Dominick was going to find Dina and make her pay.
TREVOR SHOULD HAVE gone to The Hole with everyone else. The post-op buzz was still in his veins. They couldn’t have asked for a smoother go of it. All that practice for the worst-case scenario and they’d gone in to find Charles Ray sleeping off a bender in his underwear.
This was a win. It might be the FBI getting their hands on Charles Ray, but at least someone was making him pay. He’d been free for twenty years, never having to do the time for his part in the murder of the Peacocks. He couldn’t imagine the relief that Val and Victoria were feeling right now knowing that the last person responsible was locked up at last.
Trevor eased his SUV into the driveway and killed the engine. Usually he’d park in the garage, but he’d wash and lay his gear out to dry inside where he could lock it up and leave it. He reached up to flip the headlights off but his gaze caught on the gate leading to the back yard. The whole thing was new after the bad windstorm knocked the old fence down. The hinges needed oiling. He had to be careful that when he shut it, it was latched.
The gate wasn’t latched. It was open maybe a foot.
He’d made sure to shut it after taking the garbage cans around back.
Someone had been in his yard.
He pulled out his phone and opened the home security app, but there were no reports on open windows or doors. The system was showing as armed and on. No disturbances.
Either the interloper had seen the security and left, or whatever they wanted was in the back yard. Like his grill.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
This was Ransom. He shouldn’t have to worry about his patio shit going missing. That was a city problem, not an issue for small towns.
He turned off the headlights and got out of the SUV, making sure to lock it. With all of his SWAT gear in there it was a mini-arsenal.
Trevor pulled his Glock out of his holster. He crossed to the side of the house and approached the gate listening for any sound that might indicate there was someone back there. Chances were if there had been someone trespassing they were long gone. He’d lived in Ransom long enough to make a few enemies though, and then there were Dad’s hand-me-down enemies.
He peered through the gate, but without entering the yard there was no way to see what was out back. He slid through, gun at the ready, and stopped.
The grill sat under the roof overhang, the moonlight reflecting off the stainless steel.
The sectional made of old pallets was where he’d left it. The new, navy blue cushions seemed almost black at this hour.
Maybe some kids kicked a ball over the fence. Maybe someone was just scoping out his place. Maybe a dozen different things.
He should still have a look.
Trevor lowered his weapon and strode to the back patio.
A figure came into view. The dark pants and top helped blend into the shadows, but she wasn’t trying to hide.
“Iris?” He stopped and stared at the last person he expected to see making a house call. She’d been cagey the few times he’d mentioned getting together. This was a one-eighty.
She didn’t budge or move. Man, she really had to be exhausted to pass out in this heat.
Trevor holstered his weapon.
Why was she here?
There was no message, no warning, no asking him where he was on his phone.
So why drop by like this?
Her arm twitched in her sleep.
“Iris? Kate?” He stepped around the end of the sectional and onto the patio.
She sat up, sucking in a breath and lifted her arm—pointing a compact Glock 26 9mm at center mass. He froze. A chill swept through him and all the warmth he felt for this woman cooled. At this range if she pulled that trigger there was no hope for him.
“Hey, let’s talk about this, Iris. Okay?”
“T-Trevor?” Her voice wavered. He could hear the tears.
“Yeah, you’re at my place. I’m here.” He spread his hands, keeping them up and visible.
“Oh, my God.” She dropped the gun into her lap and covered her face with her hands. Her sob shook her whole body.
Trevor leaned forward and snatched the weapon away from her, moving it to the end of the sofa. He sat between her and it, removing the threat to himself first. Just because he wanted to help Iris didn’t mean he could be stupid. She’d pointed a gun at him. He wanted answers.
5.
DINA SAT ON TREVOR’S sofa, a blanket wrapped around her. She couldn’t stop shaking. The tears had mostly dried up, but now that she could do something besides impersonate a fountain she had more problems. Like coming up with a believable reason to tell Trevor she’d come here. He hadn’t bought her blubbered excuse of wanting to surprise him, probably because it sounded silly even to her.
When she’d left her house, she’d only thought of getting somewhere safe. Once here she didn’t know what else to do. Everything was gone, and she had nothing. No phone to call a taxi. No debit cards or cash. No car. No clothes. Just her and a gun.
Trevor stepped out of the kitchen carrying a can of Dr Pepper.
He looked like a cop now with that hard stare.
Coming here was a mistake.
She hunched forward more and glanced at the gun case sitting locked up tight on the top shelf of the built-in bookcases on either side of the fireplace.
A fireplace.
In Texas.
That was a joke.
“Here. Drink this.” He held the can out to her.
“No, thanks.”
“Drink it.”
This was cop Trevor, not the nice guy she’d been texting and talking to. She was out of her league here and floundering.
What the hell did she tell him?
She took the can and sipped the bubbly liquid in an attempt to buy her more time.
Any moment now he’d ask questions and unless she came up with a story she believed, he would see through it.
Trevor sat on the coffee table facing her, his knees on either side of her legs. His hair stuck every which way. His clothes were weird, green pants and a green, long-sleeved shirt.
“Where were you?” she asked before she could think better of the question.
“SWAT team got called out tonight. I probably stink. I haven’t taken a shower yet.” He glanced down at himself and wrinkled his nose.
“I don’t smell you.”
“Drink.” He nodded at the can. “Your nose is stopped up. Be glad. I think I can smell myself.”
She took another sip because why not? It bought her time and gave her something to do.
Trevor kept watching her, but it wasn’t unnerving. When other cops or the FBI had sat across from her, she’d squirmed and felt picked apart. Trevor was studying her, but it was different. She didn’t know how, it just was.
“I know your name isn’t Kate. I don’t know if Iris is really your name or just something you told me. I know your history doesn’t go back more than five years. You’re afraid of something. If you’ll just tell me what’s going on, I can help.”
Oh, sweet, sweet Trevor.
His first instinct was to help.
That was what made him good.
But she wasn’t good.
She blinked a couple of times, but the tears came unbidden.
“Hey. Hey, don’t do that.” He took the can from her and pushed a tissue into her hands from the box he’d brought her earlier.
“You can’t help me,” she said. “There’s nothing to help.”
“Kate? Iris? Come on, be honest with me.”
She had to tell him something.
Rudy’s story. Her battered wife explanation for the scars Trevor hadn’t mentioned. He might not even remember them.
“My ex-husband.” The words felt clunky and wrong, but she had to keep to the story. “He’s the reason I changed my name. He’s the reason I’m here. Hiding from him.”
She couldn’t even look at him. She stared at a spot on the coffee tabl
e where the light gleamed off the polished surface.
The silence stretched on.
Trevor didn’t offer sympathy or understanding. He just watched her. Or maybe he was reading her like some kind of book?
“That’s the story you want to go with?” he finally asked.
She lifted her shoulders. The old burns on her arm ached, but it was all in her head. The past coming back to bite her. Nothing she said would be believable. Even the truth was so outlandish it seemed fake.
“Okay.” He squeezed her hands then let go and pushed to his feet.
He took a few steps away from her and she shivered, missing his nearness, the comfort of his presence.
“What are you going to do next?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t go back to the house, but without a few things she was destitute. Creating a new life was expensive.
“I can make a report. Help you fill out everything. But you’re going to have to come clean if you want your ex stopped.”
Dina swallowed. She could maybe use her first FBI alias, but that would alert the feds to where she was. They’d always wanted to squeeze more out of her. If she went that route she’d be trying to evade both her brother who wanted her dead and the FBI who couldn’t keep her safe. She’d done better being on her own.
If she got her money and her laptop back-ups she could start over. With those two things she could leave Kate behind and become someone new. But she didn’t want to. She was tired of the names, the lies, the always being afraid. If it weren’t for her brother, she’d be able to live a quiet life away from everything. Dominick wouldn’t let her go. He was the one person she’d tried to protect in all of this and now he was the one gunning for her the hardest.
She covered her face with her hands.
What should she do?
She had no options and no friends. The only one trying to help her was Trevor.
“I need help.” Her throat hurt and her nose was raw.
“I’m trying to help you.” Trevor stood a few feet away, his hands on his hips.
He knew the law. He probably had connections. If nothing else he might be able to point her in the right direction. She was so tired of this always being afraid business.
“My middle name is Iris. It’s a family name.” She curled her legs under her and wrapped the blanket tight around her shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone about this. It could get you hurt.”
Or killed.
“Just talk to me.” Trevor took a step closer and sat on the sofa next to her.
“My name is Dina.” It felt good to say that out loud. She’d worn so many names, but Dina was hers. Even if it had been given to her by the parents she hated.
“Nice to meet you, Dina.” Trevor placed his hand on her ankle.
“Dina Profaci.” She glanced at him. “That name probably doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Where did she start?
If he had any idea who she was, this would go faster.
The history wasn’t important. What led to this moment was.
“When I was eighteen my parents and my twin brother murdered my best friend, Rosie.” She glanced at Trevor watching her.
He didn’t say a word or even move.
“There’s a lot more going into this. I’m starting in the middle. It’s too much to explain. What you should know is that the FBI had been following us around for a while. After they killed her, they did this to me.” She pulled her shirt sleeve up to show the fading scars where Dad had cut her and Mom had burned her.
“Why would they do that?” Trevor’s face scrunched up, and he reached over, taking her hand.
“It doesn’t matter.” She hadn’t told this story in so long she didn’t want to get sidetracked with the insignificant bits. “A few days after Rosie’s body was found I walked up to the car tailing us and got in. I told them I’d snitch on my parents if they could get me out of there. They said yes, I gave them my parents on a silver platter—but I left my brother out of it.”
She shook her head and swallowed. That was maybe her biggest mistake. But Dominick was her brother. Her twin. No, he wasn’t good, but he’d been a kid. Like her.
“Why were the FBI following you?” Trevor asked softly.
“Because my family is tied up in the mafia.”
Cosa Nostra.
That fucking nightmare had stolen her life, her happiness and her future.
“I get that me turning snitch was a shock. I mean, we had the picture perfect family on the outside. But at home?” She shook her head and picked up the Dr Pepper. After a sip she turned to face Trevor fully. If she was going to tell him, she was going to lay it all out there. “Dominick was the preferred child. Mom and Dad wanted a boy to carry on the family name, to train up into the business, to keep the bullshit going. He was a spoiled asshole, but I loved him. For some stupid reason I thought if Mom and Dad were out of the picture Dominick would get the chance to live his own life. I just... I didn’t know him well enough by then to understand that he was going to turn out just like Dad.”
“The FBI didn’t pick him up on other charges?”
“No, they heaped everything on Dad to get the longest sentence possible. He’d been on their radar for twenty years. Dad stayed out of the sweeps in the nineties and he started up an on-line gambling ring in the very beginning. He had his own thing going on. I couldn’t testify in the courtroom. That’s how worried they were someone was going to try to kill me. They had me on a video with a phone the whole time. Dad screamed at me to the point they had to take him away. After the trial I went into WitSec. I thought—now I can finally live my life, you know?” She rolled her eyes. “God, I was an idiot. Dominick and some guys found me a year and a half later, then two years after that, then a few weeks later. They were always right there, finding me. So I left. I went out on my own, and now he’s sent his best friends after me again.”
“How do you know that?”
“They broke into my house.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. I was getting a drink, went to the window and saw them standing on the sidewalk. Little Tony walked right up to the door and broke in. At least, I assume it’s him. He always was the muscle. I was already in the bedroom getting out of there.”
It was an odd realization to know the boys she’d grown up with would kill her the moment they saw her. It gave all those times of playing cops and robbers a whole new meaning. The whole time it was practice for her eventual murder.
TREVOR SAT THERE WITH one hand on Dina’s ankle, staring at her face twisted up in pain.
Was this real? Was she telling him the truth?
The whole thing sounded crazy and absurd. But sometimes that old adage was right, truth was stranger than fiction.
“You don’t believe me.” Dina’s shoulders slumped.
“I do.” At least parts of it.
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I can prove it to you. At least part of it.” She held out her hand.
“I use my phone for work so I can’t give it to you.” He took notes and recorded interviews. If Dina wasn’t who he thought, he couldn’t give her his phone. That would be stupid.
“Google it then. Me. My parents. All of it.”
Trevor unlocked his screen and brought up an internet search. He typed in Dina Profaci and watched the search results roll in.
Mafioso’s Daughter Seals Conviction.
Mafia Don’s Daughter Accuses Parents of Murder.
Daughter of the Mafia Speaks Out.
He clicked into one at random and skimmed the article. About halfway through a recap of a day at court was the picture of a nineteen-year-old woman with dark, almost black hair. The camera had captured her looking away, at something else.
The eyes were the same.
That was Dina’s nose and mouth.
The hair was different.
She had more sh
ape to her, filled out.
But she wasn’t lying.
Kate was Dina Iris Profaci.
Shit.
Of course he’d have gotten hooked on the most distressed damsel of all. No wonder she’d stayed on his mind since that night. He had this sixth sense, he always could tell a woman in trouble.
But Dina had no one. The system had failed her time and time again for doing the right thing. If someone didn’t take up for her, she’d become a statistic. Some Jane Doe no one knew who got buried in a pauper’s grave.
He couldn’t let that happen to her.
Trevor cleared his throat.
He had to make his next decisions carefully.
“Can you tell me again about the break-in?” he asked.
“I already told you. You can’t go back there. Not tonight.” She shook her head.
“If we could catch them—”
“They’d kill you.” Dina’s eyes were wide, her olive toned skin pale.
“If we arrest them we remove the threat to you.” That was how he’d keep her safe. Knock the threat out.
“No. You don’t understand.” She pushed to her feet and paced in front of the TV. “Phillip, he was always okay. I mean, I haven’t seen him since I was eighteen. He was always nice, a little obnoxious, but whatever. Little Tony? No. You can’t go near him.”
“Who are Phillip and Little Tony?” He tabbed to his notes app and scrawled the two names.
“They were my friends—well, my brother’s friends—growing up. Their dad’s worked for our dad. Now, I guess they work for Dominick.”
“And how certain are you that’s who was at your house tonight?”
“Dead certain. I heard their voices.”
“Iris—Dina—you’ve got a few options here. First, the FBI—”
“No. No, way. Fuck the FBI. I don’t trust them.”
“The FBI don’t run WitSec. The US Marshals do.”
“Fuck them, too.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You could treat this like an unrelated incident then. Two guys broke into your house. We’ll take care of it.” Trevor obviously couldn’t work the case. He was too involved with Dina, but he could watch from the sidelines and make sure it got the attention it deserved.
Stolen Redemption (Texas SWAT, #2) Page 6