Storm's Cage

by Mary Stone

  At least until one of the Leónes tripped over a landmine and blew them all to hell.

  Joseph would just have to hope that when that day came, he’d be long gone. And with any luck, he’d have Amelia Storm at his side.

  Or on her knees. He’d gladly entertain either option.

  6

  Though the shadows had grown long as the sun neared the end of its descent to the horizon, Alex Passarelli could still make out the print of the paperback novel in his hands. A few months ago, he’d made the leap to the science fiction genre at the insistence of his uncle Tony, and now, he was hooked.

  Sci-fi novels weren’t what an average person pictured when they thought of a mafia capo, but yet, here Alex was. His workdays were spent in front of a computer, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaken a business owner down for protection money.

  He snorted to himself at the thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever shaken someone down for protection money. The digital age had transformed the landscape of organized crime, and the D’Amato family was one of the few syndicates that had embraced the new world from the start.

  There was far more profit to be made in cybercrime than the traditional avenues of drug trafficking, and money was the primary reason anyone became an outlaw.

  As he shifted in his seat beneath a familiar wooden gazebo, he spotted a black sedan rounding the bend to a nearby gravel parking lot. The crunch of tires against rocks grew louder as the vehicle pulled to a stop beside Alex’s Audi.

  Thanks to the glare of the waning daylight, he couldn’t make out the driver’s features. A week ago, he’d planned the meeting with his former high school sweetheart and current FBI Special Agent, Amelia Storm. That could be her, but he didn’t know what kind of car she drove. Preparing for the worst, he dropped one hand closer to the hidden forty-five behind his back.

  Only when she stepped out into the golden sunlight did he permit himself to lower his guard.

  Despite the secretive location past the outskirts of the city, there was no pressing issue for them to discuss. Ever since Alex had uncovered Brian Kolthoff’s link to Senator Stan Young, he and Amelia had agreed to meet regularly to keep one another updated about the man’s activities.

  He could hardly believe that, only a few months earlier, he and Amelia had crossed paths for the first time in over a decade. When he saw her now, he could have tricked himself into thinking their tearful breakup had only occurred a year ago.

  In the eleven years since she’d left Chicago to join the military, he had yet to broach the same level of intimacy with another woman that he and Amelia once shared.

  Never mind that he was engaged to the daughter of the head of the D’Amato family. Salvatore D’Amato’s youngest child, Liliana, was a little more than ten years younger than Alex, and the last time he’d seen her, she’d still been in high school.

  Now, she was at the start of her senior year at the Chicago University Booth School of Business. He’d been informed that her intent was to earn her master’s in business administration. Once Liliana completed her undergraduate degree, the two of them were slated to marry.

  In less than a year, Alex would be a married man.

  No matter how bizarre the whole situation felt to him, his and Liliana’s union would cement the Passarelli family’s status in the upper echelon of mafia hierarchy.

  Some part of him had always thought the day would never come, that he’d be a bachelor for the rest of his life. He needed to get rid of the detached sentiment toward his intended, so he’d made plans for a night out with Liliana.

  The date would happen in two days. And he still hadn’t found a ring to give her.

  Fingernails scraped his scalp as he combed a hand through his hair and forced his attention back to the park. Aside from a few faint voices that drifted up from the lake at the bottom of the hill behind him, the surrounding area was quiet.

  Amelia’s eyes fell on him as she climbed the two steps to the gazebo’s wooden floor. “Evening, Alex.” Her tone was professional, but he caught a strained twinge in her expression.

  Closing the paperback, Alex straightened to face her. “Hey. How was the drive?”

  She dropped into her seat and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It’s six o’clock on a weekday. How do you think it was?”

  “Probably not great.” He stifled a grin, reminding himself to stay purely professional. “Have you learned anything new about Kolthoff since the last time we talked? Or Stan Young?”

  Waning sunlight glittered off the silver band of her watch as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know why I would have. I’m looking for a dirty cop, so unless Kolthoff has changed professions lately, I can’t say I’ve been looking too closely at him.”

  Alex wasn’t surprised. “A dirty Leóne cop?”

  Though slight, a muscle in her jaw tensed as she clamped her teeth together. “Yes. A dirty cop who worked with Alton Dalessio in that hellhole in Kankakee County.” She pinned him with a knowing look. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea which Chicago detectives are on the Leóne roster these days?”

  He gave himself a moment to run through his mental rolodex, wondering if one of the cops on his payroll was double dipping. “I don’t. All I know is that they have cops on their roster. And at least one Fed, if I remember the Leila Jackson case correctly.”

  Her nose wrinkled, and she crossed her arms, clearly unhappy with the memory. “I remember it. But whoever it was, they didn’t help the Leónes on the last case we worked, so that makes me wonder how loyal they actually are to the family. Might’ve been that they were just pals with Emilio.”

  “It’s possible.” Alex smoothed out the fabric of his black slacks. “It’s also possible that the Fed isn’t on the Leónes’ payroll. They might be one of Kolthoff’s allies, or maybe one of Stan Young’s.”

  Amelia narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean, exactly? I get that we’ve traced Kolthoff’s connection to the Leónes, and then we’ve traced his connection to Young. Not to mention that Young’s company was, is, probably making millions on the backs of modern-day slaves, plenty of which were supplied by the Leónes. I don’t really have to stretch my imagination to picture a corrupt politician keeping company with a corrupt federal agent, you know?”

  The obviousness of that statement didn’t need a response, but Amelia was staring at him as if she expected a Captain Obvious-like agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not much of a stretch, is it?” He paused, taking a mental inventory of his investigative progress over the past couple months. “It’s been almost a month since I found that connection, and it seems like there’s nothing to show for it so far.”

  She let out a mirthless chortle. “I’m not really sure what you want from me, Alex. Do you want me to take down a senator?”

  Yes. Yes, he did.

  “Well, that—”

  She waved a hand. “Yeah, I know that’s what the FBI is for, but it’s a bit beyond my scope of expertise. Right now, I’m just trying to find the pedophile Chicago PD detective who was working with Dalessio.”

  It was Alex’s turn to narrow his eyes. “What about Brian Kolthoff? The Shark? You know how he got that moniker, don’t you? It’s not because he likes to scuba dive, I can tell you that much.” He propped an elbow on each knee and hunched forward, his gaze fixed on Amelia. “People call him The Shark because he takes his victims out to sea before he kills them. How is it that the FBI isn’t all over him?”

  Amelia’s expression darkened as if she were at war with her thoughts and what she was about to say. “We’re not looking into him at the moment because there’s no evidence for us to look at.”

  That was a load of crap. The Feds had plenty on The Shark. Alex’s frustration got the better of him before he could stop himself from throwing both arms out to his sides. “Then find some! Isn’t that what the FBI is for?”

  The instant he saw the venom in her eyes, he wished he could retract the outburst. She wa
sn’t some damn Fed. She was Amelia. And she was helping him, despite not being on the family payroll. He knew better than to have let his temper slip, but before he could open his mouth to apologize, she leveled an index finger at him.

  “You know what? I don’t have time for this shit. Last I checked, you weren’t the Special Agent in Charge of the FBI office in Chicago. Yeah, you helped me find Leila Jackson, but it seemed like I was doing you a favor as much as you were doing one for me. I think that makes us square, don’t you?”

  Alex took in a deep breath, but a response wouldn’t come to his lips. With each second that ticked away in silence, Alex fully expected Amelia to take off in a huff.

  Though there was once a time when he and Amelia freely expressed emotions to each other, including frustration, those days were long gone.

  And as much as he wanted the Bureau to hone in on Brian Kolthoff, they couldn’t arrest him until they had evidence enough to condemn the man to prison for the rest of his life. Alex reminded himself that Amelia wasn’t like the other law enforcement agents on the D’Amato family’s payroll.

  Amelia wasn’t on their payroll, and at any point, she could flip him the bird and walk away.

  Their history was the only tether that bound her to the D’Amatos, and with each passing day, the link grew weaker. Eventually, the meager connection would no longer be enough.

  Did the D’Amatos need to pay her? Blackmail her? Negotiate with her? If blackmail was the only option, would he be capable of going through with such an underhanded scheme?

  The whirlwind of what-ifs and doubt coalesced into a dull ache at the base of Alex’s skull. His pulse throbbed in his ears as he squeezed his eyes closed to massage his temples.

  There was one way to push back the expiration date on their fragile alliance. Amelia had always been close with her late brother, Trevor, and Trevor had been on the D’Amatos’ payroll.

  “Are you okay?” Amelia’s irascibility had given way to a tinge of concern.

  Without opening his eyes, he nodded. “Just a headache. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, well.” When he squinted through the golden sunlight, she’d crossed her arms over her white button-down shirt.

  Shoving a hand through his hair, he straightened and returned his attention to her. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. But you have to understand, this thing with Brian Kolthoff, it’s personal. And it’s not just because he’s a rival of the family.” He’d wanted to maintain eye contact, but his gaze drifted to the wooden planks at their feet. “Look, I don’t know the specifics because the person who was investigating it died before they could get too deep. I’ve been doing my own research too, and I’m certain Kolthoff had something to do with Gianna.”

  “You think Brian Kolthoff kidnaped your sister?” Venom spewed from Amelia’s words with such force that Alex was surprised he didn’t drop dead.

  He rubbed his hands together—a longstanding nervous tic that he simply lacked the energy to suppress right now.

  He forced himself to meet her incredulous stare. “Yes. Some of my guys started hearing these rumors about how some shark had taken Gianna out to sea, and well…” Shaking his head, he left the recollection unfinished. “I never knew who this shark was. Not until you told me Leila was being sold to The Shark. Then I started putting the pieces together.”

  Amelia’s eyes burned into him like twin pools of green flame, but she didn’t speak. At the unbridled fury in her expression, he couldn’t help a pang of sympathy for anyone who’d ever been on the receiving end of one of her interrogations. “What pieces?”

  He refused to let his stare falter. “Like I said. I heard stories about a shark. They were filtered through the rumor mill, so it wasn’t concrete evidence. Gangsters can be just as bad as a high school locker room. Dad and I didn’t put much stock in those stories at first. We figured it was just some Leóne prick running his mouth. But then a couple more years went by, and my uncle Tony…” He frowned. “You remember him, right?”

  A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Yes, I do.”

  Alex laced his fingers together so he wouldn’t be tempted to rub his hands. “Tony got a message from someone who claimed they were part of the Leóne family, and again, they claimed a shark person had something to do with Gianna’s…death.” He swallowed against the bile rising in the back of his throat.

  If Amelia was sympathetic, her steely countenance belied none of the compassion. “Who sent him the message?”

  “We never found out.” The not knowing still felt like a punch in the gut. “But that time, we decided to find out for sure, so we went to a detective who’d been working for us for about three years at that point. Nothing major. Nothing dangerous. We only asked him to find out what happened to Gianna. He kept it on the down-low, made sure no one he worked with knew about the inquiry.”

  Her eyes were slits. “Is that so? I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share this detective’s name with me, would you?”

  His heart knocked against his ribs like a hammer on wood, but he kept his expression neutral. The moment of truth had arrived, the moment that would define the rest of his relationship with Amelia—professional or otherwise.

  “It was your brother.”

  Though he expected her to be taken aback by the revelation, he realized in short order how naïve the assumption had been.

  In a blur of movement, she was on her feet.

  Alex followed just as quickly, preparing to launch into an explanation for his decision to keep the knowledge to himself after their unexpected reunion a few months earlier.

  But before a single word could leave his mouth, she threw both arms up in the air. “Un-fucking-believable! It didn’t occur to you that I could have used any of this information when I was trying to find Leila Jackson? You didn’t think it might have been relevant the moment we learned Emilio was selling her to The Shark?”

  The way her hands were flying through the air as she mocked him, Alex wondered if she didn’t have more than a little Italian in her. “I—”

  “You’re so fucking smart, and yet nothing I shared with you triggered a warning at all. You know, like maybe,” she pulled her phone from her pocket, miming a call, “hey, Amelia, you should probably know that’s the asshole who killed my sister.”

  “I didn’t know who this shark person was until after you came to me, or have you—”

  Amelia held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak now.”

  He could almost see the smoke steaming out of her ears, and mafia capo or not, Alex would not dare defy her command at that moment.

  “You know what? I can’t even say that I’m surprised Trevor was working with you guys. Joanna and I knew that he was getting paid from somewhere, and I knew damn well it wasn’t the Leónes or the cartel. That didn’t leave a lot of options, and considering he was one of the few people who knew about me and you, it didn’t take a genius to put the rest of it together.”

  “I’m…sorry.” He hung his head in shame and blew out a long breath. “I know I should have told you sooner, but honestly, I didn’t see what good it would do. At this point, it’s all just conjecture.”

  “Conjecture?” She barked the word at him.

  “We don’t have any—”

  “My brother is dead,” she hissed. “Trevor’s dead, his wife is a widow, and his kids are growing up without a father. And why? So you could send him to chase after a ghost? Because if you think that his death isn’t related to him chasing after Gianna’s killer, then you’re kidding yourself.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention at the callousness in Amelia’s voice. He swallowed the sense of unease. “I just thought that you’d understand, that maybe you could relate. I wanted answers. Wanted to know who’d been responsible for Gianna’s…for taking her.”

  “No.” She slammed one hand on her hip and slashed a finger at him with another. “Don’t spin this back around on me. You people were too damn scared of…of, who? Brian Kolthoff? You w
ere scared he’d come for you if you got too close to his secret, so you sent in someone else instead. Someone expendable. A cop.”

  As justified as her anger was, the fact Amelia would not let him explain himself fully sent adrenaline burning through his veins. He leveled his gaze at her. “That’s not how it went down, and you know it!” Alex struggled to keep his voice in check. “Trevor was a homicide detective, and he had access to more information than we could’ve found, no matter how hard we’d tried. He wasn’t expendable. We needed him!”

  Her jaw tightened.

  None of the stubbornness of her youth had left that woman. If anything, she had grown even more bullheaded over the years. “Jesus, Amelia. You know I wouldn’t do that to you, no matter who your brother was.”

  As she raised a hand to push the strands of dark hair from her face, she glanced to the horizon. “There’s a storm moving in from the west. I need to leave.”

  Alex glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, a sheet of dark clouds had rolled in to obscure the waning daylight. He spotted a flicker of movement at the bottom of the grassy hill as a couple and their children packed away their picnic supplies. When he turned back to Amelia, she’d already taken the first few steps to the edge of the gazebo.

  Scooping up the worn paperback, he followed her to the gravel lot as he searched through his thoughts in a vain effort to find a way to placate her, to remind her that they were on the same side. Try as he might, any reassurances that crossed his mind were nothing more than mindless platitudes.

  “I’m sorry, Amelia.” The words sounded hollow and stupid, but an apology was the best he could manage.

  Her eyes flicked to his as she pulled open the driver’s side door of the black sedan. “Okay.”

  He didn’t have a chance to add to the apology before she disappeared behind the wheel.

  All he could do was hope that he hadn’t severed the fragile bond they’d shared. Because if Brian Kolthoff and Senator Stan Young were co-conspirators or allies, then he and the D’Amatos would need Amelia.