Page 69 of His Enemy's Daughter
“You’re incredible,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I hand over all our evidence, make a deal with federal authorities, and your first instinct is to reject their protection plan in favor of your own.”
“Our own,” he corrects, pulling me close again. “Our cabin. Our security. Our backup plans. I’ve survived this long by trusting myself, not government officials who can be bought or threatened.”
I take his hand and squeeze. “I trust you.”
21
Mauricio
“I need you to burn his entire world to ash.”
I pace the cabin’s living room with my phone pressed to my ear, watching dawn paint the mountains gold while I coordinate the destruction of a man who’s had it coming for twenty-eight years. On the other end, David Kalinin’s rough laugh carries the weight of old debts and older friendships.
“Mauricio Barone calls in his favor after all these years,” David says in heavily accented English. “I wondered when you would. What unfortunate soul has earned your attention?”
“Sabino Picarelli. Eastern territories. Controls shipping routes through three major ports.” I tick off details with the precisionof someone who’s spent months studying his enemy. “I need his international connections severed. Every supply line disrupted. Every shipment intercepted or delayed. Make him radioactive to do business with.”
“The man who murdered his partners and stole their child?” David’s voice turns cold with recognition. “Da. Yes. This one deserves worse than business problems. This one deserves to watch everything he built crumble while he still breathes to see it.”
“Exactly. He’s also the reason I went to prison.” I glance toward the bedroom where Regina sleeps, exhausted from yesterday’s meeting with Borghese. “How long do you need?”
“For complete disruption? Forty-eight hours. My people already operate in those territories—they just need new instructions.” Papers rustle on his end. “But Mauricio, you understand this kind of pressure makes dangerous men do desperate things?”
“I’m counting on it.” Because a desperate Sabino is a sloppy Sabino, and sloppy men make mistakes I can exploit. “Call me when the first shipment gets seized.”
I disconnect and immediately dial Tiziano, who answers on the first ring, as if he’s been waiting for my call. Knowing him, he probably has been.
“Tell me you’re not calling to cancel our plans,” he says by way of greeting. “Simeone’s been insufferable waiting for you to give the word.”
“The word is given.” I move to the window, scanning the tree line with the paranoia that’s kept me alive this long. “Start applying territorial pressure. Nothing overt—just make it clear that Sabino’s buffer zones are now contested territory. Force him to split his resources defending borders while his international operations collapse.”
“Music to my ears.” Tiziano’s satisfaction bleeds through the phone. “Simeone wants to know if you need additional security for Regina. He’s offered to send—”
“Tell him I appreciate it, but we’re covered.” David’s best men are already positioned around the property, invisible but present. “I need Simeone focused on the territorial play, not worrying about babysitting duty.”
“He worries because he cares, Mauricio. And because he knows what you sacrificed—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “We’re not doing the guilt tour this morning. Just execute the plan.”
I end the call before Tiziano can push, because talking about sacrifice requires examining choices I’d make again in a heartbeat. Fifteen years in prison bought Simeone the time to build his empire, and now that empire becomes the hammer we use to destroy Sabino.
Poetic justice tastes better than I imagined.
My phone buzzes with a text from Borghese:
First three arrests made. Lower-level money laundering operations. Picarelli will hear about it within the hour.
I stare at the message for a long moment before responding. Borghese is good at her job—competent, driven, methodical in building her case. But she’s also federal law enforcement, which means she operates within systems that can be compromised, manipulated, bought. I’ve seen too many “airtight” cases fall apart because someone got paid off or evidence mysteriously disappeared.
Regina and I handed her the ledgers, the financial records, the documentation that could put Sabino away for life. And maybe Borghese will succeed. Maybe her eight years of preparation will result in handcuffs and a conviction that sticks.
But I didn’t survive fifteen years in prison by trusting maybe.
I fire back:
Keep climbing the ladder. I need him scared but not panicked yet.
What I don’t tell her is that while she builds her legal case, I’m constructing something more permanent. Something that doesn’t rely on judges who can be bribed or juries who can be threatened. Borghese gets to play hero with her federal prosecutors and tactical teams. I get to ensure that even if her case falls apart, Sabino Picarelli still ends up exactly where he deserves.
