Page 113 of Merciless Daddy

Still, he did not look until I told him I was dressed.

Three bags stood near the bedroom door. One held clothes and toiletries. One held laptops, paper files, secure drives, cash, and weapons.

The third held my scratchy blanket.

The folded agreement rested on top inside a leather document sleeve. Beneath it sat the coloring book, pencils, and the storybook about the firebird.

I stared into the bag.

Sal lifted the operational case.

“You packed these?” I asked, incredulous. “The pencils?”

“Of course.”

“We’re evacuating because Gianni found us.”

“Yes, bella.”

“And you packed coloring pencils?”

“You need them.”

“I need a passport.”

“That’s in the black case. We actually have space for both.”

I touched the edge of the blanket. Coarse wool scraped my fingertip.

“You put them with the essential things.”

He looked at me as if I had said something strange.

“They are essential things. You know that.”

I shut the bag.

“Ready,” I said.

His gaze stayed on me for another second.

Then he offered his hand.

I took it.

We left through the freight elevator.

The halls were empty. Staff had already gone, except for the guards, who waited at each turn, dressed like businessmen except for the weapons held low against their legs.

No one spoke.

In the underground garage, four black SUVs idled near the exit. Beyond them sat two ordinary sedans. Grey. Forgettable. Salt streaked along the doors. Sal guided me toward the sedans.

“The convoy takes Lake Shore Drive south,” he said. “A second team joins near the expressway. They’ll continue toward Midway.”

“Airport cameras will see them.”

“Right.”