Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
S AINT
The computer forensic expert I’ve been using has come up with another lead. There’s suspicious electronic traffic which could be a hacker trying to get into the casino systems again. It’s coming from a location in an industrial site to the north of the city.
With Christian, Leoluca, and a group of our best soldiers, our convoy of vehicles makes our way to the location. It’s dark and late, but I won’t rest until we’ve checked this place out. Intel says it’s a disused warehouse, but we have to be prepared for anything.
I’m sitting in the front of one of the black vans. The team in the back is quiet, focused, double checking their gear and testing their radios. This is the calm before the storm. With a traitor in our midst, only our most trusted men are in on this. They’re not just our soldiers—they’re the men I’d trust with my life.
The radio crackles. It’s Christian radioing from his van. “In position. I’ll give the signal when we’re ready to move.”
I press the button on my radio. “Copy that. Await your signal.”
The van slows as it pulls into the alley near the warehouse. The building looms ahead, a decaying monument to whatever industry used to thrive here. The windows are boarded up, though a few hang loose and reveal broken panes and rusted metal.
“Showtime,” Christian radios, and I give the nod to the men.
They fling open the rear double doors and leap down, their boots crunching against the gravel.
I hold up my hand and signal for everyone to get into place. The team moves like a well-oiled machine. Each man falls into place. We approach the warehouse quickly and quietly. Our eyes scan the perimeter and every shadow and crevice, looking for signs of movement. There’s nothing. Not yet.
Christian’s team comes in from the other direction. Leoluca’s team is already working on the entrance lock. Forcing it open, the large door creaks as we push it inward, leading us into an oppressive darkness, broken only by the beams of our flashlights cutting through the icy air.
The walls of the warehouse stretch up into an abyss of black. Rows of rusted machines line the floor, some toppled over, long past being of any use, and crates are stacked haphazardly, creating a labyrinth of obstacles.
I raise my hand, signaling the team to fan out. “Team two, hold the rear and secure the perimeter,” I say in a low voice into my radio.
We move with stealth. The only sounds are the faint squeak of rats and the occasional creak of the old building settling.
My flashlight sweeps across the floor. I catch a trail of footprints in the dust. My pulse quickens.
“Someone was here,” I murmur, crouching to examine the prints. “Not long ago.”
Christian peers over my shoulder, his flashlight joining mine. “Could be fresh. They’re leading deeper in.”
We follow the trail, weaving through the warehouse’s maze-like interior. The smell of oil and decaying wood grows stronger, mixing with something metallic—blood, maybe?
We come to an open space near the center of the warehouse. A table sits in the middle, surrounded by chairs, some knocked over. Papers and empty coffee cups litter the surface. It’s a makeshift command post, hastily abandoned.
“They knew we were coming,” Leoluca says, his voice tight. He shines his light on a stack of blueprints rolled out on the table. “Look at this. They’ve got maps of the city. Routes marked, likely their escape plans.”
I clench my jaw. They’ve fucking slipped through our fingers. My flashlight catches a glint of something on the table. A discarded knife, blade still smeared with dried blood.
My light catches a door at the far end of the space, slightly ajar. We stride quickly and quietly, weapons drawn. The door leads to a narrow corridor, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb, and the walls are stained with grime. At the end of the hall, another door hangs open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. “Basement,” Christian grits out.
I nod. “Stay sharp,” I command the men behind me.
The stairs creak under our weight as we descend, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. The basement is even colder than upstairs. And the smell of damp earth fills my lungs. My flashlight illuminates a series of rooms, each one emptier than the last. Whoever was down here is long gone. But they’ve left clues behind.
Discarded woman’s clothing, a hairbrush, chains…
“Basement is empty,” I radio the others.
“They likely had trafficked women held in here,” Leoluca growls as we look around.
By the time we’re back upstairs, one of the men is sifting through the papers on the table. “Anything useful?” I ask.
“Some pointers about their operations. They obviously left in a rush.”
“Yeah. After the fucking traitor told them we were coming,” I snarl. I exhale slowly, the adrenaline draining from my body. The raid is over, and we’re left with nothing but fucking scraps. My mind races. Who tipped them off?
“We’ll get them next time,” Leoluca says in a terse tone.
I nod, but his words feel hollow, and Christian’s face is a mask of barely-restrained fury. Next time? It’s like we’re chasing shadows—shadows who are always one step ahead of us. And the longer it takes to find them, the bigger the threat of the Feds becomes. Christian’s been working his contacts, but it’s only a matter of time before the Imperiosi gets dragged further into this trafficking mess.
The ride back is silent. I keep my eyes on the road ahead, but my mind is back in that warehouse, replaying every step, every corner we checked, every clue we found. There has to be something we missed.
Later, arriving back at the mansion, the weight of the night settles around me like a heavy cloak, and I shake my head. We didn’t catch them tonight. Fine. But this isn’t over. We’ll get the fucking traitor one way or another.
* * *
It’s the following evening, and I’m about to head out to the casino and stop off to tell Emerald. I hear laughter coming from nearby, and I walk into the dining room to find her sitting at the table and playing poker with two of my men, Donato and Fiorino.
Emerald sits at the head of the table, a smirk playing at the corner of her full lips as she rolls a poker chip between her fingers. The men flank her on either side, and their eyes flick to me the moment I step closer. They acknowledge me with a small nod before returning to the game.
I cross my arms. Emerald doesn’t look up right away, but she knows I’m here. She always does.
“You’re supposed to be providing security, not sitting around playing cards,” I snap at the men.
“I asked them to play with me," Emerald clips in a voice tinged with challenge. “And they finished their shift, so the other two guys have taken over.”
I suppress the growl in my throat. They look to be having way too much fun, and I hate the idea of any man being too close to Emerald.
She goes to grab a bottle of water from the fridge in the kitchen, and I stalk after her. “I don’t like you inviting the men inside.”
She sighs. “I was bored, okay? You did tell me to minimize my trips out of the mansion.”
“I’m just looking out for you. Those two are awful cheats when it comes to cards.” Although my men are the absolute best at their jobs, they have no qualms when it comes to how to win at poker. Maybe it’s the made man in them, but following the rules of a game is not something they’re known for. “I just don’t want to see them getting one over on you, Emerald, that’s all.”
“They won’t get one over on me , Valentino. I’m not some brainless bimbo, you know.”
“I’m not saying that you are.” I give a heavy sigh. “Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
But she merely rolls her eyes at me.
* * *
Later that evening, I arrive home to find Emerald curled up on the sofa, watching The Real Housewives of Sunset Beach . “Where are Donato and Fiorino?”
“Gone home. There are only so many times I could lose to them before I got completely bored of the game.”
I nod. “I’m glad you came to your senses. Those two would have bled you dry if you let them.”
“ Excuse me ?”
“I just mean that they’d have no mercy, no matter how much money you’d lost to them.”
“I told you, Saint, I can look after myself. ”
“Yeah, right. How much did you lose?”
“Enough.” Her gaze shifts back to the TV screen. But there’s something in her expression which makes me know it was bad.
“How much, Emerald?”
She shrugs. “Only one hundred grand…”
“What the hell!” I bellow. “I’m gonna kill the fuckers! Whose idea was it to set the buy in so fucking high?”
“If you must know, it was my idea.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I say slowly.
“No,” she replies in an airy tone.
“Why on earth would you do that? And why did it take you so long to cut your losses and bow out of the game?”
“I wasn’t trying to cut my losses , Saint.”
I shake my head. “I don’t get it.” The silence beats between us as her words sink in. A red mist dances before my eyes. “How exactly did you pay them?”
“The black Amex of course,” she trills. “The bank let me use it to pay them. I called the number on the back of the card, and they immediately sent a man over. And as soon as I provided the fingerprint authorization, he produced a cashier’s check for me to give to the guys. It’s amazing the service you get from the bank when your fiancé is stinking rich and such a highly valued customer.”
I’m going to fucking kill Donato and Fiorino. But I might just have to kill Emerald first of all. “But why would you do that, Emerald?”
She shrugs. “I don’t get your problem. I thought you liked gambling and betting .”
And there’s something off in her tone. “What do you mean?”
“Like when you accepted that one-hundred-grand bet from Alberto. You know, when he bet you that you wouldn’t lower your standards to be with someone as big or as slutty as me. I heard you and Christian talking on the phone .”
I briefly close my eyes. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Obviously,” she snaps, but I can hear the pain in her voice as well. “Was this engagement ever about protecting me and my family? Or was it all about winning some bet?”
It actually pains me that she had to hear any of that in the first place—and that she was hurt by it. “Look, I never even accepted that bet. It was just some dumb shit that came out of Alberto’s mouth. And if you must know, I wanted to kill him there and then for daring to insult you. And I will kill him when the time’s right, I promise you that. No one insults my girl like that.”
Emerald mulls over my explanation. “And you’re telling me the truth?”
“Yes. I swear it. And for the record, I don’t agree with a word he said. Your body is utter fucking perfection.”
She thinks over my words before answering. “Okay, I believe you, Saint. And I’ll cancel my dark web order for the cock-shrinking serum.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my sockets. “Christ, Emerald, you didn’t really buy that, did you?”
“Of course, I did. It’s amazing the shit you can find on the dark web.”
And despite myself, I find myself laughing out loud at this woman and the ways she continually manages to amaze me.
Although deep down inside, I find myself wondering if things can ever work between the two of us.
I think maybe we’re too different.
But are we really so dissimilar…?
Because sometimes, I get the feeling that we’re just two lost souls both searching for exactly the same thing.