Page 8 of His Kidnapped Queen
Diego draws in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t complain further. He knows better.
I send a couple of coded texts then drag Matteo out of the panic room. He’s slobbering and crying but I ignore it.
“Get yourself together or they’ll put you with the crazies,” I warn him, hauling him to his feet.
Matteo sniffles. “Thank you,Caputo. You won’t regret this.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I won’t. Because if you don’t get it together this time, Matteo…it’s over. You’re out.”
Matteo’s brown eyes widen but he doesn’t speak, just nodding like a jack-in-the-box.
“I’m taking you in myself,” I say.
Diego stiffens, and I glance over, hoping it shows in my eyes that I’m not going to hurt Matteo.
Not yet. He’s got one more shot.
I drag Matteo to the car, putting him in the back. He goes easily enough, ready to see if he can grab a fix while he’s in lockup.
He doesn’t know I’m going to make it very difficult to get high in jail.
I jerk my head at Diego, who’s followed us out to the garage.
“Come on.”
Diego jerks into action, yanking open the passenger side door and getting inside. I get into the driver’s seat and we drive in silence to the police department.
“Stay in the car,” I bark at Diego. He nods.
I take Matteo into the lobby and he leans against me, almost grateful. He wouldn’t be if he knew I’m going to have eyes on him twenty-four seven.
The receptionist looks up, her eyes widening at the sight of me.
“Rossi? You finally turning yourself in?” she drawls, and I bark out a laugh.
“Nah, not today, Rosie. But my friend here…” I haul Matteo into a standing position and he grunts. “He’s got a warrant. Matteo Ricci.”
“Date of birth?”
“Five, seventeen, nineteen-eighty-six.”
He’s just a year younger than me.
She nods sharply as she types. While I wait, I look through the glass where people are being processed and I’m not terribly surprised to see Mark Hampton.
He’s one of my drivers, at least on occasion, and I recognize him instantly. He catches my eye, looking desperate, but I don’t plan on bailing him out.
If he got caught, that’s on him.
That’s how it goes.
My eyes trail further, to the man and woman processing him. I don’t know either of them by name. Must be rookies.
The man stands tall and lanky, not too much of a threat.
The woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she’s got a pair of hips on her. And a nice, rounded ass. Reminds me of my dream this morning.
I lick my lips, holding up Matteo with one arm and wondering what it’d be like to put my hands on those wide hips.
