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“Great idea.” She scurries out of the room.
I wait a beat before walking into the kitchen. A guard stands by the front door, engrossed in his phone.
After I pour myself a glass of wine, I saunter down the hallway, gripping the neck of the bottle at my side. Bringing the glass to my lips, I can't help but wonder what they could be discussing behind closed doors. If they spot me out here, what excuse would I use? Perhaps I could say I was looking for the bathroom or admiring the decor. The possibilities race through my mind as I peer up at the painting outside his office. It’s a self-portrait of Torrance. He loves himself too much.
Torrance spits out a venomous demand. “Get rid of the bitch tonight. We can't have anything standing in our way of taking control of the Pitucco throne.”
Without waiting to hear any further details, I make my way to the living room and quickly send a text to my bodyguard.
Me: Mooch, put a tracker on Norah's SUV now.
Mooch: Already on it.
I delete the message just in case Norah happens to pick up my phone.
She rushes back into the room.
"Sorry, I have to handle something for my dad. Can we hang out tomorrow night?"
I stand to my feet and pour the rest of the wine in my glass down my throat, feeling its warmth spread through my body like liquid courage. “This is good stuff.”
We both giggle.
“Yes, of course.” I place the empty glass on the coffee table, gather my things, then pull her into a hug.
“Thanks so much for having me,” I say.
“Natalia, it was truly a pleasure.”
Slowly, I walk to the door, hoping Mooch is back in the SUV. My heart races as he steps out of the shadows and opens the rear passenger door.
“Is it done?” I ask.
He nods.
A smirk hits my lips as I ponder on the situation the Pituccos are in.
“Follow her, but don’t make it obvious,” I tell him.
“Got it.” Mooch says.
My blood boils with rage beneath my skin. These treacherous bastards dare to try to take our throne. I won’t let them succeed.
Mooch follows Norah and her bodyguard to a secluded marina.
Two hours later, I catch sight of another man pulling up in a car and retrieving a lifeless body from the trunk. My heart clenches as I squint, trying to make out the familiar features of warm brown skin. Is that Kinsley? My muscles tense as he climbs aboard a luxurious yacht and tosses the limp body onto the floor. He exchanges words with Norah before retreating to his car, leaving Norah and her bodyguard alone on the yacht.
A surge of nausea fills my throat. What is happening?
Get rid of her, I remember her father saying to Norah. He had ordered her to kill Kinsley.
“Steal a boat and follow them,” I order.
Mooch never asks questions. He does as he’s told.
I check my Glock's magazine before slipping it into my shoulder holster as Mooch maneuvers the small boat out onto the Delaware Bay.
“Get us close, Mooch. We’re going aboard. Don’t kill her bodyguard. Just knock him out. I want to question Norah without any interruptions.”
