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And if Natalie is behind it…
If Natalie is behind it, then whoever Natalie is, she’s got resources. Enough to disrupt my father’s web of connections that took him decades to build. If she’s working with Ricci, I need to know.
And I need to knownow.
Most of my contacts are tied to the Family in some way. No one I can trust right now. Except…
Grabbing my keys and purse, I take the private elevator straight to the parking garage. As soon as I slide into the leather seat of my Maserati, I take a deep breath, trying to slow my hammering heart, and reach for the glove box.
* * *
The city flies by as I head downtown, trying not to drive too fast. I can’t be pulled over; I don’t have time to waste.
I take a sharp turn, pulling into the parking lot of Sal’s Auto Shop. And there’s Caitlin, leaning into an old Cutlass, tools in hand.
She glances up as I approach, surprise flickering over her freckled face. “Alessa. This is new. What brings you to my grease pit?”
I force an easy smile. “It’s the craziest thing. My car started making this weird clunking noise on my way over here. Think you could take a look? Oh—the registration and all of that boring stuff is in the glove compartment. If you need them.” I keep her eye as I put a little more weight into my tone.
She raises one eyebrow ever so slightly before leaning in and popping the glove box to grab the paperwork inside. As she unfolds the registration forms, her eyes skim the note I’ve tucked among them.
I hold my breath, watching her expression.
But she replaces the registration papers without a word, tucking my keys into her overalls.
“I’ll give it a good look-over and let you know if I come across anything unusual.” She meets my gaze. “Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thanks, Caitlin.”
Message received. She’ll speak to Juno, who will find out what she can.
Caitlin calls me a cab to take me home for now. I’m just climbing into the taxi when I feel it—that prickle on the back of my neck when I’m being watched. I glance across the street at a white sedan, engine idling. The driver slumps down in his seat, but I caught a good glimpse.
It’s him. The man from outside my building, still following me.
Fine. Let him watch me run errands all damn morning.
I’ll still find out who Natalie Moreau is and why she lied to me.
And God help her when I do.
CHAPTER23
NATALIE
Inside a cold warehouse where the FBI stores its cars, surveillance tech, and even some weapons, the atmosphere is buzzing. I stand still in the bathroom, my breath measured, as Evelyn Chang meticulously fits me with a wire. The weight of the mission tonight presses on me, and the cold touch of the wire against my skin makes me flinch. But Chang’s fingers are nimble as she adjusts the nearly-invisible recording device under my blouse, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Sam Wright paces in the adjacent room, and I can hear them reviewing details of the operation with Bell and the rest of the team. I saw maps, blueprints, and grainy surveillance photos spread across the large table last time I was out there. The low hum of tense voices drifts towards me, punctuated by the occasional crackle of a headset.
“All set,” Chang says, stepping back to examine her work. Her voice snaps me from my thoughts. I glance down, seeing no trace of the wire beneath the silky fabric.
Taking a deep breath, I smooth my skirt and walk steadily to join the team. Time for final preparations before the mission begins. As I walk out, each member is absorbed in their respective tasks. Wright avoids my gaze, his body language stiff and distant. The rest of the team buzzes with a mix of excitement and anxiety, their conversations a blend of technical jargon and whispered strategies.
Photos of the Ruby Realm fill the screens on display—the facade, the lavish interiors, even grainy snapshots of the private rooms, which we’ve dug up from previous undercover operations—operations that didn’t go as well as ours have, which is saying something.
Bell stands at the head of the table, focused as always. He turns to me, his commanding presence immediately hushing the room.
“It all comes down to tonight,” he begins, and God, I don’t needmorepressure. “This is our chance to finally get evidence of de Luca’s illegal activities. Miller—you need to capture clear audio and video footage from inside the casino. No mistakes. No excuses.”
