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"Move, kid!" a gruff voice growls from behind me, startling me out of my thoughts. It's one of my Dad's men, his face etched with worry and determination. He grabs my arm, pulling me forcefully towards the staircase.
"Wh-where are we going? We can't go. My Mom was attacked. I heard her screaming and that's her blood," I stammer in confusion, trying to point to the pool of blood on the ground, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. My legs feel like they're made of lead.
"Your Dad's orders. We need to get you to safety first, Dario," he replies tersely, not slowing down for a moment.
"Wait, no! I need to find her!" I protest, trying to wrench my arm free from his iron grip. But he's too strong, and all I manage to do is stumble along beside him, tripping over my own feet in my desperation to get away from him.
Chapter 1
The Encounter
Jasmine
The roar of engines fills the night air, a primal beat thrilling my blood. All around me, sleek shapes of metal and shades of eclectic chrome gleam under dim street lights—Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Maseratis.
The crowd buzzes with excitement and illicit thrill. No one knows where the next race will lead, only that there are no rules once the flag drops.
If caught, we risk prison.
I grip the steering wheel of my Mazda RX7, my knuckles white with anticipation. No one here suspects that this car harbors more than just a driver; that, beneath this leather jacket and jeans, is an agent of the Agenzia informazioni e sicurezza interna – Internal Intelligence and Security Agency – here to hunt down one of the most wanted in Italy.
In fact, no one here even knows of my excellent driving skills. Being the only woman in this race, I can feel the gaze of every man upon me, their sniggers, snide comments, and raised eyebrows all directed at me. I ignore them when I can.
As I sit behind the wheel, the leather of the seat clings to my body, gently hugging my curves. My green eyes are focused on the road ahead, but I can't help stealing glances at the other racers beside me.
Some in their cars already, and some making their way through the crowd. After every few seconds, I turn my gaze back to my target—the man I am here for.
"Good luck out there," one of the racers calls out, leaning over my window. His grin is infectious, and I force myself to return the gesture. "You'll need it."
"Thanks," I reply, forcing a smile I don’t mean.
"Remember," he continues, "it's not just about knowing how to drive. It's about skill, too."
He’s reeking of chauvinism, and I grip my steering wheel tightly to prevent myself from punching him. "See you at the finish line," I tell him, without a smile this time.
"Looking forward to it," he replies with a wink before he turns his gaze down towards my cleavage and lets out a whistle. "Maybe we can celebrate together, yeah? I got a hotel room 'round the corner."
I flip him off.
"Bitch," he mutters, before walking away.
Asshole, I think to myself, before shaking my head and taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I can't allow any distractions, not even those packaged in the form of egoistic men who might need a lesson or two.
I need to focus on the task at hand: to observe and learn all I can about Dario Marchetti.
He's the reason I'm here, after all. My mission: win this underground car race—for my personal satisfaction—and, more importantly, observe him closely—on behalf of the agency.
Dario is the enigmatic second-in-command of the Marchetti mafia family, first in line to take up power when his father Tony Marchetti hands over the reins.
I must uncover as much information about his true nature, his alliances, and his potential involvement in his father's criminal activities.
While every mafia family in Italy is involved in some or other illegal activity, certain crimes go beyond the boundaries of what law enforcement can ignore.
Recently, we've come across an international racket of children going missing from various Eastern European, Asian and European nations. Most were from at-risk families, and from low-income groups.
A few of these kids showed up in horrible situations, some working in bonded labor in the Middle East. To pay off the debts of family members, these children are pledged to work either for a money lender or for a landlord to repay a debt or loan.
Others were found peddling drugs or being forced to beg on the streets. Our investigation led us to Tony, "The Don" Marchetti.
