Prologue
Isabella
One Year Ago
"Are you sure you have to go?" Aria asks with a fake pouty face, and a little one on her hip. She has so smoothly transitioned into the role of mother; I can't even imagine her not being one at this point. It doesn't hurt that Salvatore is both dreamy and a good man—something rare in this life we live. Her father and any man he would have chosen certainly didn’t fit the bill. But now Marcel is in charge of the Funar Clan, so there is hope for any daughters that these two have.
"Yes, duty calls, and so does my father." I roll my eyes as I speak which makes her scoff.
"Is he ever going to set you up with a nice Romanian man?" My best friend asks.
My cheeks flush at the question because there is only one Romanian man I want to touch me, and I get the feeling that is one deal my father will never score no matter how loyal he is to the Funars.
"Is there such a thing as a nice Romanian man?" It's her turn to roll her eyes. "Besides, you weren’t always in a hurry to get settled down, maybe I'm not either." I wink at her and wave as I walk out the door. It's gotten dark and a little chilly, so I pull my jacket tighter around me. It's the one thing I hate about visiting my best friend; the weather here. Seattle is always a little on the cold side and rainy much of the time. I love the sun too much to leave California behind for any place like this permanently.
I look around and don’t see my Uber and stomp my foot in frustration. It was supposed to be here already according to the app. We didn’t all have fancy ways of getting around. Just because my father was paid to do the books by the Funars didn’t mean we had armored limos and SUVs following us around like they did. We had to pay Ubers to take us to the airport, though we easily afford first class.
A black car pulls up really slow against the curb. "Finally!" I hiss under my breath, yanking the car door open. I slide in without another thought, only to hear the locks instantly click. Looking up, the car has three men in suits, the windows a little too tinted for my taste. "This isn’t an Uber, is it?" I ask erroneously.
The man in the backseat with me grabs my hands and snaps on a pair of handcuffs. "No, this is nothing like an Uber. We sent him home."
I try not to panic. These guys look official, not really like the type to kidnap me and use me for ransom or something like that. I don’t think these men are mafia, so they must be cops or worse— government agents. I don’t know what they want with me, but I can't say my father isn’t involved in some shady shit. It’s part of working in this business, and I often help him. What has he gotten me into now?
The car accelerates, and we are going pretty fast, like maybe we are on the highway. I don’t know where they’re taking me, and I’m unsure I want to find out. "Can one of you tell me what’s going on here?" I ask, looking back and forth between the three men. The driver is balding and stoic, just driving and nothing else. The one in the passenger seat has dark, long hair pulled back in a pony tail. He almost looks like John Travolta inPulp Fiction.
The one next to me is young, though when he smiles I can see he is missing a tooth. I wonder if that happened on the job. "To be blunt, Miss Zugra, we are taking you for interrogation about an incident we need to clear up. You can either cooperate and find yourself back at home in no time, or we have the means to make you disappear or put you away for a long time."
A shiver goes down my spine at his harsh words, and I’m like putty. I’ve been around the mafia all my life, but I’m not trained like they are to resist these things and go through torture. I don’t want to throw my father under the bus, but I won’t be locked away in some federal prison and beaten for the rest of my life. I will have to give them whatever it is they want.
"Just tell me what you want to know. I have no intention on disappearing or even going wherever it is you would have me taken. I just want to go home."
The man in the back with me looks up and locks eyes in the rearview mirror with baldy. I see a slight nod and hope it’s a good sign. I seize up as toothless reaches for something but then see it is only a remote, and with the click of a button, a small screen protrudes from the roof. There’s more to this car than meets the eye.
"Is this you, Miss Zugra?" he asks, and I look at it to see it is a picture of me at the shipyard about three weeks ago. I remember my father sending me there to sign off on something, which I've done a couple of times before with him there. This was the first time alone.
"Yes, my father sent me there to sign for a shipment. Just typical cargo," I tell them, confused.
"Miss Zugra, ignorance isn’t going to save you here, even if it's not an act. We know what was on that ship and where it was headed, thanks to the fact that it sank before it ever made it to its final docking. It doesn’t matter who sent you to do it, you are an adult and did it of your own free will. This could all be pinned on your shoulders."
I know better than to talk back to them, but I don’t even get what the issue is. What would my father have me sign for that would get me in so much trouble? "If I could be going down for this you could at least tell me what was so bad about that shipment."
"Guns, headed for Tehran. I am sure you understand the severity of such a crime." He nods at me, and I stop breathing for a moment. I had no idea my father was involved in something so heavy. It didn’t even cross my mind. And why did he have me sign for it knowing what it was and what kind of trouble I could get in? I’m not sure I care anymore about throwing him under the bus.
"I can’t believe my father would involve me in something like that."
"Believe what you want to believe, it doesn't change anything right now," Travolta's twin pipes up, and I glare at him.
"So, what can I do? How can I get out of this? I’m a young woman. I’m sure you know I don’t want to be in prison. I want to live my life. Do you want me to testify against my father or something?"
Toothless shakes his head. "No, though we may go after him based on our conversation. What we would like to offer you is a clean slate in exchange for your help."
"What help could I possibly be?"
Travolta points to the screen, and I see an ugly, older man standing with some glamorous women and a couple of younger men that look like more handsome versions of the old man.
"These are the Falcones," says Toothless.
"As in -" He puts his hand up to cut me off.
"We have been after the Falcones, especially Franco, for the past two decades. His reach is huge, especially now that his sons are grown and involved. We want you to use the resources at your disposal to help give us information to take him down. Even the CIA needs proof, after all."
"What connections would a woman like me -"
Travolta cuts me off this time. "Let’s not pretend like we don’t know who your father works for."
I sink back into my seat, clearing my throat. "Fine, how am I even supposed to get close enough to get anything, though?"
"It’s up to you, but you are a woman..."