With his wrists bound by zip ties, Rocco’s curses filled the air.

Piero ripped the sleeve from Rocco’s shirt revealing a bandage.

Holding Jasmine against me, I lifted my brow in question.

“He’s the man who tried to get to Jasmine,” Piero said. “The one I shot in New York.”

“Rocco?” How had he been in New York and gotten back to Kansas City before Jasmine? I knew the answer. Rocco had flown while Piero and Jasmine ...