The Black Wolf - J.A. Redmerski Page 0,93

“You should take your clothes off more often in front of people—it’s nice under there.”

She snarls at me.

“I’m assuming,” Nora says, “you need one of us to contact the client and let him know we’ll have Francesca for him? What time should we tell him to meet you at the drop-off?”

“Don’t worry about calling him,” I say, fitting my arms into my dress shirt. “I’ll contact him myself when I have a better idea.”

“What are you going to do?” Izabel asks.

“What I came here to do.”

“And does your plan,” Izabel says, “involve Olivia Bram in any way?” She looks up at me with accusation.

“It was never gonna happen, Izzy. You knew it wasn’t going into this. I know you had hope—you survived, after all—but your situation was one in a million. Sorry, but there’s nothing we can do for Olivia Bram.”

I turn on my heels and leave, feeling stung by that wounded look on Izzy’s face when I shut the door.

Niklas

I drive a rental to the mansion so I have a way back—can’t very well pull any of this off with one of Francesca’s men as my getaway driver. Already things will be difficult because it’s broad daylight, and because I still get frisked for weapons at the front door and will be without my gun.

But I have a plan. Some of it I went over with Nora last night. I feel bad about not waking Izzy up to let her in on the discussion, but it is what it is.

Nora and Izabel’s job is to watch over Sian—mainly so she doesn’t try to run and end up causing us any trouble—and to get everything packed; leave the hotel and be waiting for me on our private plane.

I’m going to drug Francesca and use Emilio to help me get her out of the mansion—Sian is the trade. It has to work. It’s the only plan I have.

Izabel

“Please—I’m grateful that you people are helping me,” Sian says, “but I can’t leave Italy without Emilio and our daughter. I just can’t!”

“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing her face carefully, forcing her gaze. “If you don’t leave with us now, you’ll end up dead. Emilio will end up dead. This is the way it has to be done. You go with us to the United States and”—I shouldn’t say this but I’m going to anyway—“and after you’re safe where no one can find you, I’ll do what I can to find your baby. And Emilio.”

“Izabel,” Nora says with caution.

I turn to see her standing beside me; You can’t help that girl, her eyes tell me.

I’m saying what needs to be said to get her to trust us, my eyes tell her.

Nora nods.

I look back into Sian’s hopeful face.

“Leave with us,” I say, “and when you walk out that door, just be calm and act normal—savor your first real taste of freedom; think of your daughter and of Emilio and of being reunited with them soon, and I promise you that you will be if you just trust me.”

It takes her a moment, but finally Sian nods; she reaches up and wipes tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “OK,” she says.

“We need to go,” Nora urges.

“Are you ready?” I ask Sian.

“Yes.”

With bags and suitcases in tow, we leave the hotel and head for the plane.

Niklas

“Unfortunately,” I tell Francesca, “none of these girls will do, either.”

Francesca walks around a line of nine cyprians all standing in a confused row: two of them keep asking what’s going on; two more are giving me go-to-hell looks; one is crying because she thinks she did something wrong and was brought here to be killed; the other four think I’m just looking to buy their services and were happy to oblige until I just rejected them. Now they’re also telling me with their eyes to go to hell.

“That is a shame,” Francesca says.

She waves them off and they follow Miz Ghita out of the room.

“Mother,” Francesca calls out, and Miz Ghita stops at the door. “I do not want to be disturbed by anyone for the next hour at least.” Hopefully Emilio is still brazen enough to defy her orders—I need him.

“Very well.” Miz Ghita glares hatefully at me and leaves, closing the door.

Francesca strolls over in that sultry walk of hers and fits her fingers around the tiny lock in the door knob, turning it. She’s dressed in another robe today—white, of course—but devoid of innocent girls’ blood. And I bet there’s nothing on

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