Page 96 of Merciless Daddy

“Daddy?”

“Yes, little one?”

“You drive me crazy but . . . thank you for being you.”

Then she left before I could answer.

I sat alone with an erection and the certainty that restraint had bought me something desire could not.

A little more trust.

On the third evening, Pietro called at ten-forty while Yelena and I sat at the dining table reviewing dispatch records. His camera stayed off. Behind his voice I heard a door alarm chirping and Tonio swearing in Italian.

“We’re inside,” Pietro said. “Two guards subdued. Alive.”

“Regrettably,” Tonio added.

“You were told no deaths,” I said.

“This is why I said regrettably.”

Angela’s voice came next. “I have the central account. Tracker deletion has started. There are more endpoints than expected.”

A live directory appeared on our screen. Vehicle numbers. Phones. Aircraft. Commercial property accounts.

Yelena leaned closer. Angela scrolled.

“Stop,” Yelena said.

Angela stopped immediately.

A coded entry sat halfway down the page.

AS-4911. PROBABLE. VISUAL PENDING.

The service stair code. The Astor Street building. They had found us.

Cold moved through me.

“What is it?” Angela asked.

“This building,” Yelena said. “Astor Street. Four-nine-one-one is the service access code Sal gave me the first night. They know where I am?”

I was already on my feet.

“Pietro, copy every record attached to that entry before deletion.”

“Working.”

“Tonio, how long until you can leave?”

“Eight minutes.”

“Make it four.”

I called security.

Staff relocation first. Every civilian employee moved out through separate exits and told there was an electrical fault. Guards reassigned. Building vehicles abandoned in place and replaced from three unrelated garages. No one returned home by a regular route.