Page 63 of The Mafia King's Baby

The message appears on my own phone moments later. It’s from a former FBI analyst who’s been feeding us information about internal affairs investigations. He or she is someone who’s been providing intelligence about Lang’s network from the inside, always through digital channels, and never in person. The fact that Agent X, as we call him/her, wants to meet face-to-face suggests either desperation or information too sensitive for electronic transmission.

I read the message twice, noting the urgency in the phrasing and the specific security protocols he’s requesting. “X is asking for a meeting somewhere remote. Says what he has is too sensitive for electronic transmission.”

“It could be a trap.” Celia’s voice carries the caution I’ve been teaching her to embrace since we started this investigation.

“Yes.” I study the message again, weighing risks against potential intelligence value. The contact has been reliable so far, providing information that’s checked out under scrutiny, but reliability in digital communications doesn’t guarantee trustworthiness in person. “If it’s legitimate, this could be the final piece we need to expose the entire network.”

Leonid pulls up maps on his laptop, satellite imagery showing terrain features and road networks around potential meeting locations. His finger traces routes that offer tactical advantages—multiple escape routes, clear sight lines, and minimal civilian presence. The kind of remote spots where conversations can happen without electronic surveillance or unwanted witnesses. I also don’t want that meeting place to be anywhere near the compound or even in Idaho.

“I don’t want you involved in this.” I look directly at Celia, noting the way her jaw tightens before I even finish speaking. “It’s too risky, especially now.”

“I’ve been part of this investigation from the beginning. I’m not sitting on the sidelines now.” Her voice carries the stubborn determination that first attracted me to her, but now also terrifies me.

“You’re pregnant. The stakes have changed.”

“The stakes changed when we decided to expose federal corruption instead of running away.” She leans forward, meeting my gaze with steady resolve. “I stood beside you in Washington, D.C. I helped analyze evidence that could get us all killed. Don’t try to protect me by cutting me out now.”

The argument we’ve been having in various forms since she told me about the pregnancy resurfaces with familiar intensity. My every instinct screams to keep her safe, to lock her away from danger until this is over, but I also understand the woman I fell in love with isn’t someone who can be locked away without damaging the trust between us.

“If you come, you follow my rules completely.” I study her face, looking for any sign of compromise or uncertainty. “You stay in the vehicle. You stay out of sight unless something goes catastrophically wrong. Do you know how to shoot?” The question occurs to me suddenly. I’ve been assuming she can handle a firearm, but we’ve never discussed it.

“My father taught me.” Something shifts in her expression, revealing a hint of fondness from an old memory. “He took me to the range several times a year from the time I was eight and even arranged trap shooting for one of my birthdays when I turnedsixteen.” She gives a nostalgic smile. “Some sweet sixteen party, huh?”

I smile but quickly return to the topic of discussion. “You’re comfortable with firearms?”

“It was always more his thing than mine, but I’m competent. Dad insisted I understand gun safety and basic marksmanship.” She pauses, seeming to consider her next words. “I never thought I’d be grateful for those lessons, but I am now.”

“Good. You’ll carry a pistol, and you’ll use it if necessary to protect yourself.”

She doesn’t hesitate to say, “Agreed.”

That partially mollifies me but the speed of her acceptance makes me suspicious. “I mean it, Celia. This isn’t negotiable.”

“I understand the risks. I also understand that we’re stronger together than apart.” She reaches for my hand. “Besides, you need someone watching your back who isn’t walking into potential gunfire with you.”

Leonid closes his laptop with finality. “The meeting is set for tomorrow afternoon in a remote forest location in Washington state. According to topography, it has multiple exit strategies and minimal exposure time. In and out is only a brisk mile walk to the location I’ve picked, with a parking area nearby.” He looks between Celia and me. “If we’re doing this, we do it right. You’ll have binoculars and a parabolic mic to hear and see the meeting but maintain a safe distance.”

She nods her agreement, and I finally huff a sigh. “Fine. You can come.” She knows better than to give me a smile of victory, but Ican hear her cheering in her head. I’m a fool, but I’m her fool and can’t change that now.

The next afternoonfinds us driving through winding forest roads toward coordinates that place us thirty miles from the nearest town in Eastern Washington. The SUV handles the rough terrain easily, but tension fills the enclosed space like smoke. Celia sits in the back seat, hands clenched around the strap of her bag, watching the forest flash past through tinted windows.

“Final rundown,” says Leonid without taking his gaze off the road. “Meeting is transactional. Get the intelligence, verify its authenticity, and get out. No unnecessary conversation, and no extended exposure.”

I check my sidearm for the third time, muscle memory from years of operations where preparation meant survival. “Celia stays with the vehicle, engine running, and ready to move if anything goes wrong.” I turn to look at her. “If shooting starts, you drive away. Don’t wait for us, and don’t try to help. Get to the secondary safe house and wait for contact.”

Her reflection in the rearview mirror shows the kind of expression that suggests she’s agreeing to something she has no intention of following through on, making me snort and shake my head. “Understood.”

The rendezvous point comes into view through the dense forest. It’s a crumbling structure that appears to have been a ranger station several decades ago. The building’s collapsed roof sections, shattered windows, and weather-stained walls tella clear story of long abandonment. It is an ideal location for a covert meeting, provided that our contact is truly the only person aware of its existence besides Leonid, who picked the meeting spot.

I scan the surrounding forest through binoculars, looking for signs of surveillance or ambush. The tree line offers dozens of potential hiding spots, but I don’t see movement or unusual shadows. Either we’re alone, or whoever might be watching is better at concealment than I am at detection.

“Vehicle stays running, doors locked, and windows up.” I turn to face Celia. “Any sign of trouble, you leave immediately.”

She nods, though her grip on the pistol I insisted she carry suggests she’s prepared for possibilities beyond simple escape. Leonid sets up the parabolic mic for her, showing her how to use it. Right now, it reveals the sound of wind blowing through the trees, but it’s working. She lifts the binoculars he gives her and focuses on the wrong area. I gently redirect her toward the dilapidated structure. “We’re meeting there.”

She flushes but gives a small chuckle. “A sense of direction isn’t my forte.”

Overcome with fear of losing her, I pull her in for a long kiss. “Be safe and make smart choices.”

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