The days began to blur, and before I knew it, weeks and months passed. I was five months into my pregnancy, and I was getting used to Luca being gone.
When I’d been three months pregnant, I attempted to see my husband in Chicago. I tried to surprise him at the Moretti Shipping Line offices, only to find out that he was in Vegas and wouldn’t be expected until the next day. I ended up an emotional wreck and couldn’t stop crying all the way back to Tralestelle.
I didn’t even merit a phone call from him, telling me where he would be traveling.
Even Papà gave Mamma that courtesy.
I became dizzy the next day and wasn’t feeling too good. Martha lectured me that stress wasn’t good for the baby. At least she appeared to be pissed at Luca, and Tony didn’t make any excuses for my husband either.
When I wasn’t feeling any better that afternoon, I panicked and made an appointment with Dr. Kingsley. Since it was an emergency and she didn’t have an open appointment, she had to check me over after hours and declared I was fine, maybe dehydrated. She was also of the opinion that I should not stress over Luca and think of the baby. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t hear from Luca and was relieved that no one ratted me out regarding my brief excursion.
Luca returned for my eighteenth-week checkup where we would find out the gender. Dr. Kingsley didn’t mention the incident. When she declared we were having a boy, Luca kissed my forehead and congratulated me, then he dropped me off at Tralestelle and returned to Chicago.
It appeared he was no longer interested in our baby either.
Even his daily phone calls had dwindled to twice a week.
I touched my stomach that was only now beginning to show a bump. I’d shifted to wearing maternity pants. There was no use trying to look sexy because Luca hadn’t touched me in two months. I was a new wife and about to become a mother, but I’d lost my shine and appeal to my husband. I saw it in the way he barely looked at me and offered me half-hearted compliments. My heart could tell the difference.
I questioned whether I’d imagined the love in his eyes during our first prenatal checkup. I clung to that hope, but after months of being frozen out, even I had my limits.
The sound of an approaching storm broke my reverie. I was in my usual position on the couch, with Mrs. B keeping me company. I guessed she sensed the turbulent weather. The cursor on the laptop blinked at the end of Doriana’s last message.
“We’re a go. Auction is still at 11 p.m. EST.”
I pushed my emotional turmoil away and focused on the job. Seven lives were at stake. Four girls who were barely sixteen. One eighteen-year-old. And two boys who were fourteen.
My stomach threatened to throw up my dinner. I had the identities of the buyers. Two Saudi princes. The other three were oligarchs. Five major buyers. The others were lesser players and didn’t get first choice.
It was eight p.m. Chicago time. Which meant I had two more hours to go. I favored denial-of-service attacks, which slowed down the servers. No payment meant the girls and boys would not be sold and Doriana had another group involved that rescued them.
Usually, after one of our jobs, I’d see confirmation from the news where the auction was taking place that a human trafficking ring had been busted.
However, I was going to use the method I’d employed when I stole Santino’s money. I was diverting their payments by exploiting a weakness in their network security software. My program was already in place. I already had all the identifying information the assholes were going to use.
Sometimes, I wondered if I bit off more than I could chew. I was going up against powerful criminal organizations. Granted, my husband was one scary mofo in the game, but he didn’t know he was protecting me against all that.
The sound of rain splattered on the roof, and lightning streaked across the night sky.
I had hoped I could have shared this part of me with Luca by now, but he made it extremely difficult given his own preoccupation with the Galluzo wasn’t going so well.
From what I heard from Carmine, Papà was getting impatient, but I didn’t blame my husband if he refused to give an inch to doing business with the Russians when it came to human trafficking. That was something we had in common. He had his battles. I had mine.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”
It was Martha. “You’re sleeping up here again?”
I nodded. I had stopped sleeping in Luca’s room since we found out we were having a boy. It had become unbearable and lonely, bringing me nothing but despair and a rip in the heart each time I woke up to Luca’s unslept side of the bed.
“I can ask Yvonne to make up another room for you.”
“Don’t worry. I have plans for a baby room. I’ll probably move in there when the baby is born.”
“That’s not healthy.”
I laughed bitterly. “Did you even expect Luca to have a healthy relationship ever?”
Martha’s eyes lowered. “I had hoped.”
“Don’t,” I choked. “Not tonight, please? I have a lot on my mind.”
The older woman smiled sadly. “There are spotty storms all over. A particularly strong patch is rolling in.”
“I love storms.” And rain. Especially Paris in the rain.
Martha said no more and closed the door. I blew out a breath and flipped to my network sniffer that I’d already connected to the Russians’ auction site on the Dark Web, deciphering the packets that were coming through.
A few minutes later, the lights blinked.
Shit.
Mrs. B jumped down from her comfortable position on the couch and headed to the door.
“Great, you’re abandoning me now too?”
“Meow.”
“Fine.” I let the cat out.
I walked back to the couch and picked up the DEC-phone and the signal was atrocious…
A loud blast sounded in the distance that didn’t sound like thunder.
The power went out.
No. No. No.
It should shift automatically to the generator.
But even then what if the internet was down?
My DEC’s hotspot was not working.
I waited.
And waited.
Dammit. It was time for my backup plan.
After checking with Tony, who said the generator was still having problems, I checked the clock. I had an hour and a half before the auction went live. I needed enough time to set up.
The stairwell that led to the attic was far away from the staff quarters. I had a go-bag ready, and all I needed was my laptop and the DEC. Earlier, I parked one of the older vehicles, a Ford Explorer, outside. I sure as hell was thankful no one had moved it into the garage. I threw on a raincoat, bleeped the locks, and made a run for the SUV. The other problem was the gates. I had to open one side manually and get the SUV through and then get out again and close it.
By the time I was on my way to Red Oak, my sneakers were squishing uncomfortably. I made a mental note to get myself rubber boots. At least my body and head were dry.
I gritted my teeth as the Explorer fought against the downpour. My windshield wipers flapped so fast, I thought they were going to fly off. I spotted a glimmer of light up ahead. It felt as though I was about to break through a tunnel.
The rain abated like magic, and I was clear. When I was five minutes from the college town, I remembered the smartphone. I didn’t remember putting it in my go-bag. I probably would have left it anyway because I knew Tony could track me with it. That was why I selected an old Explorer from the fleet because I was hoping it was too old to have tracking on it. The last thing I needed was the stress of someone following me. I would face the firing squad later. I had an excuse, albeit a lame one.
It was Friday night, and the streets were busy with college kids a week before their break into summer vacation. When I reached the twenty-four-hour coffee shop I had scoped out months ago, I had forty-five minutes to set up. It wasn’t too crowded, but crowded enough I would be inconspicuous. I found a cozy corner, threw my bag on it, hauled out my laptop, and fired it up. Next, I put the DEC on the stand and was relieved it was at full bars.
I connected to the hotspot and installed my shields and redirectors and then connected to the Dark Web. I had a script already set up to do all the IP hops to mask my location, and then, boom, I was in the Russians’ auction site.
I reactivated my sniffer and waited.
The crew who would rescue the kids should be in position before I did anything. Then we would let the auction go as planned.
Two hours later, I had a hundred fifty million dollars split in numbered accounts and probably a bunch of pissed-off buyers. The Dark Web exploded with heavy chatter. I backed out and cleaned up my trail.
Shutting off the laptop, I swept all my devices into my go-bag, zipped up, and slung it over my shoulder and left the coffee shop. Times like this, I was glad my stomach wasn’t in the way yet. Depending on what the next job might be, I might have to beg off. This was cutting it too close. If the generators had been working, I wouldn’t be this stressed. Luca would soon be spending a bundle on a new generator.
I was about to leave Red Oak when I remembered my alibi. Chances are, Martha would have already checked on me. The storm had passed, and I had the windows down on the way back to Tralestelle. A cool breeze replaced the mugginess that preceded the thunderstorm. Exhilaration was like wings beneath me. Not only because of the refreshing weather, but the successful mission.
The DEC pinged with a thumbs up from Doriana. One day I would love to meet her. Assuming she was a woman. I gave no indication I was one, too.
By the time I turned on the street of the estate, my stomach clenched. The gate lights were bright and glaring. Beyond it the mansion was also lit up.
I had no way of finding out what was going on because I didn’t have my regular phone. I hurriedly tucked away the DEC.
I punched the button for the automatic gates. If they were waiting for me, that would have alerted them. I hated I put the entire house in an uproar.
When I saw a row of black SUVs in front of the mansion, I was ready to throw up.
No. No. No.
This wasn’t happening.
Luca stormed out of the house and raced down the steps. Dario was behind him, followed by two more men I didn’t recognize.
The furious look on his face almost made me reverse the Explorer and drive away.
I barely cut off the engine when he ripped the door open.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
