I cocked the gun and held it, ready to fire at the first sign of movement. I peered around the wall that half separated the large space into two rooms. On this side of the wall were boxes and on the opposite side were wooden crates; crates and boxes that inevitably held some type of drugs. I was currently breaking and entering into the largest crime-family in New York’s warehouse; one of their many warehouses. This warehouse was, however, was first owned by my brother.
My brother is currently, to me, missing. I last saw him in Paris six months ago. I have been trying to track him down since I was sixteen and, long story short, he likes running away from me.
I moved around to the crates silently: searching every inch of the warehouse for any evidence to why my brother was here or where he was going. There is a small room that branches of into the direct back of the warehouse; my guess is that it is the office. I slowly and silently made my way to the room watching everything around me.
In the room was a small desk with an office chair and a gun safe. The desk had a few papers scattered on it, mostly paperwork about shipments. I pulled out a drawer to find a stack of paper and office supplies. Another drawer offered a nine-millimeter and the last was empty aside from a newspaper dated two months ago. The article read:

Another Murder:
….Emergency personal responded to a domestic violence call late last night around Eleven-fifty… what was found was the body of twenty-two year old Jessica Grey…….Seems to be the work of a professional killer as this marks the third victim.

The article said the girls were all bound with rope and positioned into strange positions. There was no indication to any type of sexual assault. That sounded like him.
I let out an inaudible gasp as I saw a shadow move across the door. I crouched down and held my gun at the ready. I saw the long shadow cross against the opposite wall: the person turned around. He was by my best guess now facing the direction of the office. I held my breath as the person took two steps forward and a step to the left to position him directly in front of the door. I tried to look around the small the crack in the door and saw a tall man wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He was going to come in. I moved around to the side of the desk so that he wouldn’t see me as he first walked in.
He walked in and paused. His hand was ready to grab at his gun which was probably under his jacket. He was wearing a black tee shirt and boots along with his jeans and jacket. He was sandy-blonde and blue-eyed, well muscled and tanned. All around he was pretty cute but he appeared to be about thirty-five and that is just too old for me. He glanced around the room quickly and turned back toward the door. Then I had an idea; while his back was turned I stood up and held my gun out like cops do on tv shows. I cleared me throat loudly and the man spun around quickly grabbing for his gun.
“Don’t even try it.” I said quickly and he paused taking in my appearance.
“And who are you?” He asked as if I was no threat even though my gun was very clear.
“Who are you?” I asked as if I hadn’t heard him.
“I asked first,” he protested. He has guts not many people would protest when a gun is being pointed at them.
“I’m holding the choice of your life in only one finger and I will not hesitate to pull that trigger. Who are you?” Forceful I know but it shook him. He stumbled backwards a little but quickly steadied himself. Afraid that one movement would force me to pull the trigger.
“Jason. I work for the Ortega Organization. My boss owns this warehouse. Now who are you?” I stared at him for a long minute considering what he said. The Ortega’s are the largest crime family in New York and the most feared; anyone who works for them are considered legally invincible. In other words anyone connected t the Ortega’s can walk around and do anything they want and never are touched by the justice system. And it goes without saying they aren’t easily intimidated by simple looking nineteen year old girls.
“Jayden. I work for myself and am currently trespassing in your boss’s property. I would like to meet your boss. Mr. Ortega. And don’t give me the whole ‘I can’t do that’ runaround or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Jason was silent, carefully analyzing his situation. Call his boss and live or say no and die. And my guess is he doesn’t like being intimidated by a girl.
“Mr. Ortega won’t be happy.” He said pulling a cell phone slowly from his jacket pocket. I was silent. “Okay, the meeting is set. Come with me.”
I lowered my gun but kept it in my hand. “Give me your gun.” I said in a low voice. He stared at me for a long moment but handed over his nine-millimeter. I unloaded the clip and handed the gun back to him. I shoved the clip in my pocket. “Let’s go.” I said with a cocky smile. Jason turned slowly and walked towards the door. I followed him watching every movement he made.

I sat in the passenger side of a sleek black Aston Martin, nice car.
“So what exactly do you want with the Ortega’s?” Jason surprised me by speaking but especially for speaking in a tone of nonchalance.
“Just trying to find someone and I think that they can help.” I said starring at the New York back roads out the window.
“They will kill you. You know that right?” He glanced at me almost like he was trying to talk sense into me.
I looked at him with pursed lips. “They can try.” I said, not with sarcasm or arrogance but with shyness.
“Are you just trying to get yourself killed?” He asked
“I’m trying to find someone. And I know that Sonny won’t kill me.” I smiled half-heartedly at him.
“Who are you trying to find? And how do you know?”
“My brother.” I said obviously ignoring the latter part of the question.
Jason considered asking again but asked another question instead. “Is he missing, as in kidnapped or just running away?”
“Running away. Has been for years, I really wish he’d at least email me.” I giggled to myself. Serial killers hardly email there little sisters.
“What is his name?” Jason asked simply.
I did not want to answer this question but I assume the few people in Auburn, New York that know that I am here will eventually find out. “James.” I said hoping that was enough that he wouldn’t ask for our last name.
Jason was quiet for a long moment. He glanced at me a couple times then asked, “So, why do you think Sonny Ortega is beyond murdering you?” Jason smiled a cocky grin.
I smiled a little to, “Because I’m his god-daughter.” Jason paled. Jason was quiet for a long moment.
“I didn’t know he had a god-daughter.” He said in a tone of utter shock.
I inhaled a deep breath and let it all out in one breath. “My parents knew him while in school and my father and him were partners. I didn’t meet him for the first time until I was five. He was asked to be my god-father and accepted then. I visited twice more after that. Including the time my parents were murdered when I was twelve.”
Jason tightened his grip on the steering wheel and stared squarely at the road. “So how long has it been since he’s seen you?” He asked carefully. I considered the question. If I told him I would also be telling him how old I was and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know but Sonny would know so in the long run Jason would soon find out.
“Seven years. I’m nineteen.” I said looking straight out the window to see a huge mansion in front of me. The mansion was four stories high; the top floor was made of floor to ceiling windows while the bottom three was made of old-timey stone and reinforced doors and bulletproof windows. There was a gated backyard that probably housed a pool and tennis court. The drive way long and windy, easy to make sure no one snuck up on you and there were no back entrances only forestry. Jason parked the Aston Martin in the five car garage just to the left of the house in which I saw a gun case.