The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 229

In a quiet corner of Belvedere Heights, things were getting ugly.

Three black sedans tore out of the neighborhood and didn’t slow down until they reached a villa on the south side of town.

Jay stepped out of his car, loosened up his wrists, and said in a low voice, “Bring them inside.”

Downstairs in the villa’s basement, Franco was waiting. He wore all black and sat back on a matching sofa. A cap and a face mask rested on the table in front of him. He peeled away the fake scars from the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, barely glancing up at the sound from upstairs.

Jay dragged a guy in and dumped him on the floor, keeping him about ten feet from Franco. The bodyguards quickly tossed in four more, piling them together.

Jay stood back, shooting Franco a look. “Franco, they’re all alive.”

Franco just gave a soft grunt. Once he’d peeled off the last scar, he finally looked down at the men sprawled on the ground. His eyes were cold and unreadable as he leaned into the sofa.

He picked up a jet-black lighter and stood, rolling his shoulders under a thin cashmere sweater. The lamplight caught on how broad he was as he lit a cigarette, snapping the lighter closed with a flick.

“It’s New Year’s Day,” he said quietly. “No blood.”

Right then, Jay grabbed a steel pipe from the wall. A bodyguard closed the door behind them, shutting out the world. No matter how loud the screams got in that room, not a sound escaped.

Ten minutes later, five men were motionless on the floor, not a drop of blood in sight, but completely broken. They looked more like piles of useless flesh than people.

Jay dropped the pipe and took a warm towel from the bodyguard, wiping his hands as he headed upstairs.

Franco was back on the sofa with a drink in his hand.

“Franco, we got what we needed. The payment matched the one Adelaide got in her email. Money came from the border, but we can’t be sure it’s the same person. I checked on the account—looks like it’s a dummy, untraceable.”

The word “border” seemed to linger in the air. Franco’s eyes flashed with something sharp and dangerous. He finished his drink in one go.

“Keep digging,” he said.

The caretaker and bodyguard had both been with Laura since she’d lived overseas. She didn’t care if they overheard. “Whatever you want to say, say it now. I’m on my way back to the James place, so meeting isn’t really possible.”

The man on the other end let out a weird, menacing chuckle. “I bet Franco still doesn’t know you’re the one who shot yourself in the shoulder, does he?”

Laura’s face turned cold in an instant. She hung up and told the bodyguard driving, “Don’t go back to the James house yet.”

They drove into a quiet villa off the main road. The caretaker helped Laura out of the car and into her wheelchair, then pushed her inside.

Once they were through the door, Laura lifted a hand. “Wait for me here.”

She sent her wheelchair forward, rolling toward an open door on the first floor. The room ahead was pitch dark.

As soon as Laura entered, the door slammed shut behind her with a heavy thud. Before she had time to react, she felt a cold hand clamp tight around her neck. Panic shot through her as the grip tightened...