by Misty Evans
“You should answer that,” she said, looking miserable. “It could be Celina or your friend from Homeland.”
“It’s my ex,” he confessed, wanting to keep things as honest as possible. “She’s worried about a stalker, but she’s fine, trust me. I’ve got someone watching her place.”
When Olivia wouldn’t look at him, he took her chin and raised it so she had to. “You’re the only one I’m worried about at the moment.”
She gave him a hint of a smile. “Your theory doesn’t make sense.”
He took his seat again. “Criminals do a lot of things that don’t make sense, right? But it’s not unusual for the mafia to work with other criminal organizations. They’ve done it with terrorist groups, both international and homegrown, as well as motorcycle gangs, and various other entities.”
Tap, tap, tap. She drummed her fingers against the glass before downing the brandy in one gulp. “True, but…if they are, what about Cooper’s shooting and the bomb meant for Thomas? Are both organizations involved?”
The brandy was warm on the back of his tongue. “Cooper spotted a King at the park before he was shot, and the guy seemed to be sizing him up. Maybe he was IDing Cooper for his counterpart in that building across the street.”
She fell quiet for a moment, the wheels turning. “Something my CI said keeps going ’round in my head. I asked him about Cooper’s shooting, and he said, ‘We never miss.’ So maybe it wasn’t one of the mafia guys, and it was indeed a King.”
His phone quit vibrating, Tracee’s call going to voicemail. “Roman’s group finally tracked down one of the members who has explosive experience and brought her in for questioning. She did not give up any specifics about the bomb under Thomas’s car, but she alluded to the hit squad going after Henry Valiant today. Roman called me just as I hit Los Angeles. The woman had not given specifics about who the hit was on, but I put two and two together, fearing exactly what happened.”
She sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. “And that one came back to make sure Valiant was dead. He tried to put a few bullets in me as well.”
He touched her shoulder, pushed some hair behind her ear. “But he didn’t.”
She raised her head and met his eyes. “Because you stopped him. I owe you my life.”
He was desperate to see her smile again. He gave her a cocky grin. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”
Her hand grabbed his and squeezed. She threaded her fingers through his. “I’m serious. Thank you.”
Coming out of his chair, he leaned forward and kissed her across the table. She tasted like the brandy and he wanted more, but held himself in check. She’d been through too much in the past few hours, so he placed his other hand behind her neck, gently cradling her sore skull. “My pleasure.”
She came out of the chair and into his arms. She kissed him, needy and demanding, her hands working over the muscles in his arms, his back.
He broke the kiss. “Liv, I was teasing. You really should take it easy.”
She sat on the table and wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him close as she untucked his shirt. “Screw that,” she said. “I’m pissed. I need to work off some anger.”
He should argue. Make her rest.
I really should.
Under her assault, though, the voice of reason in his brain went mute. Her tongue tangled with his, her hand cupping him through his pants and squeezing.
Yep, he was gone. Just like that. It was insane—he hadn’t had this much sex in ages.
Whatever she wanted, he would give her. He was so screwed.
I love her.
The thought hit him hard in the gut, but he didn’t have time to analyze it. She grabbed his hands and put them on her breasts, the soft light overhead making her skin glow. As he massaged the full mounds, his shirt lost a button from her ripping it open. Her lips found his skin, kissing and sucking on his pecs, his neck.
He divested her of her shirt and bra, loving the way her breasts bounced free. He laid her back on the table, trapping one luscious nipple in his mouth.
And then his damn phone started vibrating again.
For a minute, they both ignored it. When it didn’t stop, she pushed him gently away. “Your ex is as persistent as my CI. You better answer.”
Hating himself, he knew she was probably right. While Tracee was not his responsibility, this new stalker of hers might be. “She’s sure someone is following her, and unfortunately, after that picture went viral, I’m afraid it could be tied to this case.”
Olivia sat up and handed him his phone. “Then you definitely better take it. She could be in trouble.”
Doubtful with his friend watching her place, but maybe if he answered, he could put a stop to her calling.
As he answered, Olivia slid off the table, throwing her shirt on and grabbing her own phone. She left the kitchen, Taz following her.
“Yeah, Tracee, I’m sorry I didn’t get there tonight,” he said into his phone, “but something happened. I’ve already made sure you have plenty of police protection. My friend, Detective Gordon, is looking into the situation and keeping me updated. I’ll keep you apprised of anything he discovers, but so far, we all believe you’re safe.”
She sobbed into the phone. “You don’t understand, Vic. I need you!”
Drama. There had never been a lack of it with her.
Victor rubbed his tired eyes. “Tracee, if this is a ploy to get me back, I’m not going there with you. You’ve had stalkers before, and if you can’t give me more specifics than you think someone is watching you, there is nothing I can do. I’ll do my best to come by in the next couple of days, but I’m in the middle of a very serious investigation, and you have plenty of people to help you with this.”
The crying lasted several long moments, meant to wear him down. He’d been through this before and knew the way she used emotions to manipulate others. It was one of the things that made her such a good actress.
The sobbing tapered off, and then she whispered, “Goodbye, Victor.”
The connection went dead. He blew out a deep breath, slightly uneasy about the finality in her voice. He would have plenty of eyes on her, and if it appeared her stalker was real and had anything to do with the mafia or cartel, he would make sure she was put in protective custody until he wrapped everything up. At the moment, from everything he’d seen and heard, there was no substance to her fear, and nothing he could divert more resources to. Luckily, Gordon was a good friend and willing to keep an eye on Tracee because of it.
Victor went looking for Liv and Taz and found them upstairs in his bedroom. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, talking to whomever she’d dialed, and the dog lay at her feet. “Thank you, Alfonzo. I will pass that information on… Yes, I told you, I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern.” She glanced at Victor and rolled her eyes. “Sure, I’ll see you for dinner next week.”
She disconnected and tossed it on the nightstand. “Alfie knew about the hit on Valiant today. He called me six times this afternoon, trying to let me know. He had no idea I was one of the deputy marshals escorting Valiant to and from the courthouse, but claims he wanted to prove he’s helping me. Oh, and he has it on good authority that it was indeed Frankie who set up the hit.”
It was after eleven. He didn’t want to wait until the sun came up to go after Molina, but Olivia was beat and he wasn’t leaving her. “First thing in the morning, I need to pay Frankie a visit.”
She shrugged off her shirt and started undoing her pants. “One more thing, Alfie confirmed Frankie arranged the hit on Cooper.”
Victor felt a sudden shift, a little buzz inside him that meant the case had turned the corner and a successful end was in sight. “He has proof?”
“So he claims, but he wouldn’t tell me what or how he got it.”
“I need that before I go see Molina.”
“I’ll get it, but you’re not going to talk to Molina alone. I’m going with you.�
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They’d see about that, but for now, if it made her happy, he’d let her think she was his partner.
He helped her out of the rest of her clothes and into his bed. She watched him undress with hungry eyes, raising her hands above her head and showing him her breasts above the sheet.
He crawled in beside her, skimming his hands up her arms and catching his fingers in her hair to bring her face closer to his. “Now, where were we?”
Their bodies came together with the same fiery passion, both shutting out their exhaustion in an effort to forget what happened only hours earlier and to prove to themselves, as well as each other, they were still alive.
12
The next morning, Olivia found Victor sitting on his deck, the dog running around the yard sniffing and digging. Victor was on the phone, and it sounded like he was speaking to Thomas as he went down the list of taskforce members. “How is Ronni?” Pause. “Good. Mitch still okay watching Cooper and Celina?” Pause. “What about Nelson and Sophia? Nothing unusual going on there?”
He was dressed in baggy PJ pants and nothing else, his broad shoulders and chest exposed to the morning sun. Olivia stepped out onto the worn wooden deck in her bare feet, buttoning Victor’s shirt that she’d picked up off the floor. It smelled like his soap and she loved being wrapped in it.
She was sore from her tumble on the concrete at the courthouse and had a nice bruise on her left hip and shoulder. The back of her head was tender as well, but at least she didn’t have a headache. Victor had done a good job doctoring the scratches on her face, although she looked like she’d been in a catfight. She’d already checked in with the hospital and they’d told her Danny was in stable condition. She planned to drop by and visit later in the day.
As she stood there listening to the soft rumble of his voice, she glanced back at the house. Everything was in disarray, so unlike the director. Her eyes caught on the dining room table, barely visible from this angle. There was a box pushed to one side and papers everywhere. The box was labeled “Ansel Dupé.” Had to be the case notes from his father’s murder case.
Once this current situation was resolved, she’d help him with it—if he’d let her.
Heading to Victor, she dropped a kiss on his forehead. He grabbed her arm, giving her a squeeze and pulling her face down for a kiss. He was strong and muscular, and she ran her fingers over his chest.
“Sounds good,” he said into the phone. “Meanwhile, I’m going to question Frankie Molina at some point today…Yeah, Olivia’s CI claims to have some damning information pointing to him being the one who set up the hit on Henry Valiant yesterday. It’s possible Molina is also involved in Cooper’s shooting.”
They discussed Frankie for another minute as Olivia walked into the yard to see Taz. There wasn’t much grass, most having died under the hot sun with only sand to grow in. Taz had it all over his nose and paws. “You’re going to need a bath,” she said to him.
When Victor hung up, she made her way back to the patio. “No coffee?”
He looked tired, a couple days’ worth of beard on his chin. “I haven’t found the box with the coffee maker in it yet. I usually grab a cup on the way to the office.”
She reached for his hand and pulled him out of the chair. “Come on, let’s find it.”
Inside, he used a towel to get the worst of the sand off the dog’s feet, and they began ripping open boxes in their quest for caffeine. As they went, Olivia pulled out other kitchen items, and ended up organizing one shelf with spices. Then she found plates and put those on a different shelf.
Victor found dishtowels and used one to smack her on the ass when she was reaching to place a glass on a high shelf. She grabbed another and started a war with him, laughing at the fact he was a better shot, but was so obviously taking it easy on her, worried about her scratches and bruises.
It was an accident that she found the coffee maker, tripping over a box and knocking it on its side. The contents spilled out, and luckily, the carafe did not break. “Hey, look at that. I found it.”
“Now if I can find the coffee,” Victor said.
Olivia was slightly dismayed at the state of the coffee maker. It was nothing fancy, that was for sure, and she was even more appalled when Victor handed her a bag of grocery store ground coffee beans. She gave him a horrified look. “You can’t be serious. That’s not coffee, that’s garbage.”
He held up a finger. “Wait, Celina gave me some Cuban coffee at Christmas.”
Well, that was better, even though it had to be at least four months old.
He looked at the disaster the kitchen had turned into. All the boxes were open now and no Cuban coffee in sight. “Maybe it’s in the living room.”
They made their way down the hall, finding Taz asleep on the couch. He barely opened his eyes as they started going through those boxes.
“Have you checked on your partner?” Victor asked.
“He’s in stable condition. They’re only letting family see him right now, but I hope to talk to him later today.”
He pulled a blue foil bag from a box. “Aha! Here it is.”
Taz sat up at the excitement and the three of them filed back into the kitchen, the dog sniffing at the mess.
“Remind me to buy you a new coffee pot for your birthday,” Olivia said. “Something that actually can make a decent drink.”
He filled the carafe as she loaded the filter with grounds. “I beg your pardon? What’s wrong with this one?”
“Hey, I’m Italian. I want a machine that makes more than watered-down coffee. It should do espresso shots, and have the ability to froth milk for lattes.”
“Guess I’m not home that much to have fancy stuff,” he said, pouring the water in.
She put her hands on his waist. “We need to change that.”
They made out while the coffee brewed. When it was done, Victor broke away and grabbed two mugs, filling each to the top. The smell was full-bodied and strong, just the way Olivia liked it, although the Cuban blend was different than her normal morning sustenance.
“Your confidential informant?” Victor leaned on the counter across from her. “I need to talk to him and find out exactly what he has on Frankie. Getting to Frankie will be challenging. I don’t want to give all our intel away until we have an arrest warrant, but I need to be sure I have something damning before I talk to him.”
She blew on the hot liquid. “Do you think it’s wise to tip our hand to Frankie before we’re ready to arrest him?”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take to put pressure on him. I want him to know I’m coming for him, and the sooner the better, since we don’t have much time officially for our special taskforce to make progress on this case. Right now, we have extra resources and some leeway with the rules, but that ends by tomorrow morning.”
She admired his shoot-from-the-hip style. She’d always approached her targets in the opposite manner, sneaking around and digging up evidence against them before blindsiding them with arrest warrants and handcuffs. “I can set something up with Alfie, but he may only talk to me. He’s not exactly friendly with FBI agents, and I don’t want him to clam up completely.”
Victor nodded. “I don’t want to step on your toes, so if you can obtain the evidence on your own, go for it. This guy cares for you, doesn’t he?”
All her conflicted feelings about her father and Alfie came rushing to the surface like acid on the back of her tongue. “It’s a complicated situation because of my family background. This guy seems to think we have some kind of bond because of the mafia connection, but I’m sure he would throw me under the bus without hesitation. I’ve only pretended to be friendly because of the information he’s been feeding me.” And his sauce is pretty good. “Half the time, I’m not sure the intel is legit, but enough has proved out that I tend to believe him. He hates Frankie as much as I do, and I’m sure he would love to get him and Gino out of the way so he could take over.”
“So Marquita was r
ight? Alfie thinks he can run the syndicate on his own? With all the intelligence he’s given you, he doesn’t think you’ll throw him in prison?”
“He knows I’ll never let him become king of the hill. The Justice Department has already agreed to put him and his daughter in the witness protection program if he testifies against Gino when this all goes down. Maybe at one point, he wanted to take over, but he’s smart enough to know that’s never going to happen.”
“What kind of proof do you think he has in relation to yesterday’s shooting?”
“He wouldn’t tell me over the phone, but I will get it for you, and then we can go pay a visit to Frankie.”
“I’d prefer you sit that one out and let me handle him.”
“No dice.” She took the cup and headed for the stairs to take a shower. “If you want to use my CI to get your evidence,” she said over her shoulder, “you get me as a sidekick when you talk to Frankie.”
“Package deal, huh?” he called after her, following her up the stairs.
It was kind of like the coffee and the coffee maker. “Yep. You can’t have one without the other.”
He caught up to her and smacked her playfully on the ass. “You drive a hard bargain, but I guess I have no choice.”
No, he didn’t. She needed Alfie to come through and she planned to help Victor solve the shooting and bombing. It was the only way she could counter the truth about her secret investigation and hope he would forgive her.
Regardless, she was definitely putting an end to her investigation for the JD, and if they wanted her to take down the Fifty-seven Gang, they better get happy about it.
Package deal, she told herself. One way or the other, she was getting exactly what she wanted—Victor, and the demise of the West Coast mafia once and for all.
Alfonso Barone lived in Oceanside, but chose a meeting place several blocks from the harbor. As Victor sat in his car fifty feet away from the shack of a bar, listening to Olivia’s conversation with the mobster, he could imagine the smell of stale beer and fried clams. The background noise consisted of multiple conversations, raucous laughter, and the clink and bang of glasses and silverware, even though they were meeting in a private backroom.