“Late thirties.”
“Any accent?”
“Vito sounds like he’s from New York, but Baron…”
“What is it?” Daniil asks quietly.
She frowns, even as she nods. “I remember thinking it was weird that I heard Baron talking in another language on the phone but then he had no accent at all when talking to me.”
“What language?” Daniil asks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize it. It definitely wasn’t Spanish, French, or Italian. It sounded a little like Russian, but the cadence was different.”
Daniil and I exchange a look, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. These guys are undoubtedly pros and they’ve been working this trafficking ring for a long time. Which will make catching them that much more difficult.
“I’m supposed to be in Denver next week for a fashion show and big event,” Allora says quietly. “Do you think I should cancel? I mean, the men who kidnapped me wouldn’t know my schedule, so I’m not sure what to do. Part of me feels like Denver will be safer than anywhere else short-term.”
Before we address her job, we ask her a bunch more questions—most of which she doesn’t have the answers to.
“Travel is tricky,” Daniil says thoughtfully after a while. “They probably don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing, but if they found a way to hack into your phone, they might know your schedule.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. They smashed my phone when they grabbed me, Vito brought his boot down on it and crushed it.”
“That’s good news. But they still—” Daniil cuts off as Luna interrupts him.
“There’s an alert at Allora’s condo.” Rage’s voice is tight.
“A what?” Allora demands in confusion.
“I left a camera at your apartment and some motion sensors so we’d know if anyone showed up unannounced,” Rage says, staring at something on his phone. “And it looks like your kidnappers went looking for you.”
“Do something!” she whispers, staring at the two masked men skulking around in her condo.
“Even if we left now,” Daniil says gently. “They’ll be long gone before we get there.”
“I’m calling the police,” Luna says, typing into her computer.
We all huddle around Rage, watching two men ransack Allora’s condo. They don’t seem to be looking for anything, merely making a mess for no reason. One guy dumps all her utensils and small appliances on the floor, while the other man uses a knife to slice through the throw pillows on the couch.
“I picked up those pillow covers the last time I was in Milan,” she breathes, a hint of sadness in her voice.
“I’m sorry.” I find myself wanting to touch her, comfort her, even though I shouldn’t.
This is strictly business.
“What is the point of this?” she continues on a ragged breath. “I mean, why? Didn’t they already terrorize me enough?”
“They’re sending a message,” I reply in a no-nonsense voice. “They want you to know they’re watching, they know where you live, and the destruction is a metaphor for what they’re going to do to you.”
“The police are on the way,” Luna says, “but who knows if they’ll get there in time.”
“Those pillow covers are irreplaceable,” Allora mutters, clearly irritated.
“Better the pillows than you,” Courtney says gently.
She’s right about that.
So why am I beyond annoyed about what’s happening in Allora’s apartment?
