by Cassia Leo
12
I try not to cry as I walk to the midtown station on 35th. Instead, I apply my makeup while walking through the crowds on the sidewalk. Ignoring the angry complaints for me to watch where I’m going. I swipe some lipstick over my mouth and tuck my compact into my purse.
Stopping on the sidewalk, I look up at the building I’ve worked in for thirteen months. It looks different.
The brown brick and gold clad siding look even gaudier than usual. A boxy design that used to symbolize strength now looks ridiculous and outdated. This department is no match for men like Knox Savage. As long as he can get to someone inside. Someone as weak and susceptible as me.
For all I know, Knox probably orchestrated this whole mess with August. All so he could find me last night on 42nd Street at my most vulnerable moment. As if he were rescuing me.
No, that’s just insane. Why would anyone go to such lengths to make another person feel insecure? Just to mess with their head. Then again, I know next to nothing about Knox other than the fact that he works for my father.
I enter the station and say my good mornings to the officers manning the front desk. You shouldn’t be so nice to me. I’m going to betray you in a few hours, I almost blurt out. I take the elevator down to the sub-level. The doors open and Detective Charlie Hunter is standing in the concrete corridor.
“Good morning, Veneto,” he says in his smooth jazz voice.
Charlie Hunter is the one mistake I made in the entire department. Everyone here knows who my father is. Some people think it’s funny to joke about it. Did you see your dad this weekend? Help your dad bury any dead bodies this weekend?
Charlie was the only one in this testosterone and coffee-fueled group of grown men who seemed normal. So I thought I’d be friendly. We went for drinks at a steakhouse around the corner. I didn’t think it was a date. Charlie disagreed. When he found out I was seeing someone, he dug up a bunch of dirt on August and left it in a manila folder on my desk in the evidence locker.
As soon as I realized what it was, I shredded the folder and all it’s contents. I didn’t want to read it. Though, I must admit I regret that a little. Especially considering everything that’s happened with August.
“Hey, Charlie,” I say, stepping out of the elevator.
He stops on the threshold of the elevator and watches me. “Hey, tough luck about your dad.”
I don’t have to turn around. I can hear the smug grin in his voice.
“Fuck off, Charlie.”
13
Telling a detective to fuck off was probably not my smartest move. But I’m too on edge to deal with smug assholes. I sit at my desk in the evidence locker, staring at the phone, willing it to ring so we can get this over with.
“You all right, Veneto? You look like you’re gonna puke.”
Tracy Warner is my coworker and the only person in this precinct I can be honest with. Until today, that is. I can’t tell her anything about Knox or my father or Frank Mainella.
“It’s this whole thing with my dad. I’m sick about it. And everyone’s looking at me weird. This … this is the last place I want to be right now.”
It’s not a total lie.
“You want to take the day off? I’ll tell the sergeant you got violently ill and puked all over an evidence bag.”
“Way to get me fired.”
She smiles and her brown skin crinkles around her eyes. “Honey, you look like shit. Weren’t you the one who told me your father was dead to you?”
I shrug. “Yeah, that was when I knew I could go hug him any time I wanted to.”
Did I just say that out loud?
“Girl, there ain’t nothing wrong with loving your screwed up family,” she says, rubbing my back. “I told you about my cousin Evan. That boy been in and out of jail more times than I can count and I still pick him up every time he’s released. It’s blood, baby. Ain’t nothin’ stronger.”
Blood. I wonder what kind of evidence they have against my father. What evidence I have to destroy? It can’t be blood. I saw Frank Mainella die. There was no blood. My father unplugged the downstairs lamps and tightened the cord around Frank’s neck. Then he held it until Frank’s eyes turned bloodshot and his tongue lolled to the side.
The phone rings and my heart leaps into my throat.
“You want me to get that?” Tracy says, leaning over me as she reaches for the phone.
“No!” I say, my hand beating hers to the handset.
I pick up the phone and press it to my ear so I don’t have to see Tracy’s reaction. “Hello? Um, I mean, Midtown South. Veneto speaking. May I help you?”
“Veneto, this is Savage.” His voice is beautiful. “Rebecca, are you there?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m here. How may I help you?”
“Rebecca, I need you to check your email. Your private email address. There’s a message for you from Knox Security. Follow the instructions in that email. Good luck.”
He hangs up before I can ask him if I’ll be seeing him tonight. I’m behaving like a desperate schoolgirl, hoping for just one more glance from the hot captain of the football team. I sigh as I open up the browser on my computer. Then I stop myself. I can’t check it on my work computer.
I pull my phone out of my purse and open the email app. Sure enough, the most recent email is from Knox Security. When I open it up, the logo looks very familiar. There’s an attachment, but it requires a password.
I enter the name Frank Mainella and nothing happens. I enter my father’s name and nothing. It has to be Rebecca. I enter my name and still nothing happens.
Then it hits me.
I enter the password I use for all my personal accounts. The password I think no one but me knows. Immediately a video message opens. I pause the video and excuse myself to the restroom so I can watch it. I take a seat on the toilet and press play.
His voice sends a chill through me. He gives me clear instructions on the location and catalog number of the file I need to get my hands on. It’s not in this precinct. It’s in the Queens forensics lab. I’m not surprised. We hold very little evidence here in Midtown South.
Knox goes on explaining an elaborate lie, which I’m supposed to memorize so I can gain access to the evidence. He signs off with a nod of his head. I’m almost saddened that there was no promise of seeing each other tonight. But of course he can’t put that on video.
“Who was it?” Tracy asks as I sits at my desk in front of her.
“Who was what?”
“On the phone, before you went to the restroom?”
“Oh. Oh that. That was just Charlie asking if he can take me out for a drink to drown my sorrows.”
“He just won’t let it go, will he?”
I tuck my phone into my purse and lay my head on my desk. “I’m really not feeling well. Maybe it’s not just this mess with my dad.”
“Honey, you go on home. I’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Tracy.” I give her a one-armed hug before I leave the locker.
I leave through a different entrance than I entered, so I don’t have to hear any more comments about my father. But I still manage to run into Charlie again on the sidewalk.
“Leaving so soon?” he says. “Is the pressure finally getting to you? You look a little pale.”
I ignore him as I walk past, then I stop. I can’t let this guy bully me. If he can’t deal with rejection, let’s see how he deals with wrath.
I turn on my heel to face him. “You know what, Charlie, you’re pathetic. You think digging up dirt on my boyfriend is going to make me want to date you instead? You think dragging my name through the mud then rubbing my face in it is going to make me respect you? You’re nothing but a piece of shit who can’t take rejection. Now leave me the hell alone before I file a harassment claim.”
He stares at me for a moment as he drops his cigarette onto the concrete and stamps it out with his wingtip. “Where are you off to, Veneto? Awfully early to be leaving work.”
�
�I’m going home to puke in my own toilet, while my boyfriend holds my hair back and screws me from behind. Have a nice day.”
14
I take a cab to Queens, but I ask the driver to drop me off a couple of blocks away — as Knox instructed me to. He doesn’t want anyone, not even the cab driver, to know where I’m going. He didn’t say it, but I also think this is so he can follow me. As I walk down Jamaica Avenue, I can almost sense Knox out there, watching my every move. And it makes me feel safe.
I enter the reception area and two uniformed police officers are manning the front counter. There’s a chain link gate to their left bearing a large white sign bearing the words Stop. Wait here until you are called.
I approach the counter and the older officer comes up to greet me. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here from the 14th Precinct. Sergent Sullivan sent me to pick up the …” I pause, just the way Knox told me to, “… the Sugarman case.”
I hold out the badge that hangs around my neck. The officer with the gray hair and the hard, black eyes examines my badge. He buzzes me in and tells me how to get to another reception area where the clerk will pull the file for me.
You’re probably wondering how I’m going to get away with this. I’m not.
I’m not actually going to do anything. When I get to the reception area, the clerk won’t be there. She’s going to be in the bathroom, violently ill from a little something someone put in her morning coffee. I’m going to get in there and take both the Sugarman file and the Veneto file. I will take the Sugarman file with me, but I’ll stuff the Veneto file in the bottom drawer of the receptionist’s desk. That’s it.
It’s a stall tactic. I’m not actually destroying evidence.
Without the evidence, there’s no case against my father. As tempting as it is to destroy the file, that’s not my job. And Knox made that very clear. We just need to buy some time.
And some freedom.
Without the file, the judge will most likely grant my father bail at today’s arraignment. It will probably be an exorbitant amount, but Knox will take care of it. Then it’s just a matter of waiting for me to be subpoenaed.
Knox didn’t say what kind of evidence they found on Frank Mainella’s skeletal remains, but it has to be something that ties Frank to our house in Bensonhurst. I can’t think of any other reason they would need to subpoena me. But once I’m on the stand, that’s when phase two of Operation Veneto Freedom begins.
Let me make this clear. I don’t condone what my father did to Frank Mainella. In fact, I hate him for it. I suffered nightmares and anxiety for years after that night. But you can’t help who you love. And I love my father despite the atrocities he’s committed. I always will.
I stuff the Veneto file into the bottom drawer of the receptionist’s desk and slide it closed. As I round the desk, I hear the sound of her heels clicking against the tile in the corridor. I go through the motions of requesting the Sugarman file. Her face is white as tissue paper as she drags herself back into the warehouse and retrieves the file for me. She hands it over and I thank her profusely. Then I suggest she get some rest. There’s a stomach bug going around.
When I come out of the Crime Lab and step onto the sidewalk, I almost breathe a sigh of relief. Until I see Charlie standing on the sidewalk.
“Thought you were going home?”
“Are you following me?”
My heart is racing, but not with fury. This is bad. This is so, so bad. This was not part of the plan. The plan was for me to get in another cab a couple of blocks away. That cab was supposed to take me to my apartment where Knox would be waiting. One of his guys, disguised as a court courier, was supposed to deliver the file to the precinct. Then Knox Savage was going to ravage me.
“Why would I be following you?”
This is a trick question. Charlie’s trying to get me to slip up and say something about my father.
“Because you’re obsessed with me.”
“You wish. I’m a fucking detective. It’s my job to be here. Why are you here?”
“I work in evidence. It’s my job to be here.”
He rolls his eyes as he walks toward the entrance door. “Have fun getting fucked over a toilet.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
This is not good. Charlie cannot know I was here.
I scurry down the sidewalk and flag down a cab. I shoot off the address for my apartment building, then I lean back to catch my breath. The cab comes to a screeching halt and my eyelids fly open. The cab door is wrenched open. I’m yanked out of the backseat by a guy in a suit and black sunglasses.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp as he carries me to a black SUV, which is stopped in front of the cab.
“Shh!”
He stuffs me into the backseat and climbs in behind me. Then the car speeds away. Not in the direction of my apartment.
15
I whip my head around to see who else is in the car with us. It’s just me, the driver, the guy who threw me in here in the row of seats behind me, and Knox in the seat next to me. He’s wearing a dark blue suit today. He’s looking even more ravishing than last night. And he does not look happy.
I don’t have to ask where we’re going. It’s obvious we’re going back to the garage where this all began. I want to ask him how screwed we are, but I’m frightened of his response. Instead, we stare into each other’s eyes for a while, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
I can’t take this anymore.
“What are we going to do about Charlie?”
“You’re not going to do anything. I’ll take care of Charlie.”
“What do you mean by take care of? What are you going to do to him?”
“You worry about doing your job and I’ll worry about mine.”
“You can’t hurt him. He’s a prick, but he doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”
Knox leans forward suddenly and thrusts a pointed finger in my face. “You should have stuck to the fucking script! But, no, you had to go and antagonize that loser. Whatever happens to him now is your fault! It’s on your head!”
My heart is thumping so hard my chest begins to hurt. I can’t be responsible for anything bad happening to Charlie. I have to fix this. I lean back in my seat, clutching my chest. What have I done?
“What’s wrong? Are you having a heart attack or something?” The anger in his voice is still there, buried beneath a layer of genuine concern.
I cough to try to clear the tightening in my chest. I can’t breathe.
“I get anxiety attacks … ever since … Frank.”
I lean forward to take quick, sharp breaths. But all I can think of is Charlie. I screwed up. I got in way over my head. I should never have agreed to help Knox. Now Charlie’s going to pay the price for my stupidity.
“Breathe,” Knox murmurs, his hand on my back, comforting me. “Don’t think about anything. Just breathe.”
I close my eyes and block out the frantic pounding of my heart. I focus all my attention on each breath. Slowly, I begin to breathe normally and the pain in my chest subsides. I sit up and Knox is right next to me, his thigh pressed against mine, his arm around my shoulder.
He looks worried as he brushes my hair over my ear. “Are you all right?”
I nod even though being this close to him is making my heart race again.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He takes my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I just want you to know how serious this is.”
The car stops, but I don’t bother looking around to see where we are. The driver and the guard exit the car without a word, leaving Knox and I alone. My hands reach up to grab his wrists as he cradles my face.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “You can do this, Rebecca. This is justice … for your father.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe that. I need to know more about
this plan if I can continue. My ignorance puts everyone in jeopardy.”
His shoulders rise and fall as he sighs heavily. “You’re right. It’s time for you to know the truth. But first …”
He plants a soft kiss on my jaw then traces his lips down the length of my neck to my shoulder. “Let me have you one last time. The truth might change the way you feel about me. But you’re all I’ve thought about today.”
His hand slides under my skirt. As his finger toys with the lacy edge of my panties, teasing me, the resolve drains from my body. I climb onto his lap and lean in to taste his neck. His hands reach under my skirt and grasp the back of my panties. Without warning, he rips them apart and yanks them out from between my legs.
I reach down to undo his pants. His enormous erection is testing the strength of his zipper. I undo his belt, then his pants and soon he springs free beneath me.
I let out a shrieking gasp as I mount him. “You’re so hard.”
“That’s because you drive me crazy.”
He thrusts into me as I rise and fall on top of him. The combination of both movements driving him deeper inside me than I thought possible. Each time he hits my cervix, I cry out in pleasurable pain. The most exquisite pain I’ve ever experienced.
“You always have,” he whispers against my neck.
“What?” I say, clutching his hair so I can bring his mouth to mine.
“You’ve always driven me crazy,” he mutters into my mouth. “Since the day you kissed me in your living room.”
I pull my head back to look him in the eye and he’s wearing a barely noticeable grin. “It is you.”
He nods. “Don’t stop,” he says, grabbing my hips as he grinds into me. “I’ve been dreaming about you for ten years. Don’t stop now.”
I rise slowly then come down even slower. Savoring the delicious friction. The way his thick cock stretches me and fills me like no one else.
“Marco,” I whisper in his ear and his cock jumps inside me. “Fuck me, Marco. Make me come.”