Page 51

“Yep.” Fang looks at Isabella expectantly.

After Isabella hands over her phone, we follow Fang to his makeshift workstation—a piece of plywood resting on a couple of sawhorses. As he plugs the device into his laptop, I lean in to watch.

“Bro, stop breathing down my neck,” Fang snaps.

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s clean,” Fang announces.

“Are you sure?” Isabella asks.

We both look at her like she’s lost her mind. Fang is a tech genius. His stupid t-shirts aside, he’s really brilliant. If anyone can find a bug, he can.

“O-kay.” Isabella raises her brows as she takes the phone out of Fang’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Isabella’s father might’ve been the original tenant on some of the cartel’s warehouses,” I tell Fang. “Could be useful in helping us track down the textile place.”

Fang’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Juan’s got everything hidden in shell corporations. But I’ll dig into land leases and deeds under her father’s name.”

“Also, just so you know, Juan sent her a nasty text earlier. He knows she’s with us.”

Fang’s expression darkens. “Watch your back,” he warns. “I’ll wrap up here and head to the garage to keep digging into the cartel’s holdings.”

“Text me if you find anything.”

“Where are you two off to?” Fang asks.

“Sid’s place to get Isabella’s watch back.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.”

***

The bell above the door chimes as we step into Sid’s Antique Emporium, a labyrinth of history and forgotten treasures. The scent of old leather and polished wood envelops us. Isabella’s eyes widen as she gawks at the incredibly vast variety of wares.

“You okay?” I murmur, my hand instinctively finding the small of her back.

She nods, taking in the cluttered shelves and glass cases filled with relics from another time. “It’s just… overwhelming,” she whispers. “There’s so much stuff.”

I get it. This place is a far cry from the sleek, modern world of fancy shopping malls. It’s a reminder of simpler times, of stories etched into every scratched surface and tarnished piece of silver.

Sid appears from behind a towering grandfather clock, his silver hair catching the light from a nearby Tiffany lamp. He strides toward us.

“Ice, my boy,” he greets warmly. “And this must be the young lady with the watch.”

“Isabella,” I introduce her. “Sid’s the best in the business when it comes to timepieces.”

Sid’s eyes light up as he pulls a tray out from behind the counter. Isabella’s watch sits in the center of it. “Ah yes, I was able to track down some fascinating information about the original owner. A Mr. Diego—”

“Vasquez. My grandfather bought it,” Isabella interrupts. “For my grandmother. On their wedding anniversary.”

I watch her carefully, noting the way her fingers trace the outline of the watch. Her connection to the watch isn’t just about a piece of jewelry, it’s about family, about roots. Even though she came from a family of cartel leaders, not everyone was evil. She loved her grandmother very much.

Sid nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. “It’s a Rolex from the 1930s. Quite valuable, actually. One like it sold at auction recently for $7,000.” He pauses, gauging Isabella’s reaction. “If you’re looking to sell, I’d be happy to offer you the same.”

I tense, ready to step in, but Isabella beats me to it.