Page 21 of A Dangerous Prize

I could ask her for a safe house. And if she thinks the safe house is for me, she'll come through.

Hard as it is to ask for help, trusting my cousin is a damn sight easier than placing faith in that honey-voiced Judas who pretended to care. Who whispered promises as the shackles closed around me…

"Enough!" I snap aloud, my voice sounding strangely loud in the silence. "God, go to bed," I continue scolding myself.

I'll do that. I'll go to bed.

And I'll ignore that throb in my core, because giving in to it would mean giving in to something dangerous. Something illicit.

Something that could destroy me completely.

* * *

I forgo my usual morning jog the next day, too keyed up to settle into any routine. Instead, I head straight for Juno's, determined to secure a safe house before my restless energy combusts. The Bianchi thug at the door raises an eyebrow at my early arrival, but lets me pass without comment. Perks of being the Boss's baby cousin. I take the stairs quickly, rapping my knuckles against the heavy oak door of her bedroom.

It swings open to reveal Juno, still in a black silk robe, her espresso eyes widening. "Alessa? What is it? Has something—"

"Sorry to drop in unannounced." I flash an apologetic smile, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability. "I need a favor. A safe house, no questions asked."

Juno's gaze sharpens, probing. "The FBI's really got you on the run, don't they? Don't worry, we'll keep you safe." She reaches out to squeeze my arm. "But why not have your father handle it? Surely the Mancinis can shelter you?"

I hesitate, warring with myself. But the less Juno knows, the better. Things are tangled enough already. "I'd rather not be beholden to the Don more than I am," I reply tersely. "Thought I could count on you to help, no strings attached."

Juno tilts her head, scrutinizing me. Before she can press further, Caitlin appears behind her in the doorway, pulling her own robe shut. "Of course Juno will help. Juno, quit playing inquisitor." She clucks her tongue at Juno. "That's no way to treat family."

"Of course." Juno exhales, smiling ruefully. "Forgive me, Alessa. Consider it done." I follow her to her study, where she fishes out a key from her desk and presses it into my palm. "This one is comfortable as well as safe."

Relief loosens some of the tension coiled inside me. "Thank you, Juno. I'm in your debt." The words stick slightly in my throat.

Juno waves them off. "Nonsense. What's family for?"

I leave Juno's place at a brisk clip, emotions churning. Relief at securing the safe house vies with lingering unease. Natalie's words from last night replay in my mind, equal parts infuriating and uncomfortably appealing. The idea of exposing the rot inside her precious Bureau holds undeniable satisfaction for me. It would be a slap in the face to all those rich bitches who turned their noses up at me the other night at Madison Fontaine's gala. But the truth is, I have no idea what more evidence the FBI might have.

Lucia Rossi keeps assuring me it's all under control…

But if there's one thing I've learned, it's not to trust anyone, and especially not lawyers.

At a corner bodega, I buy a burner phone. Can't risk a digital trail from my other phone, even if Natalie was being honest when she told me that surveillance on me has been dialed back. Outside again, I pause under the awning, steeling my nerves before I check the number on my old phone and then dial it slowly, cursing myself for the hesitance plaguing my movements.

One ring. Two. Then—

"Miller," comes the brisk greeting, guarded but undeniably her. Hearing that clear voice sends a wholly unwelcome spike of heat through my belly.

"Alessa," I reply neutrally, ignoring her gasp of surprise. Serves her right.

"I—I wasn't sure when you'd call."

Was that a tremor in her tone? Good. Let her stew in uncertainty for once. "I told you; this is a priority for me. That girl needs help." I harden my voice, clinging to righteous anger. "I've secured a safe house. I want to know when it would be possible to move her. I thought you might be able to help."

There's a very long pause. "I can't give you any specific information about FBI surveillance, Alessa."

"That's not what I'm asking," I snap. "What I need is yourhelp, Agent Miller. Your thoughts about whether this safe house will be safeenough. And then, if it is, how to move the package there safely."

"Right. Of course." Eagerness reshapes her voice now. It curdles my stomach. "I'm free this evening to strategize," she offers. "Your place, for privacy?"

The audacity raises my hackles. I gave her no leave to set terms or terrain. That's my advantage to claim. But underneath the irritation, I consider the vengeance I've been nursing.

Tonight could be step one in teaching Natalie Miller a very profound lesson.

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