Page 6 of Tracking Safety

“Who are you?” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “How do you know my name?”

He reached past her and pressed the Stop button.

The elevator shuddered to a halt between floors.

Panic raced through her.

She was stuck. Trapped.

With a stranger who knew her name.

What if her name had been added to Roderick’s hit list? What if this man was one of Roderick’s men?

“Why did you⁠—?”

The man reached into his coat and produced a badge.

Cliff Connelly. FBI.

Her breath left her in a rush. The FBI. He wouldn’t hurt her.

But why was he here? Why did he seek her out?

Dread pooled in her stomach, mixed with a good dose of apprehension.

“I need to talk to you,” he stated.

“About what?” The question automatically left her lips. She already knew, on some level, that she didn’t want the answer.

“The Barone family has been under federal investigation for the past eight years.” He said it the way someone might discuss the weather—level and unhurried, which somehow made it worse. “Vito built this operation using an import business as the front. Their real business is extortion. Money laundering.” He paused, letting each word land separately. “Contract killing.”

Contract killing.

Her coffee cup slipped from her hand. She caught it, but the lid popped free. Liquid splashed across her hand and the floor between them.

She didn’t look down. She couldn’t look away from the agent’s face.

The last time she’d seen Vito—Roderick’s father—had been at Thanksgiving. The whole family had sat at a long table, Vito at the head of it. He was silver-haired and the kind of man who commanded a room without raising his voice. He’d been friendly, but Ellie had always kept a certain distance from him. Her gut had quietly been telling her he wasn’t safe, though she’d never wanted to acknowledge that.

Now she knew why.

“Roderick’s father is—” she started.

“The head of a crime syndicate. Has been from the beginning. Roderick handles operations.”

Operations? She pressed her back against the elevator wall. Her mind was running in too many directions at once.

She’d spent three weeks building maybes. Excuses. Explanations.

She’d tried to keep hope alive.

Now, hope was a distant memory.

“We’ve been trying to bring down this family for a long time. We haven’t been able to do it. Not yet.” The agent’s eyes held hers. “You could change that.”

She stared at him, suddenly realizing the implications of what he was saying. “I could change that? I don’t know what you think I⁠—”

“You’re on the inside. You have access to things we don’t. Documents. Conversations. Associates. You could be the person who finally brings the Barones to their knees. Who stops these senseless killings and all the other crimes they’re intertwined with.”