Page 6 of His Kidnapped Queen
Diego hesitates.Diego doesn’t hesitate.
I crack open one eye, my forearm over my forehead.
“Whatisit, Diego? You know I don’t like to repeat myself.”
“It’s Matteo,” he says finally, hanging his head, and it all starts to come into focus.
I sit up, running my hands through my hair to get it out of my face.
I hate the way it hangs over my forehead.
I’d get it cut, but it just seems to grow so fast.
Besides, there aren’t many men in this city I can trust with a razorblade.
“What’s he done now?”
Matteo Ricci has been on a bender now for a week, and we haven’t seen him. It isn’t as if bad behavior isn’t common among my men, but this is excessive. I know a lot of my men do drugs, but when it becomes a problem…
Thentheybecome a problem.
“Where is he?”
“I’ve got him in the panic room,” Diego admits, guilt heavy in his voice. “Couldn’t get him to calm down. He pulled a knife on me.”
I blink, genuinely surprised. “He attacked you?”
Diego shrugs, hesitating again. Matteo, Diego, and I have all been friends since we were young.
I was once right along with them, drinking and snorting whatever I could get my hands on. But now my father is old, dying, and I’mcaputo.
I can’t act like that anymore, and I can’t allow my top men to, either.
Matteo is a friend, and that’s the only reason his brains aren’t splattered all over my panic room.
“Caught him boosting a car,” Diego says as I stand up. “Stupid. But then when he pulled the knife…he was just defending himself,Caputo. He’s out of his mind, don’t?—”
I freeze, glaring at Diego. He turns his eyes away.
“I'm not telling you what to do,” Diego says quietly. “But I wish, for your mother’s sake, you’d go easy on him.”
My shoulders stiffen. “Don’t talk about my mother.”
“Luca—”
“Caputo,” I remind him, my eyes narrowing, and Diego looks away again.
This has really torn him up. I can tell by the slumped set of his shoulders, the way he won’t look me in the eyes.
“Leave him in the panic room for a few days. Detox him.”
“Caputo…”
I huff out a breath. “Feed him once a day. He’ll dry out, then we can see where he’s at.”
Diego meets my eyes. “I don’t know if he can handle it.”
It hurts me to do this. It really does, because I can already hear Matteo whining and begging to get out, for just one more fix. It’s not the first time we’ve had to dry him out.
