Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“We need a mole,” Diego sighs once we’ve back in the conference room.
“But where the fuck do we find one?” I huff, throwing a ball of paper in the air and catching it. We’ve been sitting here going over the case with two other agents.
“What about the kids?” Diego grabs a file from the middle of the table and slides it over, opening it up to one of the Moretti family trees we’ve put together. The youngest members of the family are seven and nine, and off limits in my book. They wouldn’t be able to give us anything more than hearsay anyway, and I would fucking hope the kids are clueless to what their parents actually do.
“No way, man. They couldn’t help us even if they wanted to.”
“Not them, idiot.” He flips to another page. “The cousins.”
I tip my head, thinking. I’ve considered it before, but have come to the same conclusion. Enzo and Aldo Moretti’s father, Trevor, married into the Moretti family. He kept his last name but his two sons have their mother’s. They flew under the radar for a while, seeming like they didn’t have close enough ties to the rest of the family to handle business, so to say.
“Enzo has been seen in a lot of clubs the last few months,” Diego goes on. “This is his older cousin, Bianca.”
“Did we get confirmation on that?” I ask. Bianca Moretti is barely five feet tall, with a babydoll face and big, innocent eyes. Looking at her, you’d have no idea she’s as ruthless as she is, but my money is on her to take over the family business.
“Yep.” He picks up his phone and opens up Instagram, going to Bianca’s profile. She’s got a ton of followers, showcasing her wealth and possessions. She’s leaned into the rumors that her family is not so innocent, only driving interest to her. Both my sister and sisters-in-law find her fascinating, and I’m pretty sure one of my sisters-in-law wrote a mafia book roughly inspired by the Moretti family.
Taking his phone, I roll through Bianca’s posts. She’s dangling meat before rabid dogs, knowing full well that we have nothing on them. The confidence is both irritating and encouraging, because that’s where people usually mess up. They get over confident and then sloppy.
“There he is,” I muse, looking at Enzo Moretti. He’s short and pudgy, with a receding hairline peppered with gray. Though he’s dressed well, he didn’t get the good looks the rest of the family seemed to inherit—or had surgically enhanced. Still, he’s smiling smugly at the camera. I cannot fucking wait for the day I put him handcuffs. “We need more to go on before they’ll assign a case to him.”
“I know,” Diego huffs as I hand him back his phone. “Though I have a good feeling if we…” He raises his eyebrows and I nod. Because I agree. The only way we’re going to get anything worthwhile is to tail the guy a bit and then come back at it the appropriate way—which we will. Whatever evidence we get has to be able to hold up in court or the whole thing will be a moot point.
“Let’s do it,” I say with a nod. This is my white whale, the case I won’t stop until it’s solved. And stopping the Moretti family would be the biggest achievement of my career, not to mention it would end the trafficking the family is responsible for. “Tonight, let’s follow Enzo Moretti.”
Chapter
Three
MIRA
He’s definitely cheating on her.
Like without a shadow of a doubt, this man is banging any chick he can, left and right, and is sitting here in front of me, telling his girlfriend that he loves her and wants to be with her and her alone.
“You gotta think how it makes me feel,” he says, bringing a hand to his chest. As a therapist, I sit here and nod, taking it all in. As a woman, I want to gag and throw whatever the closest object is to me at his fucking face. I lean back, rolling my head side to side and take in a slow breath. This is my last session of the day, and I am more than ready to be done.
I’ve been going nonstop all day and went right home from the barn to shower, get dressed, and filmed a few videos for my social media. A year after I filed for divorce and left my own hell, I started recording my little “things I wished my own therapist told me” series on Instagram and TikTok. The series blew up and while I don’t have a million followers like Kat, I have a decent enough of a following that I profit off my channels, and more importantly, I get advice and wisdom out there for other women to see.