by Misty Evans
Victor figured as much. “I put in a call to Mitch to come help.” Mitch Holden was a national security expert who handled top secret, and very hush-hush, intelligence gathering. In the past several years, he’d worked with the taskforce on several assignments, but mostly was a stay-at-home dad these days with his wife and new baby. “We’ll put out a net to trap this scumbag before he gets too far.”
Mitch was married to a forensic psychiatrist who’d had great success using animal therapy to help juvenile delinquents. “I’ll see if Emma can come too, and I want you to sit down with her and talk. Tell her what happened. This can bring up a lot of old stuff for you. Emma can help you deal with it.”
He’d witnessed plenty of shootings in the line of duty, unfortunately, and seen the scars they left on those involved, whether they’d taken the bullet or watched a loved one or friend take it. Celina was going to need therapy, regardless of how resilient she was.
“I’ll be fine. I have to be strong for both Cooper and our little girl.”
“This is a direct order, Agent Davenport.” He put a hand on her shoulder to soften his pulling rank. “You’re tough as nails, Celina, but I also know how valuable you are to your family and my taskforce. Emma is your friend, as well as a top-notch psychiatrist, and you need both in order to help Cooper and Via process this.”
His newest sidekick backed him up. “You are their rock,” Liv said to her. “In order to be that rock, you need to accept support from your friends. Besides, Emma’s going to want to know all the details anyway, and with your help, she’ll be able to build a profile of the shooter for us.”
“I don’t know how.” Celina sighed, the puff of air blowing up her bangs. “I didn’t see anybody. All I know is what direction the shot came from.”
Liv smiled. “From what I know about Dr. Collins, she’s worked with less and still managed to help law enforcement catch their man.”
Celina smiled back ruefully. “You’re right. She has an amazing ability. It’s almost like she digs into your mind and sees the scene herself, picking up on all the little things you didn’t register in your consciousness.”
Victor hugged her again. “Do you need anything before Thomas and I leave?”
Ronni stepped forward and took Celina’s hand. Celina looked at her, relaxing slightly, and then back to Victor. “Just catch this bastard, Director. You can’t let him get away with this.”
“You think of anything, no matter who, what, or how insignificant it seems, you get in touch with me.”
“I will.”
He patted her shoulder again. “Take care of our boy. Thomas and I will keep you updated on anything we find. When Cooper comes to, tell him I’ll be back, and if he doesn’t stay in that hospital bed and listen to you and the doctors, I will kick him into it.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”
That was what he did. Made people feel safe by protecting them, and when he couldn’t protect them, he made sure justice was found. Emma Collins would tell him it stemmed from taking care of his four younger sisters after their mother was injured in a car accident and could no longer work. His father had been killed when Victor was only ten years old. Too young to have so much responsibility riding on his shoulders, but that was life. All of that for his family had groomed him to be the man he was. He stood up for the weak, protected the vulnerable, squashed evil.
“Call us if you need anything,” Thomas said to Celina and Ronni.
Ronni nodded, her dark afro longer than Victor had seen in a while. “We will.”
Steering Liv and Taz to the door, Victor stuffed down the burning desire to punch the wall as he left a very vulnerable part of his Taskforce behind.
Outside the hospital, Olivia followed Victor to their cars. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek, and she knew he was holding back his emotions with great restraint. Thomas was parked in a different lot and they’d agreed to meet up at the secret office the taskforce kept downtown. Taz jogged beside her, both of them having to move quickly to keep up with Victor’s long strides.
The sun was setting and a soft orange glow came from the west, the parking lot in shadow from the multiple story hospital. When they got to the cars, Victor said nothing, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
He released her and patted the top of Taz’s head. “It means a lot to me that you came, but there’s really not much you can do. Maybe put out some feelers with any of the lowlifes you know. Thomas and I will be working with the locals and checking through our recent cases that might involve someone wanting to strike at Cooper. Roman has his team checking the web for chatter concerning this to see if anyone is taking credit or knows anything.”
Dr. Roman Walsh, Homeland Security. She’d heard of him, but never had the opportunity to work with him and his Domestic Terrorism Taskforce.
Her earlier conversation with Alfonso niggled at the back of her brain. “Did Cooper’s team ever have any cases involving the Fifty-seven Gang?”
He gave her a curious look. “That rings a bell, but they’re not an active case. Why?”
“One of my informants is feeding me information about a couple mafia bosses here in California tied to the Chicago Fifty-seven Gang syndicate. DeStefano is the leader’s name. My CI told me something big is in the wind and it involves targeting law enforcement. That’s what my call at your house was about. My source doesn’t have details yet, but I’ll stay on him, just in case.”
He squeezed her arm. “I appreciate that. I don’t think the SCVC Taskforce has tangled with DeStefano, but many of the criminals they go after have ties to both American and foreign mafias. Seems like everyone’s an equal opportunity employer anymore when it comes to running drugs and guns, and other crimes.”
She nodded, seeing Thomas driving past the lot. A For Sale sign was taped in the back window of the older sports car. “Taz can come home with me. When you’re ready for a break, come over.”
“It’s going to be a long night. I appreciate you taking care of him. I usually have my neighbor let him out when I’m pulling an all-nighter, but he’ll be happy with you.”
She reached up and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Keep me updated and I’ll expect you for breakfast, if not before. That’s an order. You have to eat, even if you don’t sleep.”
He gave her a tired smile. “Text me your address.”
She led Taz to the passenger side of her car. “You don’t have it?”
“Should I?”
“A blue-chip agent like you? I expect you ran a background check on me the night we met. You probably know more about me than my mother does, although she doesn’t speak to me much anymore.”
He chuckled. “Hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t even look at your Facebook page.”
Her shock was genuine. “I don’t have one, but I do have a pretty extensive file with the Justice Department. You might want to check it out. I’ve been told it’s better than reality TV.”
He raised one brow. “I see reality TV every day on the streets. I’d rather get to know you in person, rather than by some dry, textbook file.”
Considering he knew her intimately, she took that as a compliment that he also wanted to become familiar on other levels. Yes, they’d been texting and talking since that holiday party, but they hadn’t yet gone diving into either of their pasts.
Emotional dumpster diving, her college friend, Mandy, had called it. While few people’s pasts were bright and shiny, some had a lot of gross, smelly issues they would rather keep hidden in a garbage can. Liv fell into that category.
She opened the car door and let Taz hop onto the seat. “See you for breakfast. I’ll text you the address. I’m not far from Cooper and Celina’s.”
He waved and she drove off.
She sang along with her playlist as she finagled her car out of the city and onto the freeway heading north. Streetlights came on as
darkness stole its way over the land. She opened the passenger window, allowing Taz to stick his head out.
A warmth infiltrated her chest as she thought about the fact Victor hadn’t investigated her. With most men, she would’ve doubted his sincerity, but the director was different. She trusted him on many levels, and that was no small feat in her world. When you learned your father was a gangster as a kid, it was like finding out Santa Claus wasn’t real.
She didn’t trust anyone, especially those who claimed to care for her. Knowing she could trust Victor was better than gold.
But could she? The JD didn’t have her investigating him for no reason. They hadn’t shared any specifics on why they suspected foul play, and she had asked to no avail. The Justice Department was like God, moving in mysterious ways.
Still, it was in Victor’s nature to be inquisitive and protective of his own boundaries, so it really wouldn’t have surprised her if he had a complete file on her somewhere in his desk. Knowing him, he kept all the intel inside his head. But if he said he hadn’t done a background on her, she believed it.
She hadn’t needed to check into his past. She knew all about him, thanks to his prominence in the FBI and the way Celina had gushed about him when inviting Liv to the Christmas party. He hadn’t become the West Coast director by playing small. Everyone in law enforcement knew Victor Dupé and his impressive record against the dark underbelly of the world of violent crime.
But she’d had an agenda at that party, another reason for knowing everything about Victor. She’d had the perfect opportunity to stay close to him, like her Justice Department superior wanted, but she knew better than to push too hard. She was simply to observe, interact, and report back if she discovered anything suspicious. So far, all she had come up with only verified the fact that the director had a clean nose and deserved every one of the commendations hanging on his office wall.
She prayed it would stay that way. That Victor would go on trusting her and they could develop their relationship. Maybe he hadn’t needed to investigate her because she too, had a bit of notoriety. Tinker Bell, they called her, because she was the daughter of Felix “The Hook” Fiorelli. She hated it, as much as she did the reason for the moniker, but it had stuck, even in the US Marshal Service. No one dared say it to her face, but she heard it whispered behind her back.
Her father, and the Chicago crime syndicate he’d ran with when she was a child, had given her the fuel to become who she was. She had built her reputation with one goal in mind—wiping out the mob. From the eastern shores of America to the west, she was on a mission.
Tinker Bell that, you pieces of shit.
Alfie was going to help her with that. She’d been grooming him for the past five months. She was closer than ever to uncovering the final nails to put in Gino DeStefano’s coffin. The men he had working to expand his empire in California would also go down, if she had any say in the matter. If she cut off the head of the snake, it would die.
Her house was dark when she pulled up. She hadn’t left lights on, hoping she would be spending the night with Victor. Using an app on her phone, she disengaged the security system and lit the place up. Taz sniffed at all the new smells and she finally took him into the tiny backyard so he could pee.
Back inside, she cooked hamburger for him and gave him water. While he investigated the house, she put in a call to Alfie.
It rang three times on his end and she hung up. She waited a minute and called again, doing the same. That was their signal. Then she waited for him to call her back.
After five minutes, she grew frustrated, but this wasn’t abnormal. He might be in a meeting, or, for all she knew, on the job. She’d like to believe he was home with his daughter, reading her a book. When she was very young, her father had often read to her at night before bed. Her favorite stories had been fairy tales. He’d liked those too.
That was always part of the problem. These guys were monsters on one hand, but they were also family men who fiercely loved and protected those around them. Her father loved her and her mother with deep conviction. She had never doubted that. But what he did to others…
Liv shuddered. The Hook had been a brutal killer.
She found an extra blanket in the hall closet and made a bed for Taz on her bedroom floor. Alfie would call when he could. She had plenty of work she could do to keep her mind off his warning about law enforcement being targeted by Frankie. Instead, she grabbed her laptop and logged in to several national databases. She started with Cooper Harris and began crosschecking him against the Fifty-seven Gang syndicate.
An hour later, the only hit she had was with Roman Walsh and the Domestic Terrorism Taskforce. They had brought down Uri Zion, a Russian mob leader, with the help of one Dr. Brooke Heaton, last fall. Part of the file was marked classified, but Olivia had no problem accessing the high clearance information with her code. She had to read one paragraph two times. It stated that Dr. Heaton was actually a relative of the Zion family. Who knew?
Apparently, Heaton hadn’t known the connection before working on the case. Liv could guess her reaction when she found out, and felt a natural bond to the woman, even though she didn’t know her. It wasn’t every day you discovered you were a mob princess.
These days, the Russian mafia was virtually incestuous with its American counterpart, the former enemies finding an uneasy truce as they worked together to increase their power and control in all parts of the world. Everyone vying for the same resources, right along with the terrorists, and the street and biker gangs.
While Dr. Heaton had assisted the SCVC Taskforce on occasion, she was not considered part of the team. Nothing else in the file suggested an overlap between Cooper and anyone associated with the Chicago Fifty-seven gang and their empire that had stretched into Vegas and California.
Next, she ran a check between Gino DeStefano and the Zions. Maybe there was some small connection that could be teased out and lead her to a potential suspect in the shooting. It was farfetched, but she had nothing else.
Eventually, she gave up. She couldn’t find any connection, not even a thin one. She washed up, found Taz curled on her bedroom floor, and read a text from Victor saying Cooper was out of surgery and in recovery. The operation had taken nearly four hours. Exhausted, she lay down on top of the covers and didn’t bother turning off the light.
Hearing the click of nails on the hardwood floor, she opened her eyes to find the dog sitting in the shadows beside her. “What’s up, Taz?”
Maybe he had to pee again. She’d never had a pet, although she’d toyed with the idea many times. She didn’t mind being independent, but she hated being alone at night.
She took him out once more, standing under a partial moon while the dog sniffed around and marked the yard in several places. Back inside, he went right to the spot next to the bed again and gave her the same look.
Too polite to jump onto the bed, he was well-trained. Probably by Victor.
Laying down once more, she patted the space next to her. “You’re not my first choice for a bed partner, but what the hell.”
Some time later, her burner rang, waking her from a dead sleep. She snatched it up and fumbled to answer it. “About time,” she yawned into the speaker.
“Hey,” Alfonso said, totally indignant. “I took my daughter to the movies. I’ve been through enough hell tonight with pink ponies and talking unicorns. Don’t give me grief.”
There it was…that humanness about him that made him less gangster and more normal. “You were right,” she played on his ego. “A law enforcement officer was targeted this afternoon.”
“No kidding? Somebody you knew?”
Knew. As in dead. She swung her feet off the bed and scratched Taz’s belly when he rolled over. “He’s still alive, and yes, I know him in passing.”
Alfie sounded surprised. “They didn’t kill him?”
“Missed his heart by a few centimeters from what I understand.”
“Huh.”
&nb
sp; “Any idea who did it?”
“You sure it was a hit? Nobody I know would miss. Maybe it wasn’t one of us.”
And she was the Holy Virgin. “It was a hit, all right, occurred right in front of his wife and daughter. Seems like a pretty clear message.”
Alfie grunted. “We ain’t the only ones to send those, doll, but if the shooter belongs to our group, he wouldn’t miss.”
It might not be related to the Fifty-seven Gang and DeStefano’s syndicate. All the evidence pointed to someone else. Sometimes, however, evidence could be cloudy. “You think it’s just a coincidence that you heard about a hit being put out on law enforcement shortly before one was shot by an unknown assailant?”
“Cops get shot every day.”
She paced to her bedroom window, containing her annoyance at his flippant attitude. “Have you heard anything more about Frankie’s plan?”
“All I know is that he’s got a boner for taking over the Suarez cartel and Gino’s given him the green light to do whatever he wants to either wipe them out or overthrow them. Fastest growing enterprise inside California at the moment, you know.”
“So why spend time taking out an agent? That’ll only put more heat on him.”
A cynical chuckle. “He ain’t worried about heat from you guys. He’s got scarier people breathing down his neck. I asked my guy over some raviolis and he said Frankie and Gino need to clear a path for this cartel.”
“Clear a path?”
“They have all the infrastructure the Fifty-seven Gang needs for buying and distributing a wide variety of products to certain clientele, if you get my drift. But it sounds like there’s some high-ranking guy, Fed probably, putting the screws to them.”
Everything in Olivia’s body froze. “Which Fed?”