Chapter 4 - THE FLASH DRIVE
The hum of the jet engines suddenly sounded deafening.
Clare stared at the stuffed pink rabbit sitting innocently on the polished walnut table.
“A flash drive?” Clare whispered, her voice trembling. “I don't know what you’re talking about. I bought that rabbit for Maya at a gift shop two years ago.”
Dante didn't blink. He reached across the table and picked up the toy. With a slow, deliberate movement, he ran his thumbs along the seam of the rabbit’s back.
He stopped at a section near the tail where the pink thread was slightly darker, clumsily stitched compared to the factory seams.
“You didn't sew this,” Dante stated.
“No,” Clare breathed, her mind racing back to the chaotic morning she packed. She had grabbed clothes, diapers, passports, and Bunny. Richard had been in the shower. She hadn't looked closely at anything.
“Richard did,” Dante said. He pulled a sleek, silver pocketknife from his suit trousers. With one precise slice, he opened the seam.
Clare gasped and covered Maya’s eyes, instinctively protecting her daughter from the sight of the knife, even though Maya was already drifting back to sleep against her side.
Dante reached into the polyester stuffing.
When he pulled his fingers out, he was holding a small, black USB flash drive.
Clare stared at it in absolute horror.
“He hid it in her toy,” Clare whispered, the sickness rising in her stomach. “He used my daughter to smuggle something out of the country.”
“Or,” Dante corrected, his eyes narrowing, “he hid it in her toy because he knew you were leaving. And he needed a mule he could track.”
A reversal hit Clare so hard she felt dizzy.
Richard hadn't been surprised when she left. He hadn't been frantic. He had let her pack. He had let her take Maya.
He wanted her to run.
“Why?” Clare asked, panic threading through her voice. “Why would he want me to take this to Rome?”
“Because he knew you had family here,” Dante said, turning the small black drive over in his massive fingers. “And because Richard Peterson isn't just a financial advisor for judges in Ohio. He manages offshore accounts. Accounts that move money for people who don't like to pay taxes. Or explain where their money comes from.”
Dante looked at Clare, his gaze penetrating her soul.
“Who is his biggest client, Clare?”
“I don't know!” she cried, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Leo, who was still sleeping soundly against her chest. “He never talked about work! He said it was above my comprehension!”
Dante set the drive down on the table. “I’ll tell you who his biggest client is. It’s the Moretti family. A rival syndicate operating out of Chicago. Richard washes their money through shell corporations.”
Clare felt all the blood drain from her face. She had been married to a monster, but she had thought he was a mundane, domestic monster. She had no idea she had been sleeping next to a man laundering money for the mafia.
“But the feds are closing in on the Morettis,” Dante continued smoothly. “Subpoenas went out last week. Richard panicked. He needed to move the digital ledgers—the proof of every transaction—out of the United States. But airports are flagging his name for international travel.”
“So he used me,” Clare realized, tears of betrayal stinging her eyes. “He pushed Maya. He knew I would run. He knew I would grab the rabbit. He let me carry the evidence across the border so he wouldn't be caught with it at TSA.”
“Exactly,” Dante nodded. “And his plan was to meet you in Rome, take his daughter, take the drive, and leave you to rot in an Italian prison for kidnapping.”
Clare pulled Maya closer, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. She was drowning. She had run from a domestic abuser straight into an international crime war.
“What is on that drive?” Clare asked, terrified of the answer.
“Leverage,” Dante said simply. He picked up the drive and slipped it into his breast pocket. “Enough leverage to destroy the Moretti family entirely. Which means, Clare, you are currently holding the most valuable piece of plastic in the world.”
The plane’s intercom suddenly chimed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport. Please ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened.”
Dante stood up, adjusting his cuffs. The lethal aura returned to him instantly.
“When the plane lands,” Dante ordered, “you do not stand up. You wait for Marco. He will escort you and the children out the back of the first-class cabin to a private staircase. Do not look at Richard. Do not speak to Richard.”
“And you?” Clare asked, trembling as she secured Leo in her arms.
May you like
Dante looked down at her. His eyes flickered with a dark, dangerous promise.
“I have a meeting at baggage claim.”
