Call My Bluff

by Elizabeth Knox

  Clemente’s only redeeming quality was his love for his family.

  “You’re telling me Jo came to you in tears because I haven’t slept with her?”

  “What? Are you fucking nuts? What kind of putata do you take my sister for? She would never discuss such a thing with me.”

  “So how do you even know we aren’t intimate?”

  “Josephine told Renata, and Renata told me. You know Renata, right? One of Josie’s best friends? My fiancée?” he added.

  Devin groaned under his breath, wishing Jo’s best friend didn’t like to gossip. “Yes, I am familiar with my girlfriend’s best friend, Clem.”

  “So, are you? Face walls? Do the mambo wiggle with your prick? Pound ass?”

  “Fuck! No!” Devin yelled, attracting the attention of a few bystanders. He cleared his throat, then blew out a noisy breath. He should take issue with Clemente’s less-than-politically-correct and completely vile words. However, the man’s concern could quickly morph into contempt. “No, no. I’m not gay. I’m just a devout Catholic. I don’t judge another person’s sexuality, by the way.”

  “Neither do I. Did you hear judgment from me, Fitz?” He jabbed Devin’s chest, uninterested in an answer. “What you heard from me was complete respect and understanding of the gay community. I just don’t want my sister dating one. Understand.”

  Devin clenched his jaw and nodded. “Completely.” Asshole.

  “I been thinking and thinking,” Clemente went on. “Trying to figure out a way to make Josie happy. Poor kid. Growing up without a mother had to be hard. Then she was in the room when all that business went down with Vittoria. Ten-years-old. Two years with me and the missus as her guardians, and I find out Vittoria was a fucking rat. Rats don’t get second chances. The human or rodent kind. I exterminated her. Got to control the pest population.”

  Devin kept his expression neutral, cataloging the important pieces of Clemente’s story and throwing away what was either already known or was unimportant. Jo growing up as Clemente’s ward was well-known. Vittoria Pancrizio’s murder was, too. While Clemente had always been a suspect, nothing could ever be proven. Until now.

  The hidden camera in his black tie caught it all.

  “I like you, Fitz. When Josie came to me and offered to give up her allowance for three fucking months if I extended you an invitation to my New Year’s Eve party, I hoped to find some Italian blood in you, even if it was five generations ago. Nothing. What the fuck kind of name is Bradshaw? Irish, isn’t it?”

  “It’s of Anglo-Saxon origin.”

  “No way can I change Bradshaw to something more acceptable. So be it. I didn’t want Josie to have a bad New Year’s Eve because you hadn’t been invited. I was going to take you upstairs to my office to have a conversation. Just you and me. Man-to-man. Know what I mean? I saw you come downstairs,” he went on, as usual not wanting an answer. “I think, there’s my chance. Then, Gabi comes to me. He says, ‘Boss, Jo-Jo’s crying upstairs’. I tell him to go and find out what the fuck happened. I hated to think we had to deal with you on such a beautiful night. He starts to walk off, then stops. He sees Renata rushing up the staircase, so I go, ‘just keep an eye out for them to come downstairs. Renata will tell me what’s going on. Imagine my shock when I discover why Josie’s so upset. And, goddammit, I say to myself that I knew I liked you for a fucking reason.” He tapped his temple. “You’re smart. I decide I have to know why you’re not trying to score with her. I think I hit upon the reason. Fitz must like dick. The only other reason I can think of is you don’t think my sister is attractive and that pains me. Pains me more than I can ever express.” He eyed Devin. “Get what I’m saying?”

  “Of course, I do,” Devin responded without hesitation. “I don’t intend on leaving your sister, but I also don’t intend on sleeping with her until we’re married. Did Renata explain that part to you?”

  His words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even thinking about the rest of his life without Grell, marrying someone else, left him miserable.

  Clemente’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re—”

  “I’m not wasting my time or hers,” Devin cut in. He’d never minced words with Clemente. If the mob boss got a one-up, he’d steamroll a person. “If I can’t get made and you don’t want me with her, then what’s the point of hanging around?”

  “If you can walk away from her, without a fight, you don’t love her in the first fucking place.”

  Devin scowled. “Have you listened to yourself, Clem? I’m damned either way. If I get too forward with her and you find out, I’m dead. Because I haven’t made a move on her, you’re trying to decide my fate. I happen to love living.”

  “I don’t care how attached you are to breathing. Do you love my sister?”

  There it was. The question he had to answer with conviction. The one that seemed to hollow out his soul. He met Clemente’s furious gaze and nodded. “Yes. I love Jo. I’m just a devout Catholic.”

  Fitz was, not Devin.

  Devin was agnostic.

  In order to make his lie work, he’d begun attending a catholic church about a month before he went undercover. There’d been so much preparation. He’d even had to take malware coding classes for authenticity.

  Clemente roared with laughter. After he composed himself, he shook his head. “I’ve seen you relish guys being beaten to bloody pulps.”

  Invariably, the asshole beaten to a bloody pulp deserved it.

  “But you won’t sleep with my sister because of your religion? Isn’t violence frowned upon too?”

  “Did I ever participate?”

  “You’re something else, Fitzgerald,” Clemente said instead of providing a direct answer. “Just enjoy yourself tonight. If Josie has her heart set on marrying you, I’ll bang some heads together and make something work. As long as Josie is satisfied with waiting until marriage, I won’t question you again. And as long as you keep your cock protected by your zipper, I won’t kill you.”

  If Jo had been talking about their lack of intimacy with Renata, her dissatisfaction went beyond getting herself off. If Jo was growing that unhappy in their relationship, that’d lead to problems with Clemente, at the very heart of the case. And if this case went on too long, it would lead to questions about marriage, and he had no excuse for reasons why he wouldn’t marry Jo.

  “A bit of recommendation, Fitz. Keep Josie happy.”

  “I’m trying to,” Devin swore.

  Clem eyed him, then smiled without a shred of warmth. “Having long-lost cousins pop up isn’t a way to keep her happy.”

  “I know,” Devin said evenly. “I didn’t have anyone pop up.”

  “Iloria didn’t materialize out of thin air. We’re not at a magic show on the Strip. She had to get an invitation to one of my exclusive parties some kind of way.”

  “I didn’t invite the woman, Clem. I haven’t spoken to her in years,” he snapped. “Why would I abuse your kindness in such a way?”

  “This isn’t about my kindness. This is about my little sister.”

  “Of course, it is. It should go without saying that I’d never disrespect Jo by inviting someone here after she worked so hard to get you to invite me.”

  Clem gave Devin another cold stare. “My gut’s telling me this Iloria woman is plainclothes.”

  “That’s not the case at all,” Devin protested. “We grew up together. I know her. She would never—”

  “No, Fitz,” Clem said with a shake of his head. “You knew her. Many moons ago. According to you, you haven’t spoken to her in a while. Yet, suddenly, she’s here. Out of the blue. On a very important night. Upsetting my little sister.”

  “No, she wouldn’t do such a thing. Iloria mistrusted authority as much as me. Why would she turn into what she most hated?”

  “Who knows? Just trust me. She did turn and is playing me and my guys for fucking fools.”

  Devin’s nostrils flared. He was sure his heart skipped a beat. The irony of Clemente’
s statement could’ve been comical if it wasn’t so dangerous.

  “The Feds got a way of infiltrating even the most private organizations,” Clemente went on.

  Setting his empty glass down, Devin stood. He couldn’t play this game anymore with his wife’s life in danger.

  “You know what tipped me off? Those goddamn stilettos. A fucking message on her feet.”

  Devin froze, then cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

  “Story for another time,” Clemente reassured him. “I’ve wasted enough of your time. Hang tight. I’m going to send Josie to you.”

  With that, and one last pat on the back, Clemente turned, whistling as he walked away.

  When Jo found him again, not long after Clemente walked away, and lured Devin back onto the dance floor, he decided to do what he did best. Compartmentalize. Plan. Execute.

  Devin and Jo danced for what seemed like an eternity, his conversation with Clemente replaying on repeat in his mind. Now more than ever, it was very important to keep Josephine satisfied. That, as a matter of fact, was currently his most crucial job, once he got Grell, Bella, and Hope as far away as possible. As long as Jo was content in their ‘relationship,’ and as long as Devin remained cautious, the smoother things would go and the quicker this operation would end.

  “I’m going to request the DJ play a special song just for us after our drink,” Jo said as Devin guided her to a seat at a nearby bistro-style table.

  He slid into his own seat. “As curious as I am about what that song is, I’m afraid it will have to wait. This old fogey is tired. I’m going to head out, Jo.”

  She ran a finger down the table, then looked at him through her lashes. “You don’t seem tired to me. Are you sure you want to go home?”

  “If I intended to go somewhere else, I would tell you,” he said flatly.

  “Well, you didn’t tell me about your cousin. How do I know what you’re doing when you’re not around?”

  Devin narrowed his eyes at Jo. If only she hadn’t been his way into Clemente’s life. The other option had been Gabiano. Early on, though, Devin couldn’t stand the man. He hadn’t been able to just show up and expect an immediate entry. No, to get close to Clemente had to be a natural progression in the order of whatever relationship Devin cultivated. In the end, it made more sense to use Jo.

  “Stop it,” he ordered. “I’m a one-woman man. When I was married before, even when things started falling apart, I didn’t cheat. I would walk away first.”

  “Iloria went through a lot of trouble to seek you out just to say hello.”

  “And you were sufficiently hard on her for that mistake, leading her to believe we’re lovers, when you know damn well we aren’t.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” she fired back. “You’re mine. I’m the one who invited you to the places you couldn’t have otherwise gotten into.”

  As a “new” resident of the area who’d come back after years away, he’d began by frequenting Pancrizio hangouts. He’d set up his apartment in an area befitting an elite malware coder. Not too expensive but not too working-class, either. After all, it was the kingpins who had the coders and the criminals doing the actual work while growing wealthier. Devin had chosen a very fine line to walk. He couldn’t choose the type of criminal actively involved in violent crimes.

  In this, it was a matter of digital setup. Dropping bits of coding knowledge here and there to raise interest. Hinting at the contacts he had to do ID and credit card harvesting. Everyone needed identification. Some people, however, had no use for their own. Of course, all the technology Devin would utilize to turn a profit for Clemente would be run by the government.

  Hopefully, Clem’s confidence in Devin would grow once Devin helped Clem turn a profit. From there, that trust would lead to the ultimate goal of this investigation. The infamous red stilettos used to transport drugs. An insider had gone into great detail, providing photos as proof. The stiletto heel, other than being high enough to cause treacherous falls, was unassuming. Even the platform sole was. There was a plethora of similar shoes. But these had a silhouette of a nude woman, legs open, on the outer side, while drugs were stored in the hollowed-out platform.

  Apparently, these shipments happened each quarter and contained a few hundred boxes filled with these drug transporting red platform stilettos.

  Though he had no proof, Devin estimated two shipments had already taken place since he’d been undercover. He had to discover details about the next shipment.

  His progress in meeting Clemente had gone achingly slow, until Devin decided to change tactics. After weeks of being lost in making his presence known and setting up appearances— and getting acquainted with Gabiano— Devin realized Jo was also starting to show up wherever he happened to be. He didn’t think it was coincidence and was more than certain that she was the lure to snare him, and perhaps, help him let his guard down and expose himself.

  She’d tried to strike up conversations with him, but he’d shut her down each time. He hadn’t trusted her, nor had he been comfortable having to deal with a woman.

  After about six weeks, he’d “chosen” The Foundation as his go-to spot. Jo hung around her family’s bar a lot, leaving run-ins with her inevitable. Another two weeks passed before he saw her as his best, and easiest, way in. From the moment he’d decided to use her, he formed an alibi to explain why he wasn’t sleeping with a woman supposedly his partner— and a smoking hot one at that.

  Catholicism seemed like the easiest explanation. When she’d begun questioning why they weren’t intimate, he had a solid answer that she could verify.

  “Are you thinking about her or me?” Jo demanded into the silence.

  “This is bullshit, Josephine, and you know it. You stood there and allowed Gabiano to put a gun to my fucking head. You interrogated Iloria like she was a witness on the stand. Yet, your anger toward me was cursory at best.”

  “Any woman who searches out a man she hasn’t seen in years is here for more than a hello, Fitz.”

  “That’s disgusting. We’re practically family.”

  “Maybe in your mind, but not in hers.” She gave him a level look. “When I discovered you were cozying up to a strange woman and no one had any idea how she was even invited, I had a moment of doubt.” She glanced around, then shifted her chair closer to Devin’s. “Word spread rapidly about her presence,” she whispered. “Gabiano has long had his doubts about you. Her appearance seemed to give weight to his suspicions, but then she proved you truthful when she verified your origins. I was too relieved to stay angry with you. Her, though? She best keep her distance from you, and you from her.”

  Devin stood. “On that note, I think it’s best if I left. If you can’t trust me by now, what the fuck am I doing here? Suppose she’d gotten one, little detail mixed up? I wouldn’t be alive to belong to you.”

  Jo jumped to her feet and rushed to block his pathway. “I’m sorry, Fitz. I’ll never doubt you again.”

  “How kind,” he sneered.

  “Don’t be angry with me. How did we even get on this subject? It isn’t important. She isn’t important.”

  “She is to me,” Devin blurted, then quickly qualified his meaning. “We were in the system together and share a lot of memories, both good and bad. Our shared experiences make her important to me.”

  “I see,” Jo said tightly, not in the least happy with Devin’s explanation. “So, you are going to see her.”

  “No. I’m going home. I want to think things over. I’ve tried to put that part of our evening out of my mind, but this conversation reminded me of Gabiano’s glee at the prospect of shooting me.” He started away, but Jo grabbed his jacket sleeve.

  “No. Wait.”

  “Bullshit,” Devin growled. “I’m tired. I’m irritated. Give me the space I need to think this over, Josephine.”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she lifted her chin. “Fine.”

  “And don’t you dare go to Clem or Gabiano to have
me followed.”

  A flush crept over her skin.

  “Give me that much goddamn respect,” he said, before hurrying away.

  Chapter Six

  Grell

  A loud knock on her motel door awakened Grell and made her lift her head. At the silence greeting her, she wondered if she’d imagined the sound. Or, maybe, she was dreaming.

  Sighing, she settled her head back on the pillow, which was about one-inch thick and terribly uncomfortable. Reno would have much better accommodations than what she and the girls had been subjected to the past thirty-six hours.

  Once she’d gone home to collect Devin’s gun, some cash, and clothes for her and her daughters, she’d gone to Theo’s apartment in Sunrise Manor to pick up Bella and Hope. The journey to the unincorporated town added extra time to Grell’s trip because she needed to get back to US95.

  She’d considered confiding in Theo, but ultimately decided against it. Not wanting to involve anyone else in this situation, she hadn’t asked to camp out at her house. Explanations would’ve been required. Where could she start, even if she’d known what to say? Nothing.

  She’d taken her girls and left. Her plan had been to rest for the night, then start off in the morning. Considering it was New Year’s in Las Vegas, she’d had a hard time finding a room in the dingiest motel. What she’d gotten was even dingier than her wildest dreams.

  Another pound on the door made Grell lift her head again. She hadn’t imagined someone knocking. But she was tired and bone-weary. Hopefully, they’d just go away.

  She rested her head on the pillow again, sincerely wishing she was at home. Safe. With her girls and her husband. But, no. She was fleeing, with annoying amendments to her itinerary.

  Had she gotten a room in Vegas, she would’ve been energized. From there, she’d had every intention of fleeing to Reno, and not stopping until she arrived at her destination. It was late, though, and she was so tired. Bella and Hope were cranky. As much as she wanted to keep going, she’d realized the emotional toll of her disastrous anniversary date, along with the hours she’d been awake, sapped her strength. Outside of the city, when the four-lane highway, before a two-lane road, one for each direction, the pitch black of the night with only occasional headlights reminded her why US95 was nicknamed the loneliest highway in the world.