Page 5

If she was frightened at the sight of it, she didn’t show it. But then, why would she when she carried a gun herself? The gun he’d removed from her bag before having it thrown out of the car window should be at the bottom of the bay by now.

“This is how it’s going to work,” he said coldly. “I’m going to uncuff you and escort you to the bathroom. I will give you exactly two minutes to do your business. If you go a second over, I shoot you in the foot.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “You don’t want to come in and watch?”

His mouth curving in distaste, he reached into his front pocket for the key. Crouching behind her, he put the key in the lock, then put the gun to her temple and quietly warned, “Don’t think you’re so valuable to me that I won’t do some serious damage to you before the time limit’s up.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. She knew he wasn’t a man to make a threat he wouldn’t be prepared to carry through.

The cuffs removed, she flexed her wrists and slowly drew her arms forward, rolling her shoulders.

He gripped her bicep. “On your feet.”

When she was steady on her high-heeled boots, he put the muzzle of the gun at the back of her head. “Through the door and turn right.”

The apartment was small, with a tiny kitchen and one bathroom and bedroom. Sparsely furnished, there was nothing she could use as a weapon. He’d made sure of that. The only entry was locked. The only way she could escape was to jump from a window. The fall would break all the bones in her body.

Despite all these precautions, Mattia didn’t trust Elvira an inch, and kept the gun aimed at her head until she reached the bathroom door.

“Two minutes,” he reminded her. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Going to listen to me pee like a pervert?”

Ignoring her mocking jibe, he looked at his watch. “Your two minutes start now.”

She sauntered into the bathroom as if she owned the place and closed the door firmly behind her. There was no lock on it.

Folding his arms across his chest, he propped himself against the small space of wall next to the bathroom door and tipped his head back.

God give him strength, she was singing. It was the song by the peroxide-blonde American his sister and her old best friend, the traitor who was now Tommaso’s wife, used to sing all the time when they were teenagers.

“Just a girl living in captivity,” she sang loudly.

Mattia’s English was rudimentary, but Siena and Gabriella had sung it in his face so many times he knew exactly what the lyrics were about.

Elvira sang it with the same attitude they used to sing it with.

Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, he looked at his watch. “One minute,” he warned.

She sang even louder.

He checked his phone again. Still nothing from Stefano. His two other men had heard nothing from him either.

When Elvira had asked who his Agrippa was, the closest answer would have been Stefano. Mattia had no need for Stefano’s brains, but when it came to blind loyalty and devotion to the Espositos, Stefano was the man. He should be here by now. Should have at least replied to Mattia’s messages.

Stefano’s primary role that night had been to act as an extra pair of hands should anything unforeseen happen during the kidnapping. As it had all gone without a hitch, he should have got onto his motorbike and come straight to this apartment. That he was still to make any form of contact was sitting more and more uneasily in Mattia.

If he didn’t hear from him within the next twenty minutes, he’d have to assume he was compromised and move Elvira to the backup safehouse that only Mattia knew the location of.

He should have taken up Stefano’s suggestion of getting chloroform to use on her.

Water began running from the tap in the bathroom.

Mattia slid the phone into his back pocket and adjusted the hold on his gun.

With exactly ten seconds to go, the singing stopped. “I’m coming out,” she called cheerfully.

The door opened.