Free Instinctual by Amanda Mackey Page A

lift the phone and call, his fingers tracing each number, apprehension had stopped him. Anxiety for her safety. He’d die to protect her.
    He ran a hand through his hair and rose to retreat to his temporary home when a flash rocketed through him. It caught him off guard. He cried out.
    “Kate! Dear God! No!”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    Downing his fourth martini, Carlos casually leaned on the polished teak bar, enjoying the luxurious surrounds.
    Philippe eyed him without saying a word, maybe wondering how absolutely sloshed his business associate was going to get before falling into a drunken stupor. Carlos toasted his glass up in the air to the self-righteous lackey. He had no time for ass lickers. It was clear that Philippe was a yes man trying to worm his way so far up The Lord’s backside it wasn’t funny. Carlos didn’t like him and he trusted him even less. In fact there hadn’t been many people he could trust throughout his life, least of all his parents and anyone in The Organization. Keep your chin up, eyes and ears open, and watch your back. That’s one thing his old man had taught him. Good life lessons, Carlos agreed.
    After way too much awkward silence had passed, Carlos spoke in slurs, now relaxed from the alcohol infusing his brain.
    “So, you got any idea why Adriano wants to do a detour?” There was nothing like shooting from the hip. Don’t beat around the bush. Just come right out and say it.
    The Frenchman smirked. A stupid, annoying, ‘I know something you don’t’ smirk. Silence.
    “’Cause if you know something, I really think you ought to tell me. Us being family and all.” It was worth a shot.
    Philippe let out an arrogant, egotistical laugh. “You think you’ve got this business all figured out, don’t you?”
    Well, well! The man has a voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Asshole was on the tip of his tongue but he held it in.
    “It means that nothing in this industry is black and white. The Lord holds all the cards and keeps them very close to his chest. He’s got a nice little job planned for you. That’s all I can say.”
    Carlos looked away as he squeezed the edge of the bar until his knuckles turned white. It appeared everyone else knew what this next job involved except him.
    Well, fuck them! Fuck them all! Suddenly he wanted to crawl away into his cabin and sleep. A few hours to escape. By morning they’d be in Monaco dumping the shipment and then on their way to God knows where to look at God knows what. A few hours of alcohol-induced slumber was just what he needed.
    Not giving Philippe the same courtesy salute that Adriano had offered, Carlos walked across the lounge and down into the sleeping quarters without so much as a sideways glance but he imagined the conceited Frenchman watching him with that pathetic smirk on his face.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     
    On a small island in Italy’s Archipelago region in the Tyrrhenian Sea and only 1312 feet in diameter, in an abandoned, maximum-security prison, Stavros and The Lord unlocked the cell containing their prisoner, the constant beep from the intensive care monitor the only noise that echoed chillingly in the deserted jail.
    The pristine, isolated cay with cliffs on all sides, accessible only by helicopter was a picturesque slice of heaven. Inside, the deserted jail invoked the polar opposite with a solemn history of crime and punishment.
    The westerly wind chipped away at the isolated building and howled through the empty corridors. Stavros didn’t get unnerved at many things in life but every visit to the rundown penitentiary sent icy chills deeply through him.
    He’d had the call last night that there was a chopper on its way to pick him up and bring him to the island to meet with Carlos and Adriano. It was extremely last minute and he knew nothing of The Lord’s plan.
    A man who looked to be in his early thirties lay unconscious on a gurney wired