Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Cartel
By noon, the rain had cleared, leaving Midtown Manhattan bathed in pale autumn sunlight.
From the third-floor balcony of the townhouse, I watched the traffic moving along 5th Avenue. Down below, discreet security details patrolled the perimeter of Masimo’s property. Two dark sedans were parked at the corners, their engines idling quietly.
Inside, Leo was playing on the plush living room rug with a set of wooden building blocks that Rosa had brought up from the attic. His laugh echoed through the high-ceilinged room—a sweet, pure sound that felt completely foreign in a house preparing for war.
I sat on the sofa, my laptop resting on my knees as I finalized the indexing of the Munich files.
The double doors of the study opened, and Masimo walked into the living room. He had changed into a dark charcoal suit, his coat unbuttoned, his tie loosened at the throat.
He stopped near the rug, looking down at Leo, who was currently attempting to build a tower higher than his own head.
“He looks like you,” Masimo observed softly.
I looked up from my screen. “He has my eyes. But his father was a bastard who ran away the moment the pregnancy test came back positive.”
Masimo’s dark eyes shifted to me. “Then his father was a fool.”
The absolute conviction in his voice made my pulse jump. I looked back down at my computer screen, trying to mask the sudden warmth rising in my neck.
“Carlo just got back from Newark,” Masimo said, walking over to the fireplace and leaning against the mantel. “Warehouse 14 is heavily guarded. Vanessa has thirty men on site, all armed with automatic weapons. They’re preparing the container load for the midnight tide tomorrow.”
“Is she there?” I asked.
“No,” Masimo replied. “Vanessa is staying in her penthouse on Central Park South. She knows her uncle Helmut’s representatives arrived at JFK two hours ago.”
My hands paused over the keyboard. “Helmut sent men already?”
“Two lieutenants,” Masimo said. “They’re staying at the Plaza. They called Vanessa thirty minutes ago demanding a full audit of the Newark shipment before the ship leaves port.”
I let out a slow breath. “She’s running out of time. That’s why she’s desperate to find me. She needs my master passwords to fake the final transfer logs before her uncle’s men inspect the books tonight.”
“Then we give her what she wants,” Masimo said calmly.
I blinked, looking up. “What?”
Masimo pulled a sleek black smartphone from his pocket and set it on the coffee table in front of me.
“Vanessa’s head of security, a man named Viktor, has been pinging every cell tower in Midtown trying to trace your dead-man switch,” Masimo explained. “We let him catch a three-second ping from a location of our choice.”
“A trap,” I said instantly.
“A meeting,” Masimo corrected, his eyes burning with cold anticipation. “We invite Vanessa to meet us on neutral ground. We tell her you’re ready to negotiate the return of her passwords in exchange for lifting the bounty and granting you safe passage out of the country.”
“She won't believe I’d come alone,” I pointed out.
“She knows you won't be alone,” Masimo said softly, walking over to sit beside me on the sofa. His broad shoulder brushed against mine, sending a subtle shiver through my spine. “She knows you sat at my table at the Continental. She knows I’m protecting you. She’ll come expecting to negotiate with me.”
“And while she’s negotiating with you in Manhattan...” I realized, my eyes widening, “your men hit Warehouse 14 in Newark.”
“We take the warehouse, secure the weapons, and seize her physical ledgers,” Masimo murmured, leaning closer until his face was inches from mine. “And when she realizes she’s been outmaneuvered, we hand her directly to her uncle’s lieutenants at the Plaza.”
I looked at him—at the sharp jawline, the dark slate eyes, and the absolute confidence of a man who played chess with human lives and never lost.
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“You’re risking your men and your territory for my plan,” I whispered.
“I’m not doing it for your plan, Alessandra,” Masimo said softly, his fingers reaching out to gently touch the edge of my jaw. “I’m doing it for you.”
