THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID”

Panic clawed at Claire’s throat, but she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Matteo was still asleep against her arm. If she screamed now, she would only terrify the boy and provoke Elias.

She had to think.

The heavy SUV rumbled over deep ruts in the muddy road, the headlights cutting through the driving rain.

“Elias,” Claire said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “This isn’t the way to the lake house.”

“Road closure on I-94,” Elias lied smoothly, not breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Taking a shortcut through the county roads.”

He was lying. The GPS on the dashboard was completely turned off.

Claire slid her hand slowly into her apron pocket. She had nothing. A lint roller, a spare set of house keys, and the iron skeleton key she had hidden in her bra. No weapons. No phone—Luca had ordered her to leave it behind to avoid being tracked.

She looked at the heavy door handle. Locked. Child locks were engaged.

The SUV slowed down, pulling into a massive clearing surrounded by towering stacks of cut timber. In the center of the yard stood a corrugated metal warehouse, its massive bay doors rolled up, spilling sickly yellow light into the rain.

Two black sedans were parked inside. Men in dark raincoats were standing around them, smoking.

Elias brought the vehicle to a halt and put it in park.

“Wake the boy up,” Elias commanded, pulling a heavy black handgun from his shoulder holster.

Claire’s protective instincts flared with a ferocity that surprised her. She shoved Matteo behind her, shielding his body with her own.

Matteo jolted awake, rubbing his eyes. “Claire? Are we there?”

“Shh. Stay behind me,” she whispered fiercely.

Elias stepped out into the rain and opened the rear door. “Out. Both of you.”

“Why are you doing this, Elias?” Claire demanded, refusing to move. “Mr. Moretti trusted you with his life. With his son’s life!”

Elias sneered, a look of pure disgust twisting his scarred face. “Luca Moretti is a dead man walking. He lost his edge the day his wife died. He spends his weekends building birdhouses with a kid instead of running the streets. Dominic Falcone promised me the Southside territory once Luca is out of the picture.”

“You’re a traitor,” Matteo yelled, his small voice cracking.

Elias reached in and grabbed Claire roughly by the arm, dragging her out into the mud. Matteo tumbled out after her, screaming.

“Shut the kid up,” Elias snapped, pushing them toward the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, the smell of damp earth and cheap cigars was nauseating. The men in raincoats turned to look at them. Among them stood a man Claire recognized immediately from the photograph.

Dominic Falcone.

He was older now, the arrogance in his face carved into deep lines. He wore a tailored suit under a trench coat, completely unaffected by the damp cold.

“Well, well,” Dominic chuckled, tossing his cigar onto the concrete floor and crushing it with his leather shoe. “Elias delivers. I told Vanessa you were worth the bribe.”

Elias holstered his weapon. “Where is my money, Dominic?”

“In the trunk,” Dominic waved a lazy hand. “But first, the leverage.”

Dominic walked slowly toward Claire and Matteo. He crouched down, trying to offer Matteo a friendly smile, but it looked more like a predator baring its teeth.

“Hello, little Moretti,” Dominic said softly. “You look just like your mother.”

Matteo spat squarely in Dominic’s face.

Dominic didn’t flinch. He slowly wiped the spit from his cheek with a silk handkerchief. Then, with terrifying speed, he backhanded the boy across the face.

Matteo hit the ground hard, crying out in pain.

“Don’t you touch him!” Claire screamed, throwing herself at Dominic. She raked her fingernails down his cheek, drawing a deep, bloody scratch before two of Falcone’s thugs grabbed her from behind, hauling her into the air.

Dominic touched his bleeding face, his eyes flashing with murderous rage.

“Feisty maid,” he spat. He looked at Elias. “Tie them to the chairs. Call Luca. Tell him we have his bastard son. If he wants him back alive, he brings the original ledger to the lumber yard alone.”

Elias frowned. “Ledger? Vanessa said this was just about getting Luca out of the mansion so she could secure the assets.”

“Vanessa is an idiot who thinks she’s playing a game,” Dominic sneered. “Old man Antonio kept a ledger of every judge, cop, and politician the Falcone family owns. He hid it somewhere. Vanessa couldn’t find it. But Luca will trade it for the boy.”

Claire’s mind raced. The iron key.

Luca’s note had said to check the boat house at the Lake Geneva property. That’s where the ledger was. And Luca had given her the key to find it, not knowing Elias was compromised.

As the thugs dragged Claire toward a rusted metal chair, she noticed something in the shadows near the roof of the warehouse. A red blinking light.

A security camera.

But this was a Falcone lumber yard. Why would a private camera have a fresh, blinking transmitter?

Before she could process it, the deafening roar of a diesel engine shattered the night.

Everyone turned toward the open bay doors.

A massive armored bulldozer, painted entirely in matte black, came crashing through the stacked timber at sixty miles an hour.

It didn’t stop at the entrance. It smashed straight into the two parked sedans, crushing them like aluminum cans in an explosion of glass and twisting metal.

Dominic’s men drew their weapons, screaming in panic.

But the bulldozer wasn’t alone.

From the treeline, a dozen high-powered floodlights snapped on, blinding everyone inside the warehouse.