4

GRACE

I stared at the computer screen, smiling. It wasn’t the first time he had written me an email asking me to join his team. I assumed it was a man since all his transaction codes came from profiler Ruthless King.

To: The Ghost

From: Ruthless King

You should take me up on my offer. There are benefits to being on my payroll.

KI chuckled as  I typed  my  reply.

To: Ruthless King

From: The Ghost

No, thank you. I like being my own boss. I expect my f*e to be transferred within 24 hours.

Yes, I’m being generous giving you longer than anyone else.

P.S. I’m

off to  the beach. Don’t  even  think  about  bothering  me for the rest

of the day.

P.P.S. See, the perks

of being  my

own

boss. :-)

I pressed  the  send  button  and  smiled.  It  was  sad  that  most  of  my social  life  consisted  of

talking to my two-year-old son, my best friend, and email correspondence with Ruthless King. That name should have caused me fear, but I found that after what Gabriella and I survived over the last four years, it didn’t. He was a faceless, nameless man that needed extra help laundering money. And that was where Gabriella and I came in.

I stretched my back, careful not to knock the laptop off my lap, and enjoyed the view of the sea that spread for miles and miles in front of me. It took my breath away every single time. Life was finally good. We have found the perfect little island with the population of less than four thousand people to settle in. The island fell under the region of Sicily but still had its own authenticity. Sicily was too big for us; this was perfect.

I had the people that were most important to me in my life, my son and Gabriella. She has been my best friend since boarding school. She was the sister I never had. After we escaped, the nightmare still wasn’t over for us. Taking the first flight out of the U.S., we lived on the run, constantly looking over our shoulders. We misjudged how long the money would last us. Within three months, we were broke, hungry and without a roof over our heads.

But we survived it all, and we were stronger now. We had our little routine going and the past seemed irrelevant. As if it happened to someone else, not me. Not us!

The day was beautiful. Every day was beautiful here. We’ve seen a lot over the last few years traveling, but Favignana in Sicily easily became my top favorite town. I could understand now why my husband’s father, Matteo Vitale, spoke about it so fondly. It truly was a little slice of heaven on this earth. Life was just different here - the slower-paced mentality and mild climate made it an appealing spot to settle in permanently. And ironically, it made me feel at home. Just like Matteo Vitale said it would.

We moved here nine months ago, after spending over two years constantly moving. This place lingered in the back of my mind from the moment we went on the run. Didn’t experts always say that hiding something in plain sight was most efficient? Besides, in some weird way the area that used to be home to Matteo Vitale and his young wife felt like an invisible cloak of protection.

So we found ourselves here, and I could see myself staying here forever. Except that I sucked at Italian. Matteo, my son, on the other hand, was soaking it up.

“Ella, are you ready?” I called out to my best friend, sticking to her nickname. She and my son, Matteo, were packing up toys like we were moving to the beach, not just walking less than hundred yards to it.

“Yes, grabbing the sunscreen and putting on a bathing suit. Then I’m all ready.” “You are not even in a bathing suit?” I asked in a groan.

I went to shut my laptop down when my email pinged. Throwing a quick glance, I smiled. I knew he couldn’t resist.

To: The Ghost

From: Ruthless King

I’d let you go to the beach. Once in a while. I’m a great boss like that.

KI chuckled  again. At least he  was  being  honest.

To: Ruthless King

From: The Ghost

But I’m a better boss because I’d let myself go to the beach every day. You’re not that

great at selling yourself.

Nice doing business with you. Till our next transaction.

Clicking the send button, I waited for the email to leave my outbox and shut the laptop

right after. I strode to the little play area where Matteo kept trying to throw another toy into the bag. “Who’s ready for the beach?” I asked excitedly.

His green eyes raised up to me and a big smile spread on his face. “Io. Io.” Me. Me. Matteo was answering more in Italian than English. He raised his chubby hands to me to lift him up, and I laughed out loud.

“You are a little boss man, you know that?”

He grinned, little giggles escaping him as he twirled around. Ella swept into the room with a wide smile. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s go then.”

Our villa was small but the most charming place I had ever lived. I loved everything about our life here. People were friendly and kind, food was amazing, and it felt like the three of us belonged. I never wanted to leave.

It took us exactly five minutes to get to the beach, and that was with interruptions of running into familiar faces along the way and chatting.

“God, I love that the beaches are empty now,” I murmured as I laid out our beach towels. “Tourist season is finally over.”

It was the second week in September and all of Europe got back to their normal work lives and offices. Ella and I didn’t have normal work lives. Our biggest disadvantage when we came to Europe was our lack of language skills. Neither one of us could speak any other language besides English. Second disadvantage was that neither one of us had a useful skill. I studied music, she studied art. Third disadvantage was that I was pregnant.

So our choices were limited. But there were a few things I picked up during my marriage and while under my grandmother’s and uncle’s roof. My grandmother wanted me to be a perfect belle to a mobster one day. Just not to the mobster I ended up marrying. The ruthless Luciano Vitale.

After all, my grandmother and uncle told me on numerous occasions that all good mob wives should know three things - how to back her man, how to keep her mouth shut, and how to help the family when needed. Except nobody expected me to get a backbone and use those skills for myself. It helped Ella and me when needed. We refused to be used anymore. Both Ella and I had established new identities and changed our appearances just enough that if we ever ran into someone we knew, they wouldn’t recognize us.

Then we turned to not so legal business. Money laundering through several Bahama shell companies and Swiss accounts.

Ella dated a boy for a bit that was heavy into IT and firewalls. It turned out, she was really good at it. So we put it to good use.

She ensured our firewalls and messages were encrypted and untraceable. By the time anyone got any message from us, it went through at least ten IP addresses and locations. Our firewalls were thick. I, on the other hand, handled the transactions through shell companies in the Bahamas and Swiss accounts, along with all the customer correspondence.

I wasn’t exactly proud of it, but it kept us fed and off the streets. I shuddered remembering those first six months. We almost ended up living on the streets. Some nights when sleep wouldn’t come, I laid awake haunted by that gnawing hunger and fear. I was scared we’d never make it to our next birthday and my baby would die before even taking his first breath. We did what was necessary to survive.

Shoving the dark memories away, I focused on this beautiful day, my son, and my best friend. We were healthy, had a roof over our heads and food on our table. That was all that mattered. I would never again depend on anyone. Ella and I took only a limited number of transactions per month. We learned to be selective. We’d laundered for certain clients that didn’t deal in the type of businesses that we wouldn’t condone. Truthfully, they were all business we didn’t condone, but we tried to choose the lesser of the evils.

Any business that dealt in human trafficking, we stayed clear of. Same with any type of businesses that sold sexual services. It pretty much left us with drug and gun smugglers. Thanks to Ella’s IT skills, she was able to use the dark web to validate businesses our clients dealt in. In most cases, she was able to get the identities of our clients. Ruthless King was an exception however, we connected

with a few other runners and his credentials seemed to hold true. He was against human trafficking and was known to turn away the business of laundering money for those like the Kings and the Romano family. Everything we checked on him panned out - he didn’t deal with any criminals that touched that type of business.

I connected with Ruthless King fifteen months ago and had dealt almost exclusively with him over the last six months. He kept it short, clean, and to the point. Plus, he paid the most commission, so it was good all the way around.

“We are living the life,” Ella agreed, turning over onto her stomach and promptly drifting off to sleep. That girl lived for sunbathing.

Yes, life is good now. Even if the business was to go away, we were financially set for several years before we’d run out of money. If we could keep this going for another three years, we could stop doing it and just live the rest of our lives doing little jobs here and there. We’d still be set, and Matteo would never go hungry.

“Matteo, come here so Mommy can put sunblock on you,” I called out to my son.

He abandoned his little sand digging and walked over with a big grin. His hazel eyes watched me with love and trust while his dark hair ruffled under the light breeze. God, how he reminded me of his father.

The familiar dull pain throbbed in my chest, but it was gone quickly. I had worked hard to forget the pain and loss of his father. My son was a reminder, but in a good way. I liked to think of my husband as he could have been if he wasn’t corrupted by all the events in his life.

I squeezed the lotion into my hands and applied it over his exposed skin. Matteo had a year-round tan, just like his father. But I was paranoid and used lots of sunscreen. If I could, I’d put Matteo into a secure bubble, but I knew it would fail. My parents tried that with me, and it didn’t work out. They only succeeded in making me weak. I wouldn’t repeat that with my own son. Instead, I’d make him strong. He could be good and still take no shit from anyone. I wouldn’t let my son grow up to be gullible or defenseless like I was.

“Okay, you are all set,” I told him, placing a smooch on his cheek. He immediately giggled. “Want help building your sand hole?”

“Sì,” he replied in Italian.

“Okay, my little Italian man. Let’s go build.”

He handed me his extra sand shovel and we both got to work. He babbled all along, half in English and half in Italian. Most of it, I couldn’t understand. It didn’t help that he babbled Italian in baby talk. I’ve been trying to learn Italian to keep up with Matteo, but I was failing miserably. Or Matteo learned at a much faster pace than me. Still, I didn’t let any of it deter me.

“You know the waves are going to crash into our masterpiece in the next half hour.” I followed his gaze to the sea, watching him frown. “But the good news is that we can come back tomorrow and do it all over again.”

He grinned and my heart melted for my little guy. “What should we do for dinner, huh?” I asked him. “Pizza.”

“Oh, I think that is a marvelous idea,” I agreed. “ Should we go to Zio Juno or Neptuno?” “Juno, Mamma.”

I smiled. I knew Juno would be his answer. They had a little girl Matteo’s age that always came out to play with him each time we ate there.

“I agree. Okay, Juno it is. We’ll tell Aunt Ella when she wakes up.”

I glanced at Ella. She still laid in the exact same position. “Woman, you are going to burn like a crab,” I shouted to her laughing.

She stirred and got up. Her beach tan and blonde hair made her look gorgeous. Like a real beach babe. I wished I could tan as beautiful as her. I constantly applied sunscreen to prevent sunburn. My natural ginger red hair combined with my fair skin made it hard to get a decent tan. Although I colored my hair brown, it didn’t take away from my fair skin tone. When we first arrived in Italy, I was so envious of everyone’s tan. But I quickly got over it. It wasn’t as if I could do anything about it.

“I’m hungry,” she announced.

“Ah, yes. Matteo and I decided we would go to Zio Juno. It is pizza day. What do you think?” She immediately grinned. “That’s a great idea.”