he’s on a bicycle, delivering drugs out of take-out containers as if they are orders of low mien and chicken fried rice.

The driver doesn’t know what hit him. I may be ruthless, but I’m not into torture. That was my father’s wheelhouse. The driver’s death is swift and instantaneous, given by an icepick to the brain steam. I leave him in bed, where he’ll be found eventually. Probably when his corpse begins to stink, and the restaurant realizes it’s not their friers or refrigerator exuding the smell. I swipe his uniform, even though it won’t fit it has the credentials I need, and I make my way to the di Maio estate right on time.

They don’t even check the identification to make sure I am Jing Ti, the driver that Cesare has on Valentina’s security detail. All it would take is a look at my face, or ask me to remove my mirrored sunglasses, for them to realize that I’m not Asian, and the jig would be up.

Instead, they wave me through after running a hand-held x-ray wand and telescopic mirror along the undercarriage of the limo.

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