Reign (The Italian Cartel #3) - Shandi Boyes Page 0,40

we’re caught with this device, I’m confident we will be.

After gulping down a quick breath to settle my nerves, I log into her phone. It isn’t one of those state-of-the-art ones with apps and gimmicks. It’s retro, funky, and only has ten percent charge remaining. Fuck it!

Needing to hurry, I push out a little abruptly. “Where are your contacts?”

Audrey peers at me with her big eyes out in full force but remains as quiet as a church mouse.

“So I can look up Dimitri’s number,” I hurry her along.

Shock blankets Audrey’s usually pretty face. “You don’t know it?”

Her question shouldn’t jab my heart with tiny knives, but it does. I don’t even know the address of the compound I was held captive in, much less Dimitri’s cell phone number. We didn’t have that type of relationship. It was more fired by sexual attraction than communication, but since I can’t tell Dimitri’s wife that, I shrug instead.

Audrey does a quick sweep of the room to ensure we’re without eyes before logging into the text message section of her phone. Dimitri’s texts were the only ones received by this phone, so his number is easily distinguishable.

While endeavoring to work out how I can explain to Dimitri that his wife is still alive, I try not to look too deeply into how impersonal his messages to Audrey were during their marriage. They’re stern and to the point like he was communicating with a member of his staff instead of his other half.

“Type something,” I grumble to myself a short time later, frustrated I’m more concerned about how Dimitri will react to discovering Audrey is alive than getting out of the situation that caused the miscarriage of my child.

My hands shake as I type out a string of text. It’s more a business-like contact for Smith to decipher than an attempt to clutch to the final hours I can pretend Dimitri is mine. I’d rather do that face to face than via the phone his wife owns.

Me: Tracker disabled. Ruse still in effect. Send help to this location. Battery low. Act quickly. Roxie xx

With the tiny gray device swamped by my hands, I move to the window I was peering out of earlier today before snapping a snapshot of the landscape. Although there isn’t much to go off, I’m hopeful the preparation of the crops surrounding us will give Smith some clues to work with. It was amazing what he unearthed by looking at nothing but the satellite images of my grandparents’ estate. If he can do that again here, we may be found sooner rather than later.

“Jesus.”

I almost die a thousand deaths when Audrey’s cell phone suddenly lets out a loud alert. I have no clue how to silence it, so I clench it with everything I have, hopeful my squeeze will suffocate its squeals without damaging it.

With my pulse beeping in my neck, and my eyes wide, I stray them to the door I’m anticipating for Maestro to shoot through at any moment.

When that doesn’t occur within the next six seconds, I shift my eyes back to Audrey, wipe at the sweat on my brow, then drop my eyes to the screen of her phone. My only just receding panic gets a second wind when I discover the reason for the noise. My message couldn’t be delivered to Dimitri’s number since it is no longer in service.

Dammit!

After a couple of seconds of deliberation, I conjure up a new plan of attack. Although Audrey’s phone is outdated, most social media sites were around when it was invented.

With my heart in my throat, I snap another picture of the landscape, save it, gingerly find my way to the internet browser, then log into my Instagram account. Smith mentioned he liked a handful of my drawings when he hacked into my Instagram account at the start of my ‘arrangement’ with Dimitri. He could have been lying to ease my panic when Dimitri was drugged, but that doesn’t seem like something he would do. He’s pretty truthful, even to the point of being brutally honest.

A ghost-like smile creeps across my face when I tap on the notifications on my Instagram page. Excluding clients, I don’t get many interactions on my posts, so I’m certain the eight likes in a row are from Smith.

After following him, I prepare to send him a message. I could put the details in a post, but Maestro unknowingly mentioned two nights ago that I’ve been under surveillance for a while, so I