Sanna

"We have one play left," said Mantovani standing up, face set in determination.

"The daughter of the sheriff--where is she?, Ryan told us. We steal her, take her as a blackmail to get him to withdraw the leaks, cancel the feds. It is filthy, but the only one that will buy time. It is dangerous, "Sanna said slowly.

"To snatch a civilian daytime without even the intelligence agencies keeping a watch on you...." but he grew hard of eyes, "But we have too much lost. In and out we do this clean, no harm to the girl."

I could feel the burden of it, the ethical boundary we were going to break, yet the emotion of saving our family- of keeping Dad safe, Mom out of prison, Mantovani out of a life sentence, all this and more was too strong. "I'm going," I said, voice firm. Too dangerous," Mantovani flicked his head around to look at me. I had moved in on him, hands on his chest, eyes up his green ones that I adored, "You do not get to make this decision, and make it on your own. I am not sitting in a safe house as you put everything on the line. We do so collectively, as usual.

He scanned my face, his mind at war, and then sighed, and drew me to him in a passionate kiss, mouth consuming and insane with fear and desire and the edge of immortality, his hands moving my face as though he were committing it to memory. As he drew back he whispered, forehead against mine, Together. Always." Mom was watching us, crying, but with a little and proud smile on her lips and Dad stood, and said, "You are going, I am coming too, remember it. I do not know your world, but I know how to keep my head down.

The scheme was made with haste--night raid on the sheriff daughter boarding school in up state New York, in and out before daylight, taking advantage of the turmoil of the leak, and letting our forces go to work when the law force were still gagging. Like ghosts we passed the night, black SUVs driving quietly into the school yard, Mantovani being the first to arrive, me right next to him since he would not allow me out of his sight. Halls were silent, students were asleep, and we crept quietly into the girl in her dorm room like shadows and saw her sitting on her bed reading a book with her eyes open wide at the sight of us.

She was a young one--sixteen, perhaps, dark, frightened but not screaming, and there was something about her face which reminded me of myself when I was of the same age, and in between worlds. What we mean is not to hurt you, said Mantovani. Your father stole something of us; we are taking you until he pays it back. Nodding her head, wept in her eyes, "He always is angry. I knew this day would come." It was a witnessing to the pain of being a child in the war of an adult, which in me was set to the tune of the resignation,--but we had no choice.

We managed to get her out clean, tied down in the SUV, no shots, no alarms and drove to another safe place an abandoned farmhouse two hours north. She sat down between me and Mantovani, with the hands tied slack, and I spoke to her very gently, attempting to soothe the fright, and knew that her name was Isabella, that she detested the job her father did, and yet loved him, the confusion of humanity to which the entire situation was a sore burden. Back at the farmhouse, we had watch shifts, behind an locked door with food and books, no harm to her, and the sheriff was called by Mantovani on a burner phone, voice cold, "We have your daughter. Summary the leaks, cancel the warrants, or she is gone for good.

The voice of the sheriff was heard, hard and angry, "You touch her, and I see that all d'Agostino goes to supermax. Twenty-four hours, Mantovani did not even blink. Make it happen." He put up the phone, turned to me, and drew me into his arms, and kissed me deeply, desperately, because the world would have ended tomorrow, and he was whispering to me, but something might have been the case, I have promised you a life after.

But when we sat down to wait the long wait Conti burst through the room, and was pale, and holding up his phone, breaking news alert--federal raid of our remaining New York properties, the agents swarming, and, in the background shots, Dad in his safe house being surrounded, lights flashing, the sheriff-play setting in at the very moment we were holding his daughter.