The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

"That's a long way," my father said, shaking his head. "Especially in this heat."

"We've seen it, though," Leandro added. "More than we would like to say. That one time," he added, looking pale. "With the children—"

"When was this?" I asked, stomach turning.

"Probably when you were sixteen or seventeen," my father supplied. "I'll never forget that either. Someone heard crying. We called the customs guys over. Opened the container. And there they were. A dozen little kids bound and gagged, barely alive. Two of them didn't make it even after getting treatment. They came in from El Salvador. Took a long time to track those bastards down and handle it. If this girl is right, and someone is using our ports for this sort of thing again, there won't be any mercy. We made it clear then, and we will make it clear now, that we don't stand for that shit here."

"Alright," I agreed, nodding toward Angelo. "We're going to need videos from all the companies picking up containers that came in from Venezuela for the past few months."

"On it," he agreed, nodding, moving off.

"What do you want from the rest of us?" Lucky asked, looking at my father.

"See who might be in the trafficking business. Here and there. And look into this woman," he added, glancing at Dario. "And you," he went on, looking at me, "We're going to need to keep an eye on her," he said, tone clear.

He wanted me to keep an eye on her.

And not just checking in at her hotel now and again.

He wanted eyes on her full-time.

To that, Lucky chuckled. "Can I be there when you tell her that she's going to be a prisoner indefinitely?" he asked, smirking at me through a cloud of smoke. "Might make that nose of yours crooked."

"Take her back to the rental," my father decided. "Though give her a bed this time. Call in some of the guys to guard, but, for now, this is between us. We don't want any loose lips with Lorenzo visiting soon."

I should have been frustrated w

ith the job given to me. I should have been chomping at the bit to get into the field, to throw my weight around.

But all I felt was relief and anticipation.

My father threw out more orders, but I scarcely heard a word, inwardly making a list of shit we would need at the house if we were going to be there for any length of time. Bedding, plates, food. All the essentials.

She had been staying in a shitty hotel, so it wasn't like she was expecting the Ritz, but I couldn't deny her the basic shit she'd need to get through a couple days, a week. I couldn't imagine this going on any longer than that.

"Alright. I am going back to bed," my father said, nodding at all of us. "You all have your jobs. Keep me posted as you learn anything."

"Will do, Unc," Lucky agreed, crushing out his cigarette.

With that, everyone with orders set out to work on them, leaving me waiting for the men and Romy to come back.

About forty minutes later, they did, a defeated looking Romy flanked with my men.

"Where'd everyone go?"

"To work on this issue," I told her.

"Oh, well, that's good, I guess. Right?" she asked, eyes looking puffy, tired, making me remember that while I had stolen a few hours in one of the bedrooms, she'd likely been pacing the basement, trying to figure out a way to escape, trying to calm her anxiety.

"We are going to work to find your sister. If she is in one of those containers like you've been told."

"No, you're looking to punish whoever dared to disobey you. Don't try to make yourself sound more moral than you are."

"You're not going to like the next part of this."

Her arms folded over her chest. "You can't stick me back in the basement just because they weren't here tonight. I told you I didn't have an exact date."

"You're not going back in the basement. But you are going back to the house."