Page 1 of Hacker Betrayed

CHAPTER1

Mia

Istared at the cursiveCin the middle of the ten-foot iron gate which led to my family's estate. Dried blood covered my hands as I pressed my thumb to the security panel. The probability of my fingerprint working was slim. I hadn't spoken to my family or entered the thirty thousand square foot mansion in twelve years.

The screen flashed green and displayed my picture. If I weren't on a mission to find my son, I would stop and analyze the fact my parents had a photo from the farmers market from six months ago.

I eased off the brake and drove up the long, winding driveway. The closer I got to the house, the harder my heart beat against my chest. Guards dressed in tactical gear prowled along the property line with assault rifles. My mother, Catherine Clark, stood at the top of the steps wearing a long, flowing white dress, her blonde hair curled in perfect ringlets down her back. Everything she did was calculated, and her warm smile only made for a false sense of safety.

My Glock tucked in its holster and the knife strapped to my ankle were the only items that truly made me feel safe. Too bad I hadn't had them growing up as the daughter of the most feared crime family in Miami.

Before I exited the car, I pulled my silver bracelet off my wrist and placed the piece of jewelry under the seat in case I didn't make it out of the house alive. My boss would search for me when I didn't arrive at Club Rose for my assignment, and the first thing he would do would be to pull my GPS location.

Mom hadn't moved from her spot at the top of the stairs, but her smile had slipped into a scowl. I slid out of my car and tugged the light jacket I had on tighter around my body. The sun had dropped below the tree line, the Florida heat beat down on me, but I'd kept the covering on to hide my gun and the blood on my shirt.

"Dalia, honey, it's been too long. Come here and let me see you," my mom said.

I climbed up the steps but didn't walk into her open arms. "This isn't a social call. I'm here to speak with Father, and then I will be on my way."

From the outside, many thought my mother was the sweetest woman. She sat on the board of many foundations and my family donated their dirty money to those causes. My parents had fostered many kids over the years, but never adopted one. Many of them, worked while still in the system for Dad and his multiple illegal businesses. If I had to guess a few still worked for him.

Mom was just as evil as my father, and sometimes I thought she was worse. Mom grew up in the mob and married my father, a low-level enforcer, but the two of them took over for my grandfather.

"Your father is in a meeting. We can have a cup of tea while he finishes up work, and you can clean up." She turned and walked into the house.

I hesitated at the threshold, worried I'd made a mistake coming alone. My boss would kill me if he found out I planned to march right up to the front door of one of the crime families on the watch list. The problem was, I spent years covering my tracks, crafting a back story that never led to the Clark family. Blackwood Mercenary had dug into my family's organization over the years, but I quickly moved myself off the cases that would deal with my family. Nobody talked about Armando's dead daughter. My death was published across all the news stations, along with my late husband’s. The boat explosion gave me the perfect cover to start over. Except my father knew I didn't die that night, but they didn't want to help me. The night I begged for their assistance was the last time I saw my parents in person. But that was a long time ago. Dalia Clark died the same night her husband did.

With each step I took through the house, dread washed over me. A maid stopped and stared as we passed through the foyer and the sitting room. Mom sat on the white couch, but I stood a few feet away from the wall that had the family portrait of my mother, dad, twin brother, and two younger sisters.

"You get your stubbornness from your father," Mom huffed as she typed on her phone. "I'll have the maid bring a change of clothing and a warm cloth for you to clean the blood off your hands."

"Why bother? I know I’ll have to fight my way out of here. It's not like you and Dad haven't sent the enforcers after me over the years. I stopped counting when the number hit thirty-five. So why act like you give two shits now?” I asked.

Mom placed her phone to the side, all indignation. "If we wanted you dead, we would have had you killed years ago. I don't know why you think we are such evil people. Did I not hug you enough as a kid?"

I frowned. "You barely acknowledged our existence. Do you want me to name all the times you’ve tried to kill me in the past twelve years? I have somewhere to be and don't have all night."

"I can assure you we have never made an attempt on your life. You chose to walk away from us years ago. We did you a favor and let the media run the story about your death. I was the one who had to plan your funeral."

I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. They hadn't allowed anyone but immediate family at my wake, which meant they did jack shit. I was positive she didn't even buy a headstone, but leave it to my mother to turn everything back to how much she had to suffer because of something one of her kids did.

"Things have changed here over the years. So, either you're not as tied in with Dad's business as much as you used to be? Or does he keep the part where he is trying to kill me a secret? I will give him credit for always making the attempts on my life seem like an accident."

Six months prior, I found a small bomb attached to the bottom of my SUV. I'd always checked my cars over before getting in one. People who made incendiary devices had a signature when they designed their explosives. Ted Norwood spent hours teaching me how to build bombs when I was a teen. The one wired to my vehicle had Ted's craftsmanship. Especially the homemade wires he used.

"We have no reason to kill you, dear." Mom paused when the maid entered the room carrying a tray. She handed me a cup of tea and a T-shirt. "I'm happy you are here, so we can discuss your place in the family."

I'd never wanted to see anyone under the Clark roof again. They'd sold me for an alliance on my eighteenth birthday. The only good that came out of the marriage was my son, and my husband at the bottom of the ocean. "I don't have time for this. Either I talk with Dad, or I walk out the door."

"You were always so dramatic," Mom replied as she took a sip of her tea.

"Unlike you, I give a shit when someone takes my kid." I figured my family orchestrated Lucas's kidnapping. When I uncovered the person who killed Tabitha, the woman who’d been raising my son, I wouldn't think twice as I put a bullet in their head. I'd thought I'd kept his identity a secret, but someone came after him.

Mom's brows drew together. "Son? You don't have any children, dear." Her perfectly crafted mask slipped for a second.

"You're telling me you had a picture of me in the security system from six months ago, but you didn't know I had a son?"

"She didn't know," my father announced from the doorway. "Let's talk in my study."

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