Making the opening wider, I dig through hundred-dollar bills banded together like so many bricks. I piled them on the couch, then counted them. Each bundle is marked ten thousand dollars, and there were fifty bundles.
I dumped the bag upside down to make sure I didn’t miss any, and an envelope fell to the floor. I picked it up, stared at it for a few seconds, then broke the seal and peeked inside. A folded piece of paper and a flash drive.
I opened the note and saw my father’s familiar scrolling script.
Cinzia,
I know I haven’t been much of a father, but this flash drive should explain some of your questions. Keep it safe and tell no one. It will ensure your safety.
You should’ve never been involved in my mess, but it was the only way I knew to keep you safe after your mother died.
The money is just my way of giving you what I’ve failed to give you over the years.
P.S. Don’t worry, it’s clean.
I reread the note three times, then smiled at his postscript. Especially since I was thinking the exact same thing about the money.
I turned the flash drive over in my hand. The famous flash drive Viper wanted to get his filthy hands on.
I don’t have a laptop, and the only computer I have access to is in the office where the Kings now hold their church meetings. Do I dare use it and take the chance of one of them walking in on me? Especially since I don’t know what I’ll find?
I dumped all the money back in the bag, then searched the room. Not one good hiding place in the whole tiny apartment, so I headed for my bedroom. I whipped open my closet, but the few clothes I have aren’t enough to hide a big black garbage bag filled with five hundred thousand dollars.
I spun around searching, and with no other choice, I shoved the bag under the bed. My bed is low enough to the ground that you’d have to get down on your hands and knees to see it, and right now, it’s the best and only available option.
I make sure it’s in the dead middle, then I sat on the bed, like that would ensure its safety, and think about what my next move should be, or if there is a next move.
Now, my eyes travel to the monitor humming against my ankle. How I hate that thing rubbing and irritating my skin, watching my every move like the sneakiest panther in the jungle.
I’ve got three more weeks until it comes off, and then . . . with five hundred thousand dollars, I can move anywhere. I realize I’m smiling, then laughing out loud like a crazy person, but, shit, it’s not every day a person finds a sack full of money under the sink.
Deuce skitters through my brain, but there’s really no reason he needs to know about it. Money has a weird way of changing people, and that much money could make someone downright dangerous.
Decision made. This money would be my secret along with the flash drive. Once I find out what’s on it, it could prove as valuable as the money. I yearn to tell someone. I think of Evie, but I don’t want her involved in anything potentially dangerous. Deuce, but do I actually trust he wouldn’t pressure me to giveit all to him, or just take it from me? He said whatever I found would be mine, but . . .
Hell, no. I know firsthand what happens when I trust an outlaw’s words.
Just drive the truck, they said.
Just stay cool, they said.
No one will bother a hot bitch like you, they said.
Now I’m basically powerless with a monitor strapped to my ankle.
So much for trust. Even my own father convinced his twenty-one-year-old daughter that nothing bad would happen. We all know how that turned out. This money is mine. A nice little bonus for wearing an ankle monitor day and night after spending six months showering with women who could easily kill me in my sleep.
Now, I just have to find out what’s on the flash drive.
My fingers itch to slip it into the monitor of the computer in the office. And why shouldn’t I? This is still my building. The Kings pay rent to me. All logical reasons except for the biggest one. Whatever is on this drive is for my eyes only, and I have to make sure I’m alone first.
I shove the drive in my pocket, step out into the hallway and hear the silence. I hit the stairs and then the back hallway. More silence. I peek out the back door. Fantastic. No Harleys in the lot, and no sign of the Kings. After slamming the door shut and locking it, I make a beeline for the office.
The monitor takes a few agonizing minutes to boot up before I can slip the flash drive into the port. Another few seconds and the screen is filled with DEA Form 473. At first, I don’t know what I’m looking at until I get past the letters and numbers and see the wordsCooperating Individual Agreement.
My eyes scan the document, then reread it. It clearly outlines the duties of an informant, including the use of recordingdevices and weekly check-ins. It’s signed by the DEA agent, the prosecutor, and the informant, Salvatore Marino, my father.
I suck in air but don’t release it as I flip through page after page of recorded conversations between my father and Viper. My father and Bullet. The routes we took up and down the East Coast, all orchestrated by the Dogs. What we carried and where it was distributed. Places, dates and people all swearing the Rabid Dogs are one of the largest fentanyl suppliers on the East Coast.
