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“No! I know what you meant,” she growls, whirling around to face me. Her cheeks are flushed with anger, but her eyes are watery, ready to spill at any moment. “Everyone, and I meaneveryone, thinks I’m incapable of handling anything. But it’s my fault. I keep tiptoeing around everyone. I’ll fucking show all of you.
She storms down the hallway, calling the elevator repeatedly. I throw my hands up in frustration and run after her, grabbing her elbow just as she steps into the elevator.
“Lenny, stop,” I say softly, biting back the urge to explode on her or make a joke out of this. “Please, I’m just worried for your safety…”
“Worry about your own damn safety, Enzo,” she growls, shrugging out of my grasp and closing the doors. I stand in front of the elevator for far too long, staring dumbly at the numbers going down.
That’s not how I wanted it to go at all.
I spend the next few days practically locked in my office, my eyes glued to my laptop. Valentina refuses to speak to me, but I call every day, hoping she’ll change her mind.
Why can’t she just listen to me for once in her life?
My phone rings and I snatch it up, convinced it’s her. A series of beeps and clicks come through the speaker, and my first instinct is to hurl my phone across the room, but an idea strikes me.
I put the phone on speaker and place it gently on my desk so as not to disconnect the call. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I hack into every cell tower in the city.
Please don’t disconnect, please don’t disconnect—not until I find you.
I watch the screen impatiently as it runs through every connection and signal in the city. Finally, the screen flashes with the located connection, and I have an address.
457 West Street, I found you.
I disconnect the call and burst into the main office. I need to call for backup, but I don’t want to tip these fuckers off if they’ve tapped my phone.
When I see a couple of my associates lounging, I gather the group and get them up to speed. We pile into a couple of unmarked cars we keep in our garage and head to the address.
My head buzzes with excitement. My body is so jittery I nearly steer us off the road, much to the protests of my guys in the backseat, but we make it to the location in one piece.
It’s a shitty low-rise apartment building on the east side of town—all crumbling brick, bars on the windows, and burned-out bulbs. I send a small team to case the place and position themselves at each exit.
“I don’t know which unit it is exactly,” I whisper breathlessly. “But it looks like there are only two occupied at the moment.”
I scroll through the information I’ve pulled up on my phone after I hacked the building owner’s emails.
“Basement unit and one on the second floor,” I continue. “You two take the second floor, Marco and I take the basement.”
We slink out of the car in the cover of darkness and make our way into the building. Marco, one of the younger cousins, tails me, watching my back as we head to the basement unit.
This could be nothing, or it could finally be the end of this annoying little problem.
I hold my breath and knock, making sure to block the peephole with my finger. Faint shuffling sounds come from the other side of the door, but it doesn’t open. Marco meets my eyes, and I nod. Without hesitation, he aims and shoots the lock off.
Everything happens in hyper speed. The door flies open and a figure emerges, moving at full speed toward me.
He tackles me to the ground, knocking the air out of my lungs, and I helplessly watch my gun slip away, sliding across thedirty tile floor. The cold tip of a blade presses against my temple as I attempt to throw the guy off me.
Luckily, he’s not expecting two of us. Marco emerges from the shadows and kicks him off me, shooting him expertly in the shoulder—enough to disarm, but not enough to kill.
I catch my breath as the guy rolls around the floor, moaning and clutching his shoulder.
Heavy footsteps pound down the stairs, and I’m surrounded by my guys, guns drawn.
“He’s disarmed,” I say, finally getting my breath under control. “Throw him in the trunk.”
While they deal with the fucker who tackled me, I slip into the apartment.Just as I thought. He’s the hacker.
I take in the rows and rows of screens and laptops propped on a large meeting desk. The apartment is bare except for surveillance and tech equipment.