She huffs but doesn't complain any further. I reach into my bag and pull out my iPad. The encrypted satellite signal flickers to life as I open the device, and I begin reviewing the limited information we've managed to gather on Simone and Toni.
“Any updates from Red?” Damon asks, stealing a quick glance my way.
I nod, scrolling through the data. “Yeah, she’s working on putting together a dossier. The more we know, the better.”
“Whatdowe know?” Emery mutters from the backseat. “I mean… Who are they?”
I clear my throat. Emery’s strange attachment to Toni is worrisome. She’s made it clear multiple times that Simone is the real danger and that Toni, whether she’d admit it or not, was merely a pawn. In my eyes, they’re both equally guilty but whatever relationship Emery established with Toni has the potential to be the true danger. Given what Emery’s told us, I fear Toni may be equally attached.
“The information so far is limited,” I say, scrolling through Red’s files. “Simone Laurent is a French national. She and her family immigrated to the US several years ago through the diversity lottery. Since then she’s been working odd jobs here and there. Her employment record is rather spotty. I assume that means whatever she’s been doing to support herself isn’t IRS-friendly. Her last known residence is outdated, and her contact information leads to dead ends.”
I slide the screen to Toni’s information which is a bit more extensive. “Antonia Mancini was born in Albany but spent most of her childhood in Sicily before returning to the States for school. She’s got a computer science degree from MIT but strangely works as a freelance graphic designer, according to her tax documents.” I frown at the information. “Honestly, there’snothing incredibly incriminating about Toni. She’s never been arrested, not even a parking ticket?—”
“Probably because she could just wipe it from the system if she wanted,” Damon interrupts me, scowling. “Fucking hackers.”
“She’s a gray hat,” I add, reading Red’s notes. “Apparently, she’s not completely amoral. Only partially.”
Damon scoffs. “Kidnapping and extortion, Q. Need I say more?”
I sigh. “Don’t shoot the messenger, I’m simply relaying what Red has told us about her.”
“What about,” Emery’s voice cracks, but she covers it up with a small cough. “What about her family? Is it true? Everything she told me? About her… About her sister? And the, uh…” I can see her wince through the rearview mirror. “And the Diazenix scandal?”
My jaw tenses. “There is a death certificate for a Lucia Mancini dated two years ago. The cause of death…” I swallow. “The cause of death was a stroke, most likely due to lack of preventive care.”
The color drains from Emery’s face. “So she wasn’t lying.”
“That’s enough.” Damon slams the steering wheel. “Put that shit away. Thewhydoesn’t matter, Emery. She hurt you, and she was planning to fucking kill you. How can you have sympathy for a person like that?” His voice strains, the tips of his ears burning up. “Losing family is not a green light to exact revenge, to fucking kill an innocent person.” He grips the wheel, staring out into the winding road. “My entire family died when that chopper went down. Did I go and fucking slaughter the company that made the helicopter? Or the engineers? Or the salespeople that sold us that model?”
“Damon, please.” Emery reaches through the center console, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine,” Damon grunts, turning sharply onto a paved driveway. The car jerks when he slams on the brakes. “We’re here.”
The cabin, our safehouse, is surrounded by towering trees. Completely off-grid. Hydro and solar operated. We've chosen it because it’s remote, isolated. Harder for anyone to track us. To find us. Find her.
Damon turns off the engine, and we spill out of the car, stretching our cramped muscles.
Finally.
“Let's get inside,” Damon says, storming toward the entrance. “Emery can shower first.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Emery whispers as we hang back for several seconds. She crosses her arms over her parka, expression pained and weary as she stares at the cabin. “He just seems… He seems so angry.” She slowly cranes her neck toward me, tilting her head up, her voice soft, almost afraid. “Is he angry with me?”
I let out a small breath and sling my arm over her tense shoulders before pulling her into my chest. My chin rests on the top of her head. I close my eyes, holding her tightly, giving her the reassurance that we’re here, that we won’t go anywhere.
“I don’t think he’s angry, darling,” I whisper. “I think he’s scared. He’s scared to lose you again.” I kiss her forehead. “We both are.”
Emery pulls away from me, and she nibbles on her bottom lip. “Doyouthink we’re in danger, Quin? Is he right to be afraid?”
“We’re safe here,” I assure her, yet my gut turns with unease. “Go shower, darling. You’ll feel better after a shower.”
Emery nods with a small smile. “You're right. A shower sounds good.” She lifts herself up on her toes, pressing a quick kiss on my cheek, and then we head up toward the cabin.
“Bathroom is upstairs,” Damon calls out from the living room as we cross the threshold. “Everything you need should be in there.”
Emery hesitates for a moment before disappearing up the stairs. I join Damon in the living room. He stands before the liquor cabinet, scanning the bottles.
I approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can have one, Damon," I say softly. "After the stressful week we've had, you’ve earned a stiff drink.”
