Page 50 of Lord of the Underworld

"Everything's going just the way it should," I say, pulling out leggings and hoodies for them. "We've got sixty seconds." Gulia and Chiara rip the robes off and haul the leggings on like they're ditching Bible school and heading to a rave.

Voice muffled as she pulls on the hoodie, Luciana asks, "What about Gio?"

"I'll be notified the instant they're in the car and heading down North Lake Shore Drive," I assure her. "Let's focus on getting you three out of here."

My heart nearly stops when another attendant passes us in the hallway. "Do they have an appointment?" she sneers, looking at the three of them, huddled in cheap sweatshirts.

"They're from the cleaning people," I say. "I need to show them where all the stuff is."

"Oh," she says, dismissing them and heading back toward the front of the spa.

Oksana: The coast is still clear?

Montel: You're golden. Get out of there.

This part is always the worst, when we're out in the open, the getaway vehicle is right there, so close, but anything could happen. My nerves stretch taut and one of the girls, Guila, I think, is whimpering very softly.

"You're doing great," I murmur. "Keep walking."

Lana edges the van around a double-parked delivery truck and pulls up. The door slides open and I get everyone inside in seconds. As we pull away from the spa, I get a text from Yvette.

Yvette: Simple pickup. On our way.

I heave a deep sigh and tell Luciana. She and the girls huddle together, hugging each other and crying softly.

Changing back into my jeans, I send a silent 'thank you' out into the Universe.

The rain picks up again and the drive to the meeting place is miserable. Lana curses as the tires slip on the wet road. "Fucking Chicago weather," she snarls. "The bitch will never cooperate."

I stifle a laugh.

We finally pull up to the spot where we'll give Luciana and the girls into the safekeeping of Jim and Jane Morgan. It's a field surrounded by trees close to the Kennedy Expressway. Jane told me once that their ancestors were Quakers and an active part of the Underground Railroad back in the 1830's. "It's a perfect fit for us," Jane had said, smiling serenely. This is their eleventh mission.

The muddy parking area by the field is empty. Checking my watch, I force myself to breathe slowly. "We're early," I say. "Good driving, Lana."

Marie squints. "I just saw their headlights."

"Okay, everyone out," I say with a smile at the girls. "Let's make this fast, all right?"

The rain has decided to be as spiteful as possible, hammering down as I help Luciana out of the van. She's shaking, but trying to hide it from her daughters. "Thank you," she whispers, her hoodie already soaked. "I don't know what to say."

"Say that you and the girls will live a long, happy life." I squeeze her cold hands.

"About that…" I hear the distinctive sound of a safety clicking off. It's a sound you never forget. Lana's pointing her gun at us. One by one, the others lift theirs, too.

Chapter Twenty-Two

In which, “Sorry, it’s not personal, it’s just business” is complete bullshit. It’s very personal.

Oksana…

"Sorry, it's not personal, it's just business."

Lana says it with a casual smile, a steady grip on the gun aimed at me.

"Personal?" I hiss. "The Don is going to sell his fourteen and fifteen-year-old daughters into child marriages! Is the extra cut he's offering you worth it? Look at them!" I put my arm around a sobbing Gulia, the rain's flattening her little updo from the salon, makeup dripping off her face. She looks even younger than fourteen. "Lana, you can't do this! I'll-" I grit my teeth in fury; this move is a weak one. "I'll pay you double whatever that pig paid you to betray us."

"Ah, ah," she tutted. "Going back on an agreement is bad business."