by Misty Evans
She was getting relationship advice from her father—the irony was almost too much. On the flip side, he and her mother were celebrating their thirty-fifth anniversary soon, and had obviously been through some pretty traumatic experiences together.
She looked at Victor, who now stood at the window, shoulders thrown back and feet planted, as though ready to take on the entire world.
Her dad followed her gaze. “You and the director, huh? He doesn’t care you’re a hitman’s daughter? Did you tell him?”
Oh, Lord. “Of course, I did. He doesn’t hold it against me.”
“His dad was one of those union guys back in the 80s, wasn’t he?”
She cut her gaze to him. “Wait. You knew him?”
Another page flip. “I had to come out and do some business back then for Ralphie. Set up a couple clubs for local contractors. If I remember right, Dupé was part manager of one of the big concrete companies. He and the owners resisted joining.”
Everything in Olivia went very still. The “clubs” her father was referring to extorted payoffs from the heads of companies. If the owners refused to pay, the mafia threatened them with physical harm or labor disruption.
If Victor’s father had been part of the resistance, then it may have been why he ended up dead. “Please tell me you did not…”
Victor appeared in front of them, sliding his phone into his pocket. His voice was low, controlled, almost automated. “Can I speak to you alone for a moment, Liv?”
She felt a sudden heat rush over her, an old but familiar guilt that her father might be responsible for yet another murder that had ruined someone’s life, a whole family’s life. She stood slowly, feeling slightly shaky as she did. “Of course.”
She followed him to the far corner. The normal light in his eyes was gone. He spiked a hand through his hair and she saw a muscle jumping in his tight jaw. “The judge is going to let me round up the courthouse shooters, but I’m guessing they’ve already gone to ground, especially if Alfie is behind all of this. Roman is meeting me at the address Barone gave you. It may be bogus, and could actually be a trap, but I wanted to ask if you want in on it.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need. If you want to stay here until Tracee is out of surgery, I can help Roman.”
“I don’t think I can stand here and do nothing any longer. One of Roman’s people looked into Tracee’s recent communications and could find no link to Barone, but I’m guessing there’s a burner phone in her apartment. I want to go back there and search the place thoroughly.”
If Tracee was truly the woman Alfie had spoken to on the phone, then there had to be a burner.
“Why don’t I go to the apartment while you and Roman check out the address and find the shooters?” And while she was at it, she was going to hunt down Alfie and threaten his balls to see if she could get the truth from him. Had he been the man who shot Tracee? If not, he still might know who had. It was a stretch, but Olivia still held hope he wasn’t orchestrating all of this. “That way, we can cover two places at once.”
He dipped his chin. “I do not want you meeting with Barone in person anymore.”
Had he read her mind? “I need to find out exactly what his involvement in this is. If he’s the man behind yesterday’s firing squad, and Tracee’s shooting, I’m arresting him as soon as I get my hands on him.”
“I have no doubts he’s behind everything that has happened this week, which means he’s extremely dangerous, Liv. You are not to engage until I have the official arrest warrant, and then he is mine.”
She understood his desire to catch the person responsible for everything, but if anyone was arresting Alfie, it was her. “If he’s guilty,” she said, “then he’s been playing me all along. He used me to get to you, just like he used Tracee. Plus, he was totally leading me on about testifying against Gino and Frankie. That means I have no case against them. Months and months of investigating, and all I have is circumstantial evidence that will not put them in prison for life. If Alfie has been betraying me all along, I will be the one slapping the cuffs on him.”
Victor started to argue, but before he could, her father cleared his throat loudly, catching their attention. A doctor stood in the doorway.
The look on the man’s face told Olivia all she needed to know, and her heart sank.
“Mr. Dupé? I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “We did everything we could, and she was a fighter, but in the end, she couldn’t overcome the damage done by the bullet. It struck one of her ribs, sending shrapnel into her heart along with pieces of bone, puncturing it in multiple places.”
Victor’s face was impassive except for the nerve that jumped in his jaw. His voice was barely above a murmur as he said, “Thank you, doctor.”
A sympathetic nod. “I’ve already alerted her agent who is informing her family.”
The doctor left, and Victor turned away from all of them, his grief and anger taking him back to the window.
Olivia joined him, wanting to comfort him, but sensing his need to stay contained and controlled. One touch could set him off, make him lose it. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Down below, local news vans gathered, along with paparazzi. Many of Tracee’s fans who’d heard the news had started filing onto the sidewalks and into the parking lot closest to the front entrance. “This is my fault,” he said. “I should have taken it more seriously the first time she called me.”
“You looked into it, but there was no evidence she had a stalker. She wasn’t being honest, Victor, and put herself in this position. If she’s the woman Alfie met, she was buying drugs from him. Earlier that evening, I overheard him talking to her on the phone, and he told her to do whatever it took to get close to some guy. Originally, I thought it was Frankie, like I told you, but it was you. I’ve been sitting here thinking, going over all of these different scenarios, and whatever Alfie’s end goal, he’s attacking those you feel responsible for. If I were you, I’d get protection on your mother and sisters.”
Victor’s gaze snapped to hers. “You don’t think…?”
But he didn’t wait for her response, digging out his phone and dialing.
Olivia resumed her seat next to her dad as Victor ordered police protection for his family. “Tell me you did not kill Victor’s father,” she said softly under her breath.
“Nah, not me. I never met the guy, but I heard about him. He was murdered on Mother’s Day. Can you believe it? That generation that came up during the 80s turned everything on its head. A bunch of reckless kids, trying to be big shots. Showing up their elders, reducing friendship and respect to nothing more than dust under my shoe.”
She did not know if it still held true, but it used to be that the mafia did not work on Mother’s Day. It was one more irony of syndicated crime. Her father was a killer, but he came from a world that still valued a warped sense of honor within the family, and would rather die than break the code of silence surrounding their criminal activities when questioned by law enforcement.
“Do you know who killed him?”
Her dad tossed the magazine on the side table. “Eh, I can probably find out. Why? Is it that important to you?”
Olivia glanced at Victor, still standing by the window, one hand massaging his temples as he called his family members to explain the situation. She had never seen him look scared, not even during the hostage situation at the hospital when she met him. But now? His body practically vibrated with the need to protect his family. “Yeah, it is.”
“I’ll put out some feelers, see what I can find out.”
If she could give Victor closure on his father’s murder when this was all done, it’d be worth whatever price she had to pay, even asking her dad for a favor. “Thank you.”
Her dad raised a brow but shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think there is.”
The slightest tremor of his lips suggested a smile. “Name it, Livvy.”
&n
bsp; “Come on.” She stood and pulled him up by his shirt sleeve. “You’re going to help me double cross a certain mafia gangster.”
Yep, it was hell raising a kid these days, especially a girl. Even worse, raising her without a mother.
Alfie sat on his deck with a tumbler of scotch, the night shadows deep as he looked over the lights of the city. His daughter had gone to bed crying, upset over some stupid text from one of her friends, after he’d slipped both of them inside the house.
After this was over, he was putting her in a private school, away from the LA trash. She was sensitive, and longed to be a writer someday, so maybe he could find one of those artsy schools where she would feel more at home.
A matter of days. His plan was falling into place, although the specifics had changed slightly. He’d spoon-fed the evidence to Olivia, framing Frankie without giving her more than necessary. Soon, he would hand her the final nail for Frankie and Gino’s coffins. In the process, he’d kept Dupé busy and let him see just how close he could get to those the director cared about. Tonight’s showdown had not gone as planned, but nothing was lost. Tracee wouldn’t be telling on him, and while the director was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long.
The scotch eased his frayed nerves, his mind building the next scenario, locking in his place as the most powerful man on the West Coast. LA was going to be the biggest challenge, but the Kings would make sure he had the manpower. In exchange, he’d help expand their drug business up to San Francisco and down to San Diego, ending their biggest competition.
His phone rang. He let it. After three rings, it went dead. A minute passed, and it rang three times again.
Olivia.
She was no doubt calling about Tracee Tyson. Again.
He finished his scotch before returning the call. When she answered, he played it cool. “Did you catch any of those bastards from the other night, marshal?”
Her voice was tense. “Working on it. Where are you?”
“Home, dealing with a hysterical thirteen-year-old girl who didn’t get invited to a friend’s birthday party, and then was texted by the so-called friend, telling her to quit being a whiny baby and go kill herself. Got to tell you, kids these days. Someone ought to smack her upside the head.”
“The world is a brutal place. You want me to talk to her?”
He sat up, placing his glass on the table next to him. She wanted to come over? Not exactly what he’d expected, but he needed to pretend he’d been home all evening. Maybe if he got her here, he could work on his plan of seducing her. She was a tough one. And not only because they were on opposite sides of the law. Her father had sure done a number on her head.
Still, it meant a lot that she’d consider talking to his daughter. “You’d do that?”
“I picked up some of that wine you like and thought maybe we could discuss the Suarez Kings in more detail. Have you seen the news?”
“With all the drama in my house tonight? Why? What happened?”
“Tracee Tyson was murdered in her penthouse. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He frowned into the dark shadows below the deck. Why did she suspect he would know about it? Had he inadvertently left something behind that would tie him to it? “The actress? She’s dead?”
A strained silence followed before Olivia said, “I think it was one of the Kings. A drug deal gone bad. A couple of his pals were watching the front entrance and tried to take out a Homeland agent.”
Alfie relaxed, his frown turning into a smile. Another thing the Kings were good for was taking the fall for pretty much everything. “Jesus, they’re getting ballsy. What was a Homeland agent doing there? They got terrorists in the hotel?”
“Can we talk about this in person?”
He puffed out his lips and made a soft sighing sound. “Sure, doll, but honestly, it’s been a long day and it’s not over yet in the teenage drama department. I may not be able to talk much about what happened unless we get Mary Margaret calmed down.”
“I’ll bring some Ben & Jerry’s. That’ll take the edge off.”
She really would make a great mother for his girl. “A female touch is what she needs, I’ll admit it. She may be daddy’s girl, but she could use a woman to confide in.”
Olivia sounded confident. “I’m on my way.”
“This is the mic I’ll be wearing,” Olivia told her father, showing the small device to him and handing him the receiver. “You can listen to everything Alfie and I say, and it will be recorded.”
He took it. “I know how it works. I wish you’d let me go in and talk to the SOB. He wouldn’t be the first person I got information out of.”
“Are you serious right now? Don’t even go there, Dad.”
She fastened the top button of her shirt, making sure the microphone was sufficiently hidden in her cleavage. “Whatever you do, do not get out of the car. No matter what happens, you are not to engage anyone or anything. I don’t care if you hear Alfie threaten to kill me, you are not to storm the house or call attention to yourself in any way. I will handle whatever comes up, and I need you to have faith in my abilities.”
“Jeez, I do, all right? We may look at the world differently, Olivia, but there’s one thing I’ve always known about you, and that is you are my child. You exceed at everything you put your mind to. But I will not promise to sit by and let Barone kill you. If he so much as threatens the hair on your head, I will be inside that house before he can blink and they’ll be the last words he ever utters.”
She stared at him. He stared back. Two bullheaded people who loved each other but would never be on the same page. Olivia wasn’t even sure they were on the same planet most of the time. “You know, I never doubted your love for me. I know you tried to protect me, and I appreciate that, but I don’t need you standing up for me anymore.”
“You’re my daughter and I’m always going to stand up for you.”
“If you interfere in this investigation, it could go badly for both of us.”
He looked completely disgusted. “I won’t unless I need to, but don’t think for a moment that I’ll sit here and do nothing if that bastard threatens you. He is dan-ger-ous.”
In that moment, something in her shifted. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it felt…better. Lighter. There were so many holes in her heart when it came to her father, and yet, his standing up for her and insisting on protecting her—regardless of her demands for him to stand down—made her want to smile. He was overbearing and pushy, but sometimes a girl needed that in her life, especially from her father.
“I won’t let it get that far, okay?” She needed to make sure he understood her goal with this. “I know Alfie well enough to understand his hot buttons and avoid his triggers. While I want nothing more than to simply slip the cuffs on him and bring him in, this is a fishing expedition only. I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s guilty, but I don’t have enough to prove it. He’ll point me towards Frankie again and I’m not going to call his bluff yet, but I want to see if I can gain more of his confidence, get him to open up about his plans for Victor.”
“You really care about that guy, huh?”
“Victor is very important to me.” The shadows down the street seemed deeper, the clouds overhead blacking out any light from the moon and stars. “I kind of got myself in a pickle with the Justice Department and I’m afraid it’s going to end badly between the two of us.”
Her dad shifted so he faced her. “What kind of pickle?”
She blew out some air between her lips, wondering why she felt compelled to tell her dad about her faux pas, but there it was. “Someone significant in the JD asked me to do an undercover investigation to see if I could find dirt on Victor. I should’ve said no and dealt with the fallout, but I didn’t, and now? I’m in too deep. I’ve lied to him and there’s no way to tell the truth without ruining things between us.”
“The Justice Department believes he’s dirty?”
“I’ve found
absolutely nothing to confirm that. I know Victor. He’s truly a good guy in his career and personal life.”
“Wait a minute, does this have something to do with me? Did they blackmail you into doing this investigation on the director?”
She laughed without humor. “No, Dad. I got into this all by myself. I always had my sights set on a bigger role in taking down syndicated crime and I’ve been overly ambitious. I wanted to get into the Justice Department at some point and bring the hammer down on the mafia throughout the entire United States. The person I talked to offered me a covert operation looking into Victor’s work and personal life in exchange for consideration for a job I would love to have. I agreed to do it, not understanding the full scope of what they were looking for or why. Now I’ve painted myself into a corner and found nothing to indicate Victor’s success is anything but well earned.”
“Then what would make them want to investigate him?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a weird feeling about it.”
Her father tapped a thumb on his leg. “I bet it has to do with his old man and the mafia.”
All that had happened three decades ago. “How would that have anything to do with Victor’s position as head of the West Coast FBI?”
“I don’t know exactly, but they may be digging into his past and wondering if he has his own agenda with the mafia families here.”
“I don’t think he knows or suspects his father stood up to the family back then. Surely, he’d have mentioned to me if he suspected his father was killed because of it.”
“You’re sure he’s not tied into them, so tell this idiot at the Justice Department the man is clean and move on. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I’ve been lying to Victor all this time. He thinks our initial meeting was coincidence. It wasn’t.”
“Why does he need to know differently?”
This was the fundamental distinction between them. Her father was comfortable with deception. She was not. “Good relationships are built on trust. I have to come clean to him, or I can’t live with myself.”