my father in a Russian hotel room. My father was NSA, and the murder was recorded. That recording is in the hands of the Romanian mafia. I need you to get that video file.”
He shook his head rapidly, but the pace of his breaths lost momentum. He was listening, despite his fear. He was listening because he was too smart not to pay attention.
She started over from the beginning, filling in details about her dad, her ruse as a swallow in Vincent’s employment, Mike’s death, her fourteen-month hunt for his Easter eggs, and his ability to bring justice for all of it.
“You’re vigilantes.” He swallowed, eying Cole with suspicion. “Like…you kill people?”
“We killed the fuckers who shot you.” Tiago jerked the wheel, deliberately causing PaulVer to tumble into Cole.
She exchanged a look with Cole, attempting to borrow some of his composed patience.
“We’re part of a vigilante team that eliminates evil people.” She reached up and pulled off her blue wig, letting him see her natural red hair, her identity. “Human sex traffickers, pedophiles, and greedy, corrupt politicians.” She sighed. “Look, I’m only asking if you can hack into the Romanian mafia’s network and steal the recording, watch the video, and decide for yourself.”
“You won’t kill me?”
“Do you traffic women and sell children to predators?”
“No!” He made a horrified face.
“Do you murder innocent people?”
“No. I’ve never killed anyone. I steal from monopolized corporations and give the money to people who need it.” He rolled his lips. “And I like pretty dancers. But I don’t…I would never hurt a woman. I just like to give them my painted eggs.”
Her chest swelled with hope, but she felt the tension in the car. Everyone was on edge, holding their breaths. There was so much at stake, hinging on an eccentric, fearful teenage boy.
He lowered his feet to the floorboard and leaned toward her, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“I found a back door last year.” He raised his dark eyes to her, his accent thickening. “I’m already inside the mafia’s network.”
Her pulse took off, dancing through her veins. She was so strung out, so anxious and overjoyed she thought she might puke.
“Help us.” She lifted a trembling hand to his hairless jaw and let him see the tears welling in her eyes. “Please.”
“What will you do with the video?”
“Twelve years ago, it was turned into the NSA. I don’t know who saw the footage, but they did nothing. They covered it up and let it fall into the hands of the mafia. I’m reluctant to trust anyone in the government, especially now that Vincent Barrington is five days from becoming our President.” She drew a breath. “I was hoping you could disperse it, broadcast it all over the Internet, make it impossible to cover up. Americans need to know who they voted into office.”
He leaned back and stared out the window, watching buildings and street signs blur by. “Turn left here and head north. There’s a Starbucks up the road. They have a strong WIFI signal.”
As Tiago veered left and followed PaulVer’s directions, Cole called Matias and told him where to go.
“Thank you.” Her ribs expanded with the unstoppable release of years of pent-up emotion.
A tear escaped, running down her cheek, and Cole moved in, gripping the back of her head and kissing away the salty river.
“I’m sorry.” She laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a long time coming, and I’m emotional.”
“A moment I don’t want to miss.” He touched his forehead to hers.
Tiago pulled into the vacant parking lot of Starbucks and parked behind the building. Matias pulled in beside him.
There, PaulVer sat in the SUV with his laptop and dug through the mafia’s network files. She’d given him her father’s name and every keyword she could conjure, which he loaded into his software program to scan the mafia’s metadata.
Then they waited on pins and needles.
Most of them stood outside the vehicles behind the building. Out of view of the street, they watched and listened for the Romanian police.
The sirens never came.
Three hours later, PaulVer stepped out of the SUV and handed her the laptop. “I think this is it.”
She stared down at the paused video, her stomach twisting in knots. “Did you watch it?”
“Yes.” He frowned, his face appearing older somehow. “It’s bloody. Definitely Vincent Barrington committing murder.”
“You don’t have to watch it.” Cole cupped her jaw, pulling her gaze to his. “Once you see it, you’ll carry the image with you for the rest of your life.”
“My imagination can’t be much better.” She pressed