by Misty Evans
Using her fingers, she zoomed in, bringing Tracee’s lower legs and feet in view. Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly left the browser and went to her photos.
“Well, I’ll be damned. This is not good. Not good at all.”
She closed out the photos and, with her elbow on the door, dropped her head in her hand for a moment. Then she dialed Victor’s number.
He needed to know what his ex was up to.
The call went to voicemail and Olivia swore under her breath. She sent him a text, asking him to call her immediately, but before she was done, someone tapped on her window, making her jump.
When she saw who, all the air left her lungs.
She dropped the phone.
The man on the other side smiled and gave her an innocent wave. He wore a ball cap, pulled low over his brow, and sunglasses, but there was no mistaking who he was.
Frozen in place, Olivia didn’t know what to do. Her heart felt like it was beating in her throat, her mind suddenly blank.
The man motioned for her to roll down the window. Trepidation swam through her. Should she? Or put the car in gear and get the hell away from him?
Shoving down the shock, she cracked the window a couple of inches.
The man’s smile grew wider. He removed the sunglasses, his eyes slowly scanning her face before coming back to meet her gaze. “Hello, baby girl.”
She swallowed hard. The hair visible under the cap had grayed since the last time she’d seen him and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes had grown deeper.
It took three tries for her to find her voice. “Hello, daddy.”
The rain came down in sheets, drenching Victor’s windshield. The wipers could barely keep up, even though he was idling at the curb outside the high-end wine bar Tracee loved. He’d tried to get her to meet him here, but she claimed she had a migraine and couldn’t leave her penthouse.
Roman slid into the passenger seat, swearing and dripping. “You could’ve picked a better night for this.”
The storm had come up quickly, turning the streets to fast flowing streams. Few people were out, and those that insisted on braving the storm wrestled with their umbrellas as the wind tried to invert them. “I appreciate your help with this.”
“You think the stalker might be one of the Kings?”
Victor tapped a thumb on the steering wheel. “In all honesty, I’m not sure there is a stalker at all. Something isn’t right about this. I spoke to Tracee’s publicist, manager, and several others on her team, and none know anything about this supposed stalker. The security agency has no alert, and I spoke to Tracee’s regular bodyguard earlier, and he hadn’t seen anything unusual, nor had she mentioned being concerned or scared.”
Roman wiped his face off with a hand. “I saw the tabloids. Is she trying to get you back?”
“Initially, I thought that might be the case. We were together four years, and we’ve now been separated for over three. Why she would wait that long is beyond me. I don’t believe that’s the reason.”
“Maybe it took her a while to realize she’s really in love with you.”
Love. It caused people to do a lot of crazy things, but he suspected there was another reason. He needed to resolve this and get to Olivia. He’d told her he’d meet her in two hours, and he was already running late. As soon as he wrapped this up, he’d call and let her know to grab the extra key from his neighbor, Mrs. Preston, and let herself in.
Should have told her to do that in the first place.
He just hadn’t known how this situation with his ex was going to play out, and there was so much riding on the line right now. His taskforce members were still in danger, his boss was not putting any pressure on the judge for an arrest warrant for Frankie, and Tracee had been calling him nonstop all afternoon.
Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed as if mirroring the raging storm in his work and personal lives.
Tracee had sounded sick when he’d spoken to her earlier that evening. Or maybe strung out. “I think my ex is tied up with drug dealers. I’m not sure whether it has anything to do with the Kings or the mafia, but my gut is telling me something is wrong with the whole setup.”
Roman sat back, wiping his wet hands on his pant legs. “Off the record, I had Polly check Tracee’s emails and recent phone calls. None were to any known criminals.”
Victor shot him a look. “You illegally accessed my ex’s emails and phone calls?”
“I prefer the term preemptive to illegal. As a Homeland employee, I have wide permissions to investigate anyone I believe is in contact with criminals involved in terrorist activities, but it’s probably better you pretend I didn’t tell you about the invasion of privacy.”
In some ways, it was a relief Roman and his group hadn’t found any direct contact with the mafia or cartel. “When we were together, she used a burner phone to contact her drug dealer.”
“Well, there’s still a chance she isn’t being completely honest with you, and neither of us wants to walk in blind. I canvassed the neighborhood on the way here, but I’ll do another drive-by before you go up. Are you wired?”
Victor handed him the receiver. He wore the same wire that Olivia had with Alfonso. “We should be good to go.”
Roman nodded and slipped it inside a jacket pocket. “What’s the code word?”
Victor chuckled at the old school tactic. “How about ‘help?’”
Under the glow of the streetlight, the HS agent looked disappointed. “Kinda tame, but if that’s what you want, okay.”
Roman grabbed the door handle. “I’ll park as close to the building as I can, but they won’t let me in downstairs unless I flash my badge since I don’t know anyone who lives there. If you suspect anything, don’t be shy about using the signal so I have time to bust in and back you up, partner.”
Victor truly hoped he didn’t need it.
Raising a girl in this day and age was harder than planning a coup of a mob syndicate.
Alfie listened to his daughter crying on the other end of the line and silently swore he was going to round up the bullies in her class and teach them all a lesson. “Mary Margaret, you know what I told you about those girls being jealous of you. That’s why they say those things. You can’t listen to them.”
Several girls were harassing her again, and come morning, Alfie would make sure it stopped, one way or another. Either the school was going to take action or he was.
Tracee Tyson sat on her couch, staring at her big-screen TV but not seeming to see it. She’d already gone through what he’d given her the other night and was in the midst of withdrawal. Junkies were always easiest to manipulate when they needed a hit, and Alfie had decided it was time to use the hand dealt him.
Goddamn me to hell if I raise a daughter as stupid as Tracee.
It took another minute to calm down Mary Margaret and get her off the phone, including several promises to bring home her favorite ice cream. He would do anything for his daughter, and those little brats at school we’re going to learn a lesson about messing with her. Their parents weren’t going to enjoy it either, because God help him, they were as bad as the kids anymore.
Tucking the phone away, he checked the handgun he’d brought for Tracee. Thanks to a friend, it was registered in her name and backdated to 2016. Everything was in place to take down the FBI director, and it would look like his ex-girlfriend had done the deed before turning the gun on herself.
He wasn’t the first in his family to have helped a famous actress die tragically with drugs in her veins, and Alfie hoped this little gig would go off without a hitch. The killing part he didn’t mind, but he was a little squeamish about the blood—unbeknownst to anyone in the syndicate—and he had to be sure he took Victor by surprise.
He added a silencer and double-checked his props. Everything was in place and the director was due any minute. As soon as he had Dupé out of the way, Olivia would be all his.
He’d heard through one of his sources th
at Felix “The Hook” was already in town, looking for his daughter. Alfie had not been expecting this latest complication, but he would deal with it as soon as he was done with Dupé. Olivia would have no one left. She’d be vulnerable and looking to avenge Victor’s death, not believing for a moment it was a scorned ex-lover who’d killed him.
And that’s where Alfie would come in, sprinkling a few pieces of evidence pointing at Gino and Frankie and sealing the last two nails in the coffin. Somewhere down the road, he would complete his vision of the future by enticing Olivia to run his new syndicate with him. She craved power and justice; he could give her both.
“I…,” Tracee rose from the couch, staring at him with cloudy eyes. Her hands shook as she wrung them. “I can’t do this.”
Here we go again. Leave it to Victor to have an ex with morals. “We’ve been over this, Tracee, and the deal is the same. You don’t have a choice.” With some people, he found the best way to recruit them was appeal to their emotions. “This guy doesn’t care about you or he would’ve never left you. You need him and all he’s done is blow you off. If he really cared about you, he’d have come to see you several days ago, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he be concerned about your safety? No, he’s too busy hanging out with his new girlfriend. It’s time you stopped letting him run all over you and push you around. All you have to do is get him inside, lock the door, and let me do the rest.”
Her strung out eyes dropped to the gun. “What’s that for?”
“Protection.” He put it out of sight behind his back. “You don’t worry about that. All you have to do is get him in, so I can talk to him, that’s all we’re going to do,” he lied.
Her bottom lip trembled. “And then I’ll get unlimited coke?”
Weak women were a real turn off. Weak people in general. But that’s what drugs did, making them vulnerable and easy to manipulate. “Lifetime supply guaranteed.”
She nodded hesitantly and plopped back down on the sofa once more watching some stupid reality show. It was going to be a relief to pop her a good one and never have to deal with her again.
Never have to deal with Victor Dupé again.
A musical note went off, alerting her that the front desk was calling. Tracee looked at him and he gave her the nod to answer. She spoke to her invisible virtual assistant. “Yes, Ian?” She had named the damn thing after her favorite actor. “What is it?”
A deep male voice responded, sounding like a real person. “You have a visitor at the front desk. Victor Dupé.”
“Send him up.”
Alfie gave her one more pep talk. “You’ve got this. Get him inside, lock the door, and offer him a glass of wine or whatever. Keep him occupied until I come out, got it?”
She headed for the door, saying nothing to him, but muttering under her breath. “Everything will be okay. I’m a great actress. I can do this.”
Before he slipped around the corner out of sight, he heard her whisper, “I’m sorry, Vic. Please forgive me.”
14
It was a sad day when you couldn’t invite your own father back to your place because you were scared of him.
Olivia sat with her dad, staring out at the beach from inside her car. Waves crashed against the rocky shoreline, rain pounding against the windows. The streetlights had already come on, throwing muted light across the dashboard.
Even with the hat and sunglasses, she couldn’t take the chance anyone would recognize him, so she’d driven through the city and to the coastline, where they could sit and see the ocean. A part of her yearned to get as far away from him as possible, but she had to deal with the situation. The question was, how? She was a law enforcement agent and he was a felon breaking parole by leaving the state. She was also his daughter, and no matter what, she wasn’t going to send him back to jail before hearing him out.
Ten years ago, she’d been ready to graduate high school when he’d been arrested. She’d actually had her gown on and was standing in line to walk onstage when the cops pulled up, sirens blaring, and cuffed him there in front of everyone.
He’d missed that and so many other important moments in her life. Not that he’d been around for many previous to his incarceration, but she had held out hope all those years that somehow she could make him change his ways. That by being the perfect daughter, he’d realize how important it was to her that he become a law-abiding citizen and stop killing people.
See how that worked out?
“I thought your hearing wasn’t until Wednesday. How did you get out early?”
“What, you think I escaped?” He started. “Always thinking the worst of me, huh? Now, why would I go to all that trouble if they were planning to parole me?”
“Just answer the question. How is it that you’re sitting here when you should still be in a federal prison in Chicago?”
Her dad looked amused. “I have my ways.”
He acted as if this was a joke, like they were sitting around on a Sunday afternoon teasing each other.
When she didn’t respond other than to glare at him, he relented. “They bumped me up, that’s all. I had my meeting yesterday, and I have friends who owe me plenty of favors. They helped me out.”
Like helping him get to California? Someone probably flew him in on their private jet. “The day after you’re released, you violate parole and cross state lines to come here? I should call your PO.”
“Always one for rules and regulations.” His accent was more Chicago than East Coast. “I came for you, Livvy.”
That was not exactly reassuring. “I don’t need you.”
He reacted like she had slapped him across the face. “You need protection.”
“I need a better explanation, or I will call and report you. I’m breaking the law by not turning you in. They could have my badge for this.”
He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the wild ocean for a moment before turning serious eyes on her. “Do you want to take down Gino DeStefano or not?”
Of course she did, but was selling her soul to her own father worth it? He definitely had something up his sleeve, and she doubted it had anything to do with protecting her. “What exactly do you think I need protection from?”
“Not what, who. You’re dealing with dangerous people.”
Tell me something I don’t know. “You’re an expert on them, aren’t you, dad?”
He didn’t like being mocked, especially by his own daughter. His upper lip screwed up and he reared back in the seat. “I’ve made mistakes. Never said I was a saint. But I take care of my own, and I know a few things about what you’re doing. This man you’re using to get information on Gino and Frankie is a dangerous fellow. He’ll stop at nothing to become boss, and he’s using you to help him.”
“Using me?” He had her attention, but she was still reluctant to believe anything he said, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t know Alfie was untrustworthy. “How?”
“How much do you know about Alfonso Barone?”
“You think I don’t know the man I’m working with to take down Gino and Frankie? That I’m gullible and letting him manipulate me?”
“You always did your homework, even when you were a kid. I suppose you know a lot, but like I said, I have friends. Friends in the know about him and what he’s up to.”
Why did every conversation feel like a sparring match? “What’s he up to, Dad?”
“The Suarez Kings weren’t after Henry Valiant, Olivia.”
A sick feeling clawed its way into her stomach. It warred there with apprehension that he was the one manipulating her, like he’d done so many times before. “Enlighten me, then. Who were they there for?”
“You.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or give into the chill creeping over her skin. “And you think Alfie sent them after me?”
Her father nodded.
“That’s an interesting theory, especially since Alfie called six times to warn me there was going to be a hit at the courthouse.”
> “Is that so? Why six?”
“Because I didn’t…” answer. Alfie refused to leave messages because he claimed they could be used against him. But how did she know for sure he had indeed planned to tell her about the hit? “I have intel that Frankie planned to kill Valiant and sent six of the Suarez Kings to take him out.”
“Did that come from Barone?”
Dammit. How did he know? “I’m not stupid, Dad. I don’t trust Alfie any more than I do you.”
He blanched. “The Kings weren’t meant to kill you, but they were supposed to hurt you. He wanted them to scare you a little, and kill Valiant, of course.”
The temperature in the car had dropped several degrees, the windows beginning to fog. Olivia started the car and hit defrost, turning up the temperature. Her fingers were cold, and she held them to the vent. “Why in the hell would he want to scare me? I’m his ticket to witness protection when he testifies against his bosses.”
Her father gave a shrug. “My guess? Barone wanted to play your shining knight riding in on his white horse afterward, except your FBI friend came to the rescue and superseded him.”
“Shining knight?”
“If you see him as a good guy, you’re less likely to stand in his way when he takes over.”
“Takes over the Fifty-seven Gang? He’s going to testify against Gino and Frankie, and then disappear with his daughter. He’s not taking over anything, except maybe some beach in a warm climate.”
Her dad rubbed a hand over his face and she could tell his patience was waning. “Do you know who killed Barone’s wife?”
“She died in a car accident.”
“It was made to look like that, but that was the handiwork of Frankie Molina. Lorenzo Barone crossed Frankie back in the day and Frankie took revenge. Not by wiping out Lorenzo or his son, but by taking out Lorenzo’s daughter-in-law only a few short months after she gave birth, letting Lorenzo know he could wipe out the entire family. The whole thing was staged, Olivia, and Alfonso knows it. That’s the real reason he joined Gino and Frankie—revenge. Got nothing to do with holding Lorenzo’s spot until he’s out of the tank. It’s taken Alfonzo a few years to move up the line, and I think he initially wanted to usurp Frankie, become consigliere to Gino, but Frankie’s tough. Tougher than Alfonzo expected. Frankie B got where he is as Gino’s right-hand man because he’s a cruel, demanding bastard. He doesn’t have any weaknesses, not one, and Barone knows it. Alfonzo doesn’t want to simply send them to prison and shut down the syndicate. He plans to take both men out, and every single person they care about.”