I had no clue who to expect when she knocked. I just answered the door, figuring it was room service or something else Ethan had ordered.
Instead, there was Louisa Barone, looking gorgeous in a simple outfit of white sneakers, shorts, and a white t-shirt.
“Louisa,” I said, surprised.
“Wyatt.” She walked in and I shut the door behind her.
“This is a surprise.”
“I want to show you something.”
“Okay,” I said. “Want a drink?”
“No. We need to get going.”
“Going to show me another bombed-out building?”
“No. I’m going to show you where I live.”
That surprised me. “Your safe house?”
“Yes.”
“That’s some serious trust.”
“I’m in this, Wyatt,” she said, stepping toward me. “What do you want after we’re finished with my father?”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not sure.”
“How does Major of Chicago sound?”
I arched an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty good.”
“And after that, Governor of Illinois. And after that? Who knows?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“I can give you Chicago, at the very least.”
“That’s over a year away.”
“Which means we have plenty of time to take out my father and anyone else that stands in our way.”
I couldn’t help but grin and shake my head. The girl was so damn confident, I couldn’t resist her charm.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
She nodded and headed out. I followed her, keeping up. We rode the elevator downstairs and got into a car driven by another attractive woman. As soon as the doors shut, Louisa turned to me. “Wyatt, this is Kasia.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
She nodded, but didn’t answer.
“Kasia is my second. She doesn’t like that we’re bringing you to our safe house.”
“I can understand that,” I said.
“No,” she said simply. “You can’t.”
Louisa gave her a look. “But Kasia trusts me, and is doing as I ask.”
Kasia didn’t answer.
I just smiled and said nothing, knowing better than to get in the middle of an argument.
We drove in strained silence. I could tell Louisa wasn’t happy with Kasia, and vice versa, but that didn’t matter to me. I was far too fascinated to say anything.
We headed into the heart of the city. I had expected them to take me into the suburbs, but clearly we weren’t headed that way. Instead, we were going right into the center of the Barone power structure.
They were hiding right under Arturo’s nose. I had to admit that I loved it, loved the audacity. Louisa probably knew how her father operated better than anyone, and if she thought this was safe, well then it probably was.
Still, I wouldn’t have put my safe house right where Barone was the strongest. We stopped on a boring block in a mediocre neighborhood. Louisa got out and Kasia went to park.
“Here we are,” Louisa said.
“You seriously live here?”
“I seriously live here.” She walked up the stood of a boring-looking row home. She unlocked the door and we stepped inside.
It was just like any other row home I’d ever seen. Living room, kitchen, second floor. There was nobody around, no girls laying, no guns or weapons or bombs. I had expected a bunch of grizzled veterans sitting around drinking beer and smoking, waiting for their time to die, but instead it looked like a regular home.
“This is nice,” I said.
She grinned at me. “Not what you expected?”
“No, not at all.”
“But wait. There’s more.”
We walked upstairs. It looked like any other row home to me, with one big exception: there was an elevator door at the end of the hall.
We walked over toward it. “This is interesting,” I said.
“It gets better.” She hit the call button. “I live down there,” she said, gesturing down at the bedrooms. “Kasia lives there.” She pointed at the closet room. “And the other girls...“
The elevator doors dinged open. We stepped inside. They shut and we descended. I noticed that there were four floors’ worth of buttons.
We stopped at the second floor. It felt like we had gone down, but I was thoroughly confused. The doors slowly slid open.
We stepped out into what I could only describe as a military barracks. There were cots all over the place, with stuff lining the walls. Guns and ammunition were placed carefully in rows, and there were other doors leading to other rooms. Girls were lying around, chatting in small groups. At least one was cleaning a rifle with a mean look on her face.