Chapter 36
Kara
She was stronger than she knew. Stronger than any civilian I'd ever protected. And I'd make damn sure nobody hurt her. The thought of Lorenzo or any of Scorpions getting within ten feet of her made my jaw clench. They'd be dead before they touched her.
I slipped out of bed without disturbing them and padded to the kitchen. Cam was already up, leaning against the counter with her coffee mug cradled in both hands. She nodded at me, then tilted her head toward the coffee pot.
"Thanks," I murmured, pouring myself a cup.
I checked the security feeds while I drank. Alex was at the monitors, her face illuminated by the blue glow of the screens.
"Nothing overnight," she said without looking up. "The fire made the news. They're reporting that I am presumed dead."
"But?"
Alex finally turned to me, her eyes serious. "Lorenzo isn't stupid. I've got a feeling he knows better."
"Agreed." I drained my coffee. "We need to move."
"The further west we get, the safer we'll be," Alex said.
I nodded. "Let me grab a shower first."
The hot water helped clear my head. By 9:15, I was dressed and ready. Ellie and Sabine were still asleep, but we couldn't wait any longer.
"Sorry about the noise," I said to Alex as I powered up the degausser.
The machine emitted a high-pitched whine that made my teeth hurt. I placed the first hard drive on the plate and activated it. THUNK. The magnetic field destroyed every bit of data from the first safehouse cameras.
I heard stirring from the bedroom but kept working. One by one, I fed the drives into the machine. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
With each one, I felt a small surge of satisfaction. No evidence. No trail. Nothing to lead back to us or to Sabine.
By the time I finished with the last drive, Sabine was standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Time to go?" she asked.
"Time to go," I confirmed.
By the time I finished, everyone was ready.
Ellie had her locs pulled back in a loose bun, dressed like a soccer mom in jeans and a University of Kentucky sweatshirt, sipping coffee while checking her sidearm.
Sabine sat on the edge of the bed, the grey kitten in her lap, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug.
I headed downstairs to the bay where Alex and Cam were loading our gear into the vehicles I'd arranged months ago.
The dark green Ford pickup gleamed under the fluorescent lights, its extended cab and mounted steel toolbox perfect for our needs.
Beside it sat the steel blue Sprinter van I'd chosen specifically for its anonymity—complete with a stick figure family decal on the rear window and a map of the United States on the quarter panel with various southern and midwestern states colored in.
Just another family on a cross-country trip.
"West Virginia plates?" Alex asked, running her hand along the pickup's fender.
I nodded. "Registered to shell companies three states away from here. Untraceable."
Cam worked silently, methodically arranging weapons in hidden compartments I'd built into both vehicles. Her efficiency always impressed me. No wasted movements, no unnecessary words.
"How long have you been planning this?" Alex asked quietly.
"Since you first told me you were thinking about reaching out to Sabine about your family," I admitted. "I always have contingencies."
We finished loading the essentials: medical supplies, emergency cash, burner phones, clothes, food. The cats were last—their carrier slid into the back row of the sprinter van.
When we returned upstairs, Sabine stood by the window, the small gray kitten cradled against her chest. Her fingers stroked its fur rhythmically, but her eyes were distant, worried.
"Where are we going?" she asked, turning to me. The kitten purred against her, oblivious to our tension.
I crossed the room and placed my hand on her shoulder. "Somewhere safe," I promised. "Somewhere they'll never find us."
Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance I wasn't sure I could honestly give. But I held her gaze anyway, steady and certain. Because that's what she needed from me right now.
I checked my watch. Ten minutes to ten. Ellie guided Sabine up the step with one hand at the small of her back and handed her a blanket from the cargo hold.
The grey kitten mewed as Ellie tucked her into the carrier with his mother and siblings.
I climbed into the driver’s seat of the sprinter van.
Ellie slid into the passenger seat beside me, adjusting her holster beneath her sweatshirt.
Cam already occupied the driver's seat of the pickup, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the steering wheel. Alex sat shotgun, her laptop balanced on her knees. She'd barely spoken all morning.
"On to Delta?" Cam called through her open window.
"Yep," I confirmed, checking my mirrors. "We'll make the pit stop at the midpoint and swap drivers. Keep your burner phone on."
The bay door rolled up with a mechanical groan, revealing a slice of daylight that widened until the whole world opened before us. I scanned the street carefully. No suspicious vehicles. No loitering figures. Nothing out of place.
"Clear," I murmured, and pulled onto the street. The sprinter van's engine hummed beneath us as we headed west, toward the next safe house and whatever came after.
The fluorescent lights of the gas station outside Indianapolis buzzed overhead as I scanned the perimeter. I nodded at Cam, who escorted Sabine toward the restrooms with casual precision. My hand never left my concealed weapon.
"Clear so far," Ellie murmured, returning with a plastic bag of wrapped sandwiches. "Got those egg salad ones you like."
I watched Alex fuel up the pickup, her eyes constantly moving, cataloging every vehicle that pulled in. Professional. Focused. We'd trained for this.
"Switch," I said when Sabine returned. "Ellie takes the van. Alex drives point in the pickup."
Twenty minutes later we were back on the interstate, Sabine quiet in the back seat with her sandwich barely touched.
It was dark by the time we reached the Kansas City office park: code name Delta.
Our space was an anonymous front among dozens of identical structures.
Inside, the space mirrored our Point Pleasant setup: monitors, weapons cache, sleeping quarters.
"Just overnight," I told Sabine as she sank onto one of the cots. "We'll be moving again at dawn."
Her eyes met mine, exhausted but trusting. I wouldn't let that trust be misplaced.
Midday the next day, we pulled into a gas station outside Sioux Falls. I volunteered for snack duty while Cam refueled and Ellie escorted Sabine to the restroom around the side of the building. The convenience store was nearly empty, just me and a bored cashier who barely looked up from her phone.
I grabbed protein bars, bottled water, and those terrible gas station sandwiches Ellie inexplicably loved. The news played on a small television mounted behind the register. I froze when Sabine's professional headshot filled the screen.
"The search continues for investigative reporter Sabine Barrett, missing for fourteen days," the anchor said. "Barrett authored the explosive exposé on the Bellante crime family that has sparked national attention."
My fingers tightened around the sandwich packages. The anchor continued, "North Coast Globe's editor-in-chief Mark Robeson was found murdered the same day Barrett disappeared. Police urge anyone with information to contact their hotline immediately."
The broadcast cut to footage of the Bellante estate fire. "Sources claim Domenica Bellante, youngest daughter of the family, is wanted for questioning in what investigators now believe was arson."
The camera panned to Arturo Bellante in an expensive suit, flanked by reporters outside an office building. His lawyer hovered at his elbow like a vulture.
"My sister had nothing to do with the fire. It was a gas leak. An unfortunate loss of our beloved family home," he stated coldly.
"Is it true Domenica is missing?" one reporter called out, as another said, “Are the allegations brought by Sabine Barrett accurate?” and yet another yelled from the back, “Do you know who killed Mark Robeson?”
"Of course not. All of those questions are ridiculous," Arturo snapped, turning away. "No more questions."
I glanced out the window. Alex stood by the van's open door, laughing at something Sabine said. My heart hammered against my ribs. We needed to get the fuck out of here.
I paid quickly, keeping my head down.
Six hours later, we reached our next safehouse on the outskirts of a small North Dakota town. We swapped the plates for Montana ones, ate a silent meal, and crashed for a few hours. By dawn, we were moving again.
The next day, I took the wheel for our final push toward Montana.
Alex sat beside me, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the door handle.
In the rearview mirror, I caught glimpses of Sabine asleep in the back, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and even. The grey kitten was curled on her lap.
"Cam's staying tight on our six," Alex murmured, checking the side mirror.
I nodded, eyes scanning the empty highway stretching before us. We'd fallen into a rhythm over these days on the road. Ellie making sure everyone ate. Cam silently securing perimeters. Alex keeping us on track with our planned route. My team worked like a well-oiled machine.
But what happened when we reached the safehouse? If the DA moved forward with the Bellante case, Sabine would need to testify. The thought of taking her back into their territory sent ice through my veins. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"You're thinking too loud," Alex said quietly.
"How do we know the DA isn't compromised?" I asked. "The Bellantes have their fingers in everything."
Alex glanced back at Sabine. "We don't. But we'll figure it out."