Page 62 of Protecting My Nanny

"Gladys," I say, keeping my voice steady. "There've been some threats made against me... serious threats, but the police are involved, and I'm with them now."

There's a sharp gasp on the other end. "Shane, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, we're fine," I say quickly. "They just want to take precautions, so you need to stay at the resort. They'll send an officer to keep an eye on you, but everything should be alright. Just... let's not worry Jaime, okay?"

"Of course," she replies, surprisingly calm for someone who just learned of the threats. "You're sure you're okay?"

Just then, I hear Jaime's voice in the background. "Is that Uncle Shane? Can I talk to him?"

I smile despite everything. "Sure, put him on."

"Uncle Shane!" Jaime's excitement crackles through the phone. "We're having so much fun! Gladys said I can swim in the pool all day."

I can hear the splashing of water and children playing. It's surreal how his world is still so carefree while mine is anything but.

"That's great, buddy. Have fun," I say, trying to keep my voice light.

"Did you find Nicole yet?" Jaime asks, his innocent curiosity hitting me harder than I expected.

"We're working on it, bud. Just enjoy the pool, okay? Listen to Gladys."

"Okay! Love you, Uncle Shane! Bye!"

The phone clicks, and Gladys is back on the line. "He's gone back to the pool."

"Alright, Gladys. It's really important that you don't leave the resort." Mike steps in, his voice firm. "I'm putting you on with an officer now who'll ask you some questions and stay on the line until our guy arrives."

"Yes, officer," she replies, her tone steady but concerned.

"I'll call you soon," I add, feeling the weight of it all.

"Take care, Shane," Gladys says softly.

I hand the phone to the officer, who nods and promises to return it once he's done talking to Gladys. Mike motions for me to follow him.

"Let's go to my office," he says, leading me out of the interrogation room.

Mike's office hasn't changed since the last time I was here. The same tattered chairs and dusty shelves still smell like a brand-new car after someone has just smoked a carton of cigarettes in it.

"This guy is really something," Mike says, sliding a file across the desk toward me.

I pick it up, reading aloud. "Raffaele."

"Yeah. This guy's neck-deep in all kinds of shit. Flipping on his bosses back home, planning hits here. A classic Tony Montana wannabe."

"Scarface?"

"Yeah," Mike snorts. "That movie is like the fucking American Dream to guys like him. But, just like in the movie, they always bite off more than they can chew. Same ending, too. Maybe not as dramatic, but they all go down."

Mike leans back in his chair, tapping the desk as he talks. "He's tied up with a new group over here—Le Ombre, or Obsidian, as they like to call themselves. He's making some serious moves. Big targets on his back."

"This is the guy Nicole's with?" I ask, my voice tightening.

Mike nods. "Looks like it. And apparently, she's known him for a while—way before she ever came to America."

"You think she's working with him?" The question comes out before I can stop it, my stomach twisting with the thought.

Mike shakes his head. "Nah, not unless you're working with him, too," he says with a smirk. "We don't have her tied to anything criminal. She's clean, from what we can see."

---