by Lisa Daniels
The men exchanged a quick look and Angela sensed there was more to the story.
Agent Duggan cleared his throat.
“Angela, your cousin, Val,” he said softly. “Do you remember her?”
Crimson stained her cheeks.
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I remember her. I had just graduated from the academy when she died.”
Terry glanced at his folded hands.
“Angela, Val was working undercover for us when she went missing. Her UC name was Mara and she stayed under for two years. Everything was going really well. We had no reason to suspect anything was wrong and then one day she just vanished. No one ever knew for certain what happened to her. Over the past three years, we have sent in other operatives, talked to CIs and spoken to members of the family, but it’s as if she’s disappeared into thin air. We declared her dead officially, to give your family closure, and she more than likely is. We theorize that she was discovered as an agent and murdered, her body sent out to sea, but…”
Angela’s heart froze.
“You told us she was dead,” she choked. “You led us to believe she died in a shoot-out! You lost all the agents on your team in that sting!”
Duggan nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We couldn’t compromise our investigation by telling you the truth. In reality, she disappeared the night of that operation and no one knows where she went or what happened.”
Angela shook her head, trying to make sense of what she had learned.
“They are going to be suspicious of a girl asking about a former agent. You don’t know if her cover was blown or—”
“We don’t know anything, but other agents have gone in successfully,” Duggan interjected.
“You sent in other operatives and they made it out alive?” she asked suddenly, her head whipping up to stare at Duggan.
He nodded.
“No one else was discovered or harmed in any way since. Which also made us wonder if we were wrong about what happened to Val. Our operatives weren’t met with any more suspicion than usual.”
Angela thought of her Aunt Stella, still mourning the loss of her only child, and her gut twisted with agony.
“Angela, I know you’re reluctant and I get that this is dangerous, but I think you also know why we have chosen you specifically for this job. You and Val were very close and I can see the resemblance between you even as I stand here. I think the family will welcome you with open arms. Especially Luca Gallo.”
“Who is Luca Gallo?”
“He was your cousin’s boyfriend, a caporegime. We think he was the one who…”
Terry trailed off and Angela chewed on the insides of her cheeks, remembering Val’s memorial service.
“You will be fully briefed, of course,” Duggan offered reassuringly.
“And wired!” Keller volunteered, but Duggan did not comment, both men waiting for Angela to respond.
“You will have to come with us to Miami, however.”
Angela blinked several times.
“Miami?”
“Yes. That was where your cousin was working.”
More consternation sprung through her veins as she gaped at the agent.
They lied to us about everything pertaining to Val. If she died there, she died in Miami, alone and out of touch with everyone she loved!
There was no dragon blood in Val’s veins, her side of the family completely untouched by the shifter gene. It would have been relatively easy to kill her if she’d been discovered.
Ang stared at him for a long moment, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of it all.
What really happened to Val? How could they have kept this from our family for so long?
To do this, she would have an advantage that Val did not—immortality. What was the worst that could happen?
“If you need some time to think about it, I don’t need an answer—”
“I’ll do it,” Ang interjected, cutting Duggan off mid-sentence.
“Garnet, take a day to think about it,” Keller barked, his face growing pale at her ready concession.
“I don’t need a day,” she replied quietly. “I’ll do it. My Aunt Stella deserves to know what really happened to her only child and the bastards responsible need to be brought to justice.”
Chapter One
Revisiting Problems
Giovanni DiMarco eyed them with disgust, his inky eyes boring into the three men with annoyance.
“When I give you a job, I expect it to be carried out,” he spat, his black irises glittering. “Having to call a meeting with you more than once a month is not what I consider you stronzos doing your job.”
The man’s voice was barely above a rasp, a dangerous sign, Luca knew from experience.
“What happened?” Arlo demanded. “Who screwed up this time?”
Gio glowered at him but Luca was certain that it wasn’t Arlo who had the problem, at least not in that instance.
He’s pissed at me because of the shipment, he thought, reaching for his grappa as he waited for the boss to unleash.
“I’m not gonna name names, but you know who you are and why we’re here,” the don spat. “The next time this happens, I’m gonna have you replaced.”
Luca took a long swig of his drink, absorbing the warmth of the liquid through his tense muscles.
Shut up, Luca. Don’t say anything. Keep your mouth shut.
But he couldn’t. It had been weighing too heavily on his mind. DiMarco needed to hear what he was thinking.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird this is the second time it’s happened in less than a month?” Luca volunteered.
All eyes turned to him and he lifted his olive chin to meet Giovanni’s steadfast gaze with his own piercing green eyes.
“What was that?” the boss snapped. “You got some excuse as to why I’ve lost two shipments?”
“It’s not an excuse,” Luca retorted. “It’s a fact. Your shipments were intercepted by the police in areas which our sources swore weren’t being monitored.”
“What are you suggesting, you little prick?” Gio hissed, anger coloring his face a near-purple.
“What the hell do you think I’m suggesting?” Luca growled. “Obviously someone has been tipping off the cops.”
The other capos sat back as if ducking out of the conversation, but there was nowhere to go. No one wanted to be in the line of fire for this. They could already see what was coming.
They think he’s going to murder me right here, Luca thought, almost rolling his eyes. They’ve been watching too many Robert DeNiro movies.
“You better have something to back that up, stronzo,” Gio rasped, his voice dropping as it did when he grew angry.
Luca grunted and downed the rest of his drink.
“For a man who doesn’t like coincidences, you seem fine allowing this to happen under your nose, boss,” Luca shot back, seeming unperturbed by Giovanni’s mounting fury.
The silence which followed was nothing short of ominous and while Luca broke the stare between them, he could feel Giovanni’s eyes boring into his head.
“Leave us,” the old man rasped, his words barely audible.
They didn’t need to be asked twice, both Arlo and Cesare bolting up from the booth. They disappeared into the kitchen without a word, leaving Luca with the wrath of his superior.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the don hissed at him. “What are you doing?”
Luca chuckled mirthlessly, staring at his manicured hands.
“I barely know where to start answering that question,” he replied honestly.
Indeed, what the hell is wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head.
Luca felt like it could be traced back to his infancy, or perhaps even to his ancestors. Whatever it was, it was ingrained in him, long before he was a grown man and capo under one of the biggest dons in the United States.
He was a second-generation made man, his fa
ther, Marino Gallo, one of the most trusted men who ever worked under Giovanni DiMarco.
There had never been any doubt that Luca and his brothers were going to work in the business, under Giovanni, and Luca had not wanted it any other way.
His father had loved the don so well, he had named his first-born Giovanni to show his devotion to the man.
Luca had always looked up to his father, and to Giovanni, and he took great pride in what the family stood for and why it existed.
From even before they could understand his words, Marino would sit his boys down and regale them with tales which always filled young Luca with awe and pride.
“When we were in the old country, son, the government and the rich tried to take our land. They did awful things to our people, raping the women, murdering children. The farmers, our ancestors, had to take a stand, to bond together and rise against the tyranny and the greed. That is why we are called a familia, figlios. Family is not necessarily blood but it is what keeps us together. With family, we can overcome the worst evil in this world, even when we have nothing.”
They were so colorful, the stories about the revolts and the incredible journey of the old-world Italians who fought against corruption, coming to the new world to escape injustice.
Luca’s dream was to eventually return to Italy and die in Sardinia, on the Tyrrhenian coast, basking in the warmth of his forefathers’ victories.
He was in his late teens before he realized that the stories, while historically sound, had little bearing on what the mob was in 2019.
We’re a bunch of murderous criminals, he discovered, but for some reason, it didn’t shock him as much as it should have. After all, they were dragon-blooded. Murder wasn’t unheard of among them.
Perhaps it was the subliminal knowing, his father’s strange hours and the secrecy which enshrouded the family.
Maybe it was the memory of bloodstains on his father’s jackets or his cracked knuckles.
Of course, there was the matter of the arsenal Luca had found when he was twelve.
Whatever the reason, when the reality had abruptly slapped him in the face, leaving him fatherless and disillusioned, he was not nearly as surprised as his brothers.
It was the only life he’d known, after all, and his future was all laid out for him, and Luca had not considered another life.
After all, it was what his father would have wanted.
But it was anticlimactic, as if he had been told his entire life that he was Batman and he turned out to be the Joker.
It was still cool but not the same.
The Joker. That should be my nickname. Who do I see about changing it?
“Sei nelle nouvole? I’m talking to you!” the don howled when he realized that Luca had tuned him out in favor of his own reverie. Luca sighed and stared at Giovanni, forsaking his dreams of changing his moniker.
This is what my life has become—daydreams about changing my mob name.
“I hear you,” Luca lied. “See? I’m listening?”
“I asked you a question! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Luca knew he needed to resolve the matter at hand before it got completely out of hand.
“Why are you making accusations without basis?” Giovanni continued.
“What do you want me to say, boss? It’s too much of a coincidence. All this stuff being seized suddenly? Someone is definitely talking. Maybe your new guy or—”
“Or maybe you’re screwing up your job and getting sloppy.”
Luca clamped his mouth shut, knowing there was little point in arguing with the man. He had said his piece and if Giovanni wanted to hear it, he would.
If not, Luca suspected they would be having the same conversation in another week.
Sooner or later, he’s going to see that one of these men are snitches, whether or not he wants to. The sooner he acknowledges it, the better off he’ll be.
“You watch your filthy mouth in front of the men,” Giovanni continued. “You’re gonna cause unrest among them if you start with that shit. You know better than this, Luca. Your papa taught you better.”
Luca bristled at the mention of his father and Giovanni seemed to pick up on it immediately.
“Have another drink, figlio. You’re tense. I can see it in your face. What’s on your mind?”
Giovanni gestured for the bartender, snapping his fingers rudely until she approached, the bottle of grappa in her hands.
“Doesn’t my boy look stressed out, cara?” he asked the long-time employee. “Look at his face.”
“He has a nice face,” Tanya chirped, filling his glass and winking at him, leaning her full breasts into his face teasingly, but Luca’s scowl only deepened.
Tanya flirted with all the men. It was an unspoken part of her job. It didn’t make him feel special.
“You see? Tanya thinks you’re handsome. What does a handsome kid like you have to worry about, huh? Just do your goddamned job and get the next shipment through, capisce?”
Luca rose, downing his freshly poured drink in one gulp before nodding, his brow still knit.
“Yeah, I got it,” he agreed.
“Luca…”
He gazed at Giovanni over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“You going today?”
The old bastard remembered! He didn’t know why he was surprised. Every time he thought the don was slipping, he’d do something to shock Luca.
The younger man nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Good. Send him my love, okay?”
Luca bobbed his head and stalked into the kitchen before Giovanni could say anything else. He didn’t have the stomach for a longer conversation on that matter.
He pushed his way through the kitchen staff, making his way outside to where his Saab was parked in the alleyway behind Giovanni’s restaurant.
Cesare was still there, smoking a cigarette.
“You got nine lives, you know that?” Ces sighed. “I don’t know how you get away with the shit you do.”
Luca unlocked the car and shrugged.
“Just saying what’s what,” he replied flippantly, opening the car door. “Can’t fault me for that.”
“Hey,” Ces said, stepping toward him, tossing the butt on the ground. “Are you okay? You’ve been more of an asshole than usual the past few days.”
“I’m good,” Luca lied.
I’m always good, aren’t I?
Luca slipped into his burgundy 9-5 and drove off, leaving Cesare staring after him, a perplexed look on his face.
How the hell do any of them know if I’m in a good mood or bad mood? he thought, his knuckles tightening against the wheel as he booted up Brickell Avenue, out of the downtown core. They think they know me but they don’t know anything about about me.
He knew he was being irrational in that moment, his anger misguided, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his mental rage as he drove.
Just because I was born into this shit and will die doing this shit doesn’t mean they own me or know what’s in my head.
As he continued up I-1 toward Fort Lauderdale, his heart began to steady, knowing he was leaving Miami behind.
I need to stop, he realized as he neared his destination, his eyes resting on a shop where he steered his Saab.
He didn’t immediately get out of the car, his hands still firmly around the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead.
I can’t believe another year has passed. God, I hate today.
Slowly, he grabbed his keys from the console and entered the store for his purchase, sweeping his hand through his dark mop of hair.
A single wave fell insistently back over his broad forehead, blocking his widow’s peak from view.
As he slammed the driver’s side door, he saw a group of teenaged girls turn to stare at him, giggling and whispering as their eyes lit up with interest.
His green eyes passed over them without acknowledgment and he would have ignored them altogether if a blonde
girl in a halter top had not stepped forward.
She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, her brown eyes wide and innocent as she sashayed toward him in too-short jean shorts.
“Hi,” she offered. “Nice car.”
Luca grunted in response, reaching for the door, but she stepped between him and the entrance, smiling demurely.
“Do you think you could do us a favor?” she asked sweetly.
Luca stared at her, unspeaking.
For a moment, he thought his stoic expression was enough to deter her from pursuing any further conversation, but she seemed confident in her abilities.
His eyes flittered back toward the other three girls who were watching her with awe in their eyes. The blonde was obviously the leader of their pack.
“Could you buy us some beer?” she asked. “We have money but we all forgot our ID.”
He studied her face closely, gauging her age to be around fifteen, sixteen at most.
“Beer, huh?” he asked, allowing a lazy smile to form on his lips. “Why don’t I take you to the liquor store and get us a bottle of vodka? We can all party together.”
Her eyes blazed with interest and she spun to look at her friends as if she had won the jackpot.
“That would be amazing!” she squealed and then immediately checked her tone, casting her eyes downward flirtatiously.
“Great. But I can only take you. Your friends have to wait here.”
She looked up uncertainly.
“Oh…”
He shrugged.
“Your call.”
His hand reached for the handle again and she made her decision.
“Okay!”
“No, Sasha!” one of her friends called and Luca glared at her. The girl’s face turned pale.
“I mean, thanks, we’re good.”
“It’s okay!” Sasha insisted. “I’ll be right back!”
“You should listen to your friend,” Luca snapped, pushing her aside. “She’s apparently the only one with a brain in your group.”
“What?” Sasha asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, the smile still on her face.
“Never mind,” he snapped. “You’re not even smart enough to understand a life lesson when it’s staring you in the face.”