“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked, shrugging off my suit jacket, my fingers twitching as adrenaline pumped through my veins.
“One hundred percent,” Lorenzo assured me, his voice steady as he loaded his gun with practiced efficiency.
His men had tracked down this grimy, run-down warehouse, and once they had, Lorenzo insisted on coming along. He wanted to make it clear to his men that this—kidnapping, trafficking, whatever the hell this was—would not be tolerated. I admired that about him. He was trying to change the family business, trying to turn it into something different, something less destructive. And that took guts.
“How about manpower?” I asked, my voice sharp. “How many does he have with him?”
Lorenzo exhaled through his nose, adjusting the strap of his bulletproof vest
