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“In other words, it’s a fake identity,” Paxton responded to Jordan’s announcement. She settled into a chair in Jared’s study. They were on a Skype call with her team and Cruz who was using the large television monitor fixed against the wall.

“I did some digging. Mia Kunz is in fact none other than Olivia Lopez, born to Colombia-born Gabriela Rojas,” Cruz said as he sent a file to the cloud. “All the intel is in there but I’ll give you the lowdown quickly.”

“Gabriela Rojas? You’re not serious?” Paxton stared at the picture of the woman that appeared on the screen. “You’re talking about theQueen of Cocaine— theBlack Widow,who rose to the top of the infamous Medellin Cartel, right?”

“The one and only.” Cruz tapped on his tablet. “She escaped an abusive mother at a young age— turned to a life of crime and prostitution soon after. She was key in pushing cocaine throughout the States, specifically, New York, Miami and Los Angeles.”

“This puts everything into an entirely different perspective,” Paxton mused. “She is one of the most notoriously known female crime figures in the U.S.”

“Ruthless too,” Jordan interjected. “By the 1970’s, she was in charge of a massive narcotics ring. Some compared her to Pablo Escobar.”

“She was clever and avoided prosecution for years, even though the DEA and ATF had linked her to dozens of murders,” Knox said as she paged through a file.

“Yup. Her reputation was well known.” Kezlin took a sip of water and continued, “She became a multi-billionaire. The nickname, "Godmother," was added to her repertoire of monikers.”

“She was caught if I remember correctly,” Jared said.

“Yeah, her luck finally ran out in 1985. DEA agents caught up with her at her family home in Irvine, California.”

“Hold on. The articles I’ve read about her said she had four sons, three of whom were murdered in Colombia after being deported following prison sentences in the United States.”

“It’s not common knowledge. She never publicly admitted her daughter’s existence,” Jordan said.

“She was caught in 1985 and returned to Colombia after being released in 2004. If Mia, or Olivia rather, told the truth about her age, she must have been conceived while Gabriela was in jail.” Paxton did the math from the information she read in the file Cruz had sent over.

Jordan did a quick search on her iPad. “Yeah, here it is. Her birth record indicates she was born on August 6th, 1992— doesn’t list who the father is.”

“Olivia was given up for adoption the day after her birth. Unfortunately for her, Matias Lopez was associated with the Colombian crime world. His wife couldn’t have children and he was only too happy to take responsibility for her. It seems like he’s taken over where Gabriela Rojas had left off and is now the biggest drug lord in the States.” Cruz tapped his fingers on the desk in thought. “Makes me wonder if the Godmother didn’t personally select him.”

“Or, he might be Olivia’s real father,” Jordan mused. She looked at Paxton and Jared. “It seems Matias Lopez was a regular visitor throughout her prison time.”

“Right.” Cruz took the iPad from her. “It seems Mrs. Rojas had many privileges while in prison— conjugal visits being one of them. Simple. Bribe the guards to give them privacy.”

“Now, the big question is, what exactly do Olivia and Matias Lopez want with Bastian Conti?”

“From the footage we managed to hack into, I’d guess sex trafficking.” Jordan sent another file to the cloud. “I’ve included a link to the footage so you can check yourself. Over the past year, there were monthly parties at the property Bastian Conti owns in Malibu Colony Beach, which isn’t unusual, except for the attendees. Scores of young women, including girls and boys as young as ten to fifteen years of age arrive there on the Friday evening. These parties lasted over the weekend. I assume they are all sex slaves since they only leave the mansion on the Monday morning... under guard and from the look of them, exhausted.”

“Cruz, send me a list of all the attendees at those parties. Check if any of them have links to The Commission’s leaders or their families.” Jared’s expression had turned thunderous. “Get hold of Conti’s financial records. Attendance to a party like that would come at an astronomical cost. Dig as deep as you have to. I want confirmation that there is a link between Conti and Lopez. This has to be stopped.”

“Will do, Commander.”

They ended the Skype call. Paxton looked at Jared. He stood in front of the window, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I know why our neighbor tried her best to seduce me.”

“I’m listening.”

“She weighed me up as a potential customer for their parties.” He looked at her. “Perhaps I should give her what she’s after.”

Chapter Eleven

The thought of Jared exposing himself to danger haunted Paxton throughout the afternoon. He was a Navy SEAL Commander with a CV a mile long. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him but no matter, she couldn’t help being concerned.

He was taking her to dinner at the St. Orres Inn up in Gualala, eight miles north of The Sea Ranch. His instructions were a prelude that tonight was going to be the first step towards their relationship.

“Wear a nice dress, little one... and no panties.”

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