Page 28 of A Dangerous Prize

"It's in Queens," I say. "I'll text you the exact location."

"Queens?" she says, an odd note in her voice. But she goes on before I can ask about it. "Meet me there at 1am." Her voice is all brisk efficiency again, but I sense the underlying currents. The ceasefire between us remains fragile as thin ice, threatening to crack and plunge us back into the frigid depths. Yet the thought of seeing her again sends a flutter through my belly I strive not to examine too closely.

I shake myself inwardly. Focus on the mission for now. "Thank you. I'll explain more tonight."

Elena is watching me closely when I end the call. I arrange my features into a reassuring smile. "You'll be out of here soon, I promise. For tonight, though, you'll need to stay here at the Ruby."

She flies off the stool to hug me tightly, wincing only a little at the pressure. "I knew I could trust you," she whispers.

I blink back an unexpected tear over her shoulder. All the money and power at my fingertips, and yet protecting my sisters feels more rewarding than any rush of adrenaline in the casino basement.

This is what gives my life meaning.

And Natalie Miller, for all her lies, understands that too. Together wecansave Elena.

"Let me show you where you'll be staying," I tell her, before I start bawling.

The safe room beyond the lobby is still set up as it was, despite the FBI raid. Plenty of water and food, and entertainment, too. It's risky to keep her in there with both the Feds and Vince Ricci keeping an eye on me, but there's nowhere else for now.

Not until I satisfy myself that Juno's safe house is the better option.

* * *

I leave Elena there, after calling in the usual Ruby security detail to keep watch outside as well. The sun has just begun to set, painting the city in stunning hues of orange and pink. I pause for just a moment to appreciate the beauty before I get back in the town car, knowing harsher shadows will soon descend.

A prickling sense I'm being watched has me scanning the street. Sure enough, a dark sedan pulls away from the curb and begins trailing my car at a distance as my driver moves along the streets. I don't recognize the driver, but the bulky silhouette of the man next to him is unmistakable—Tony Sorento, one of Vince Ricci's men, and one of those who assaulted Elena.

That son of a bitch will get what's coming to him.

But for now, he'll have to wait. Elena is safe; the Ruby security is top notch. But clearly I'm no longer afforded even the illusion of privacy as far as this faction of the Mancini Family is concerned. Ricci and his thugs want me to know I'm now a target.

Fine. Let them watch. Better that they keep their eyes on me than look for Elena.

I instruct my driver in an undertone to take a circuitous route home, keeping to crowded streets and making unpredictable turns. It's just a test; Vince Ricci definitely knows where I live, but I want to see what the tail does. The goons following me are clearly rank amateurs; we lose them easily. But it's only a matter of time until I can tell Daddy about this threat within the ranks of our supposed allies.

For now, I need to focus on getting Elena Martinez to safety. The rest I'll deal with as it comes. One thing the de Lucas excel at is adapting to survive. It's a skill I've had to hone further since the FBI entered my life.

The night has descended by the time I reach home, but I've never been afraid of the dark.

CHAPTER13

ALESSA

Just before one in the morning, I arrive at the address of Juno's safe house in Queens. The address is inconspicuous, nestled among the rows of aging brownstones and graffiti-tagged walls. I park my own car a block away and walk down.

Natalie stands on the opposite side of the street to the safehouse entrance, her posture tense. She's in what I've come to realize is actually her usual attire—dark jeans and a heavy coat, hair tied back in a ponytail. As I approach, her eyes flicker over me, a mix of relief and uncertainty etched on her face.

"Is this it?" she asks, glancing at the building. It's three stories tall, with a faded blue door and windows that stare out like blind eyes. It could be any other townhouse on the block, but I know better. This is Juno's handiwork, a safe house in the heart of Queens. I'm staying tight-lipped about the truth of its origin.

I nod, fishing out a set of keys from my pocket. "This is the place. Let's check it out."

We enter the safe house, the door closing with a heavy thud behind us. The interior is surprisingly modern, a stark contrast to the exterior. The walls are freshly painted, and the floors gleam under the muted lighting. It feels less like a hideout and more like a well-kept home—but with no external windows.

As we move through the rooms, I take in the details. The living room is small but holds a comfy sofa and a flat-screen TV, mounted on the wall. There are bookshelves filled with a variety of genres, from crime thrillers to classic literature, and a small collection of movies. It's clear that someone has gone to great lengths to ensure comfort, not just safety in this place.

Very Juno. I have to smile to myself at her preparedness.

The kitchen is equally impressive, stocked with non-perishable food, a fully equipped first aid kit, and in one of the bedrooms there's a variety of clothing options. Elena should fit them. But it's the hidden panic room that catches my attention. Tucked behind a false wall in the hallway, it's a small, fortified space with its own independent power supply, a secure phone line, and monitors displaying different angles of the exterior.

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