The Morretti Brothers Book 2

“What are you doing?” Anastasia’s roommate, Lucy, asks as she surveys the lounge room. She knows exactly what Anna is doing. She has seen this many times. Lucy wants me to say it.

“Nothing…”

“Annie, are the CIA going to be looking for you again?” Random question? No, not really. Anna is used to it. See, she is a hacker. A great hacker. Lucy took one look at the setup in front of her and freaked out.

“I’m being careful,” Anna says, going back to smashing her fingers along the keyboard. She needs to be quick, in and out.

“Who is the guy?” Lucy looks at the photo in the corner of Anna’s screen.

“That’s what I’m finding out,” she answers, continuing her search.

“So you are taking photos of randoms now?”

“I didn’t take the photo.” Anna arrived home around thirty minutes ago. She did a restore on the phone, hoping to find something more. Anna has deduced that the phone is a burner. It explains “M’s” weird string of questions. She is assuming “M” is the big boss, the guy in charge, the guy who organizes the phone. If that is the case, she has some advice for him because a smartphone is a poor choice for a burner, especially if you are some sort of criminal, but there she goes again, making assumptions.

“Who took the photo then?”

“The phone. A smartphone’s camera takes footage throughout the day. It saves it, just nowhere you can find it.”

“Seriously?” Lucy squeaks, covering her own phone camera with her hand. “Is that why you have that outdated phone?” She points at Anna’s brick sitting on the table.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an IT nerd. I love technology, so I have pretty much anything I can get my hands on, but for personal calls, I prefer a phone no one can hack.

Anna shrugs her shoulders, ignoring Lucy’s question.

The computer pings, and Anna knows she has a match. Covering her tracks, she closes her way out of the CIA’s facial recognition database. Once she is done, she opens the information. The photo matches one Marcello Morretti. There were several photos on the phone, but she searched for one with something incriminating. The phone user is clearly on the phone from the way his hand is holding partly over the camera, but the man next to him is holding a gun. The man with the gun, Anna now knows, is Mr. Morretti.

“Why does Morretti sound familiar?” Anna asks Lucy.

“Morretti is the Italian Mob family. They own Sparrow Industries,” she answers, leaving Anna to her computers. The Mob! Oh my god!

The burner phone buzzes on the table.

With a burst of courage, Anastasia attaches the photo she found on the burner and clicks send.

Nothing happens, no reply text, and Anna sits there frozen, watching the phone. Suddenly, the phone buzzes again, although this time it doesn’t stop as it is a call. He is calling me. Marcello Morretti, mob boss, is calling me!

“Oh my god!” Anna yells.

“What?” Lucy runs back into the lounge room.

“I found this phone at the cafe; it was lost. I text the only contact, and now that contact is Marcello, and he is calling me, and oh my god, he could kill me, and he is cute, right? That picture is cute. Oh my god. Oh my g—”

“Anastasia! Take a breath and shut up.” The phone stops, and the two girls let out a sigh. “I’m going to take a shower. Are you right?”

“Yep,” Anna whispers, her eyes still glued to the phone.

The phone buzzes again, and Anna stares at it for a few moments before pressing it to her ear. She says nothing, and the person on the other end sighs.

“When one answers the phone, it is customary that they greet the other person.” Marcello’s voice is smooth and sophisticated.

“Good evening, Mr. Morretti.”

“Better, but Marcello is fine, Miss…”

“Let’s stick with Red.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Should I?”

“Probably not.”

“Then no, I don’t trust you.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“You are joking, right?”

“No. That way, you can return the phone.”

“How about I follow the original plan and leave the phone at the Coffee Bean to collect?”

“No.”

“I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I said ‘have dinner with me.’ It wasn’t a question.”

“Are you used to people following your every word?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“A car will collect you at eight. That gives you thirty minutes.”

“I’m not having dinner with you.”

“See you soon, Red.” Marcello chuckles before he disconnects the call.

“Oh my god!”