Storm's Cage

by Mary Stone

  As she opened her mouth, Joseph jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the restaurant. “So, same time again next week for karaoke? We can pair up and sing “Africa” by Toto, or maybe something from one of those eighties hair bands I know you love.”

  Amelia covered her mouth with the back of one hand as she laughed. “I don’t hate all of them. There are a couple that have some good songs.”

  He rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

  She expected him to follow the remark with a departing wave.

  That would have been the polite thing to do.

  Before she could open the car door, Joseph’s lingering gaze deepened. He stared into her eyes and reached out to touch her face. As he brushed his fingers down her cheek, he moved closer until she could feel the warmth of his body through the layers of her clothing.

  A phantom hand with fingers made of ice clamped down around Amelia’s throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Time itself ground to a halt as she desperately tried to force her mind to work.

  Was this real? Had she fallen asleep during the stakeout only to succumb to a vivid dream?

  No, this wasn’t a dream. This was a damn nightmare.

  Though Amelia’s body was frozen in place, every cell in her body followed the motion of Joseph’s hand as he trailed his fingers down her neck. The touch should have been warm, but to Amelia, the sensation was searing. Like he’d coated his fingers with Napalm.

  An unbidden image of Luca Passarelli played across her mind.

  Luca’s advance had started out the same. He’d backed her up to a wall and traced his fingers down to her throat.

  As he’d closed in, he’d whispered all the ways he intended to fuck her if she chose to stay in Chicago. All the degrading sex acts he’d never been able to perform on his wife because she was D’Amato royalty. Acts he’d be more than glad to carry out on the stupid little whore who was sleeping with his son.

  With one hand around her neck, Luca had pushed up the hem of her sundress and groped between her legs so hard she’d gotten bruises. He’d told her she was welcome to stay in the city, but she’d be expected to service him whenever he asked—all without alerting his son or wife, of course. If she ever got the bright idea to tell one of them what had happened, he’d do worse than just kill her.

  Until he’d dropped her skirt and wrapped his hands around her throat, Amelia had been certain the man intended to rape her.

  As she ripped herself from the traumatic memory, she realized she could hear little over the knocking of her heart as it pounded against her rib cage. Little tendrils of blind panic coursed through her veins, and she barely managed to turn her head to the side before Joseph could try to kiss her.

  She wanted to close her eyes and wait for Joseph to disappear, but she knew better. She knew he wouldn’t leave.

  Pull your shit together and do something…now.

  Clenching one hand until her nails bit into the sensitive skin of her palm, she forced herself to step to the side. All her senses were on full alert and registered the sharp pain in her hand, the weight of the handbag on her shoulder, the distant sounds of Chicago’s traffic.

  Joseph wasn’t Luca, and Amelia wasn’t the frightened eighteen-year-old girl she’d been back then. She just had to keep herself grounded, to keep her mind from catapulting to the past.

  Swallowing the desert on her tongue, Amelia took in a slow, deep breath to steady her already frayed nerves.

  If Joseph gets handsy like Luca did, I’ll pull out my service weapon and shoot him in the ass.

  A chuckle rumbled up Joseph’s throat as he sidestepped with her and brushed his lips along her cheekbone. “I’m sorry. I should have said something, shouldn’t I?”

  Despite the apology, he made no move to put distance between them. If Amelia hadn’t been backed up against the driver’s side of her car, she’d have shimmied out of his grasp. But with one of his hands on her shoulder and the other on her hip, plus the damn car, her options for escape were limited.

  Muscles as rigid as a marble sculpture, she held her awkward position as she spoke. “Yeah.” To her surprise, her voice was clear and even. “Back off me now.”

  Because I’m not eighteen anymore, and Joseph’s not a fucking mob boss.

  Joseph didn’t move, didn’t drop his hands.

  Amelia cleared her throat and pressed her hands to his chest, giving him a shove that didn’t push him anywhere. “I’m not interested in this. We work together, and I prefer we keep a professional relationship.” She shoved harder, and he backed up an inch. “I don’t want that to turn awkward because of something like this.”

  Squeezing her shoulder, Joseph backed up another inch, but he didn’t let go of her hip. “Come on. We can separate business from pleasure.”

  Her neck creaked as she lifted her head to meet his gaze, but she didn’t speak. The aloof tone of his voice was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

  He wasn’t done yet.

  His pale eyes bore into hers. “I know you’re going through a lot right now, especially with everything that happened with Alton Dalessio. I can’t imagine what kind of guilt you’ve been carrying around about that. Not guilt that he’s dead, but you know.” He casually shrugged. “Guilt because you had to lie to the Bureau. Or maybe because you know I lied to them too. To protect you.”

  The sting of bile rose up the back of her throat.

  This couldn’t be happening. Ever since he’d mentioned Alton Dalessio on their first trip to MCC Chicago, Amelia had been paranoid that he’d use the man’s death as leverage to…to what? What did she think he wanted?

  How in the hell hadn’t she seen this coming?

  She’d been naïve. She’d wanted to believe that, deep down, Joseph was a decent human being. That he wouldn’t blackmail his friend into having sex with him.

  But here she was, pinned against a car, while he reminded her of his powerful position…both physically and mentally.

  Forcing herself to not kick him in the balls yet, she took a calming breath and sifted through her thoughts to find a response.

  If she turned him down now, she risked not just her career but her freedom.

  If she didn’t turn him down, she risked so much more…her dignity.

  Before she could lift her knee, Joseph stepped away. “Like I said, I can separate work from pleasure, and I’m sure you can too. It’s been a long day, but think about it, okay?”

  Tentative relief prickled at the back of her neck as she stood her ground. “Rest assured, it will be difficult to think about anything else.”

  Like the asshole he was, he smiled, considering the statement a compliment. He took another step back, and Amelia almost slumped against the side of the car. She didn’t. She stood straight and tall. Joseph’s eyes were glued to her, but without the physical contact, breathing became easier.

  He wanted her to think about it. About screwing him. Though the thought made her stomach churn, she forced a measure of calm to her face. “I’m leaving.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “Drive safe, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I hope you wrap your car around a tree.

  She managed to keep her thoughts inside her head, and before he’d even reached the end of her car, she was behind the driver’s seat and locking the doors.

  Not wanting him to follow her, she waited for him to turn out onto the street before she pressed her head to the steering wheel and let out an explosive breath.

  “Son of a freaking damned asshole bitch! Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  Cheeks flushed with anger, and eyes watering with tears she refused to let fall, Amelia slumped down in the seat. How did she let herself get into this position? She should have punched him or kneed him in the balls.

  Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew the idea was childish, but she needed an outlet for this frantic energy. The smart thing would be
for her to not waste energy on the pushy, womanizing asshole. But she couldn’t bottle up her feelings. They’d just come out in other very bad ways. She needed a distraction. At least for now. Something to calm her and stop her hands from trembling so she could drive home safely.

  A muffled buzz ripped through the noxious cloud of anxiety and disbelief. The sound was faint, but the disturbance struck her with the force of a stadium air horn.

  Did Joseph change his mind? Was he calling to say he can’t wait? Is he on his way back to the parking lot?

  She jerked upright and searched for the phone, fishing all the way to the bottom of her handbag.

  Her stomach tied itself into knots as she pulled out the vibrating phone. The number that lit up the screen wasn’t familiar, but her breath came a little easier when she realized her caller wasn’t Joseph.

  Pushing the hair back from her forehead, she accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Amelia. Hey, it’s me. It’s Lainey. Oh my god, you answered. I…can we talk? Please?”

  Shit.

  She’d been so relieved not to see Joseph’s name that she hadn’t paused to consider who might have been calling her from an unsaved number.

  When Amelia didn’t answer right away, Lainey went on. “I’m…I’m just in a tough spot right now, and I could really use your help. My boyfriend…he’s been.” She paused, sniffling on the other end of the line. “Neither of us can find a job, and he’s been making me do things for money. Like hiding drugs and driving up to Canada. And…and other stuff too.”

  The story should have stirred up an ache in Amelia’s heart, and on some level, she was disappointed it didn’t.

  For the last five years, Lainey’s song and dance had played on repeat. Her story of hardship was just that—a story. There was no forced drug muling, no forced prostitution. Lainey was an addict, and anything she did, she did for her next fix.

  “Please, Amelia.” Another sniffle. “I could really use some help. Just a couple hundred, I know you can—”

  “No, Lainey. No. This is not the time for this.” As Amelia dragged a hand over her face, she grated her teeth and tried to swallow her ire. She wasn’t mad at Lainey, and Lainey wasn’t the reason she was on the cusp of smashing her phone into the dashboard. But if she had to listen to another of her little sister’s tall tales about struggles that had never happened, she’d snap.

  “Amelia? Are you still there?”

  “No.” She knew right away how stupid the response sounded, but she didn’t care. She wanted to get her sister off the line before she made a comment she’d regret. “Don’t call me to ask for money again, Lainey. Goodbye.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Amelia pulled the phone from her cheek and disconnected the call.

  As she watched the screen dim and then fade to black, she wondered if she should reach out to Zane. She’d told him about the first time Joseph had tried to get her to go home with him, but that situation had been much different.

  Tonight wasn’t an awkward proposition that she accompany him back to his apartment for drinks. Tonight, he’d backed her into a real corner.

  The writing on the wall was clear. If Amelia didn’t go along with Joseph’s so-called suggestion that they sleep together, he’d rat her out. He’d tell SAC Keaton and the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation that Amelia had prematurely shot and killed Alton Dalessio.

  If she was lucky, she’d lose her job.

  But if she wasn’t so lucky, she’d be sent to prison. And she knew how well former law enforcement officials fared behind bars.

  Zane wouldn’t be able to help her if Joseph made good on his unspoken threat. Involving Zane would only put him at risk for retaliation either from Joseph or the FBI.

  Amelia was on her own.

  21

  The red glow of the traffic light caught the screen of Joseph’s cheap burner phone as he flipped open the device. He’d missed a call from Joe Dalessio while he and Amelia had been in Chereez’s Bar and Grill. Since the stakeout of Russel Ulmer’s apartment building had yielded nothing, Joseph assumed Dalessio had found Ulmer and stashed him at a Leóne safe house.

  So much for returning to his apartment to watch for Amelia’s reaction when she got home.

  She’d been taken off guard by his proposition, but Joseph suspected that, deep down, she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He’d felt the rapid cadence of her heartbeat when he’d run his hand down her neck, and he’d heard her hitched breathing when he whispered in her ear.

  She just needed to give him a chance to run through all the dirty fantasies that played like a film in the back of his mind. And she would. Soon, he’d show her.

  Before any more blood could rush to his growing erection, he shook himself out of the thoughts. The night wasn’t over yet, and he still had work to do.

  Glancing up as the light changed to green, Joseph dialed Dalessio’s number.

  The capo’s voice cut through the buzz of the ringtone before Joseph had even cleared the intersection. “Yeah?”

  “I’m returning your call.” Joseph shifted the device to his other ear and tightened his grasp on the steering wheel. “Did our friend arrive?”

  Dalessio cleared his throat. “Yeah. Found him out by the fishing hole. Everything is safe and secure here at the Englewood house. You know the one, right?”

  Easing down on the brake, Joseph flicked on his turn signal. “I’ve been there a couple times. I’m headed there now. ETA fifteen to twenty minutes.” Englewood was in the opposite direction of where he lived, but he was eager to knock out his conversation with Russel Ulmer before he officially ended his day.

  “He doesn’t know you’re coming. And to be honest, I don’t know why you would want to, but I’ll allow it this one time. What do you want me to tell him?”

  Joseph almost laughed aloud at the haughty reply. These mobsters and their huge egos. He didn’t doubt that Joe felt he was truly being magnanimous. If the sorry prick only knew what was coming. But seeing as Joseph wasn’t on the Leóne payroll, he owed the man no deference and felt no need to reveal anything. Joe could enjoy the surprise right along with Russel. “Just tell him someone’s coming to help him disappear.”

  The line was silent for a beat before Dalessio replied. “Okay. I’ll do that. See you soon, then.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” With the succinct farewell, Joseph pulled the phone from his ear and snapped the device shut.

  He and Joe Dalessio had never been friends by any stretch of the imagination, but Joe was one of the few Leónes who’d ever interacted with Joseph face-to-face. The seasoned capo ran a tight ship.

  Or, at least, he had, until his younger cousin had opened up a kiddie porn ring right under his nose.

  Despite the reassurances from Brian Kolthoff and the Leóne family alike, Joseph was unconvinced that Joe had been as blind to the operation as he claimed.

  As the old saying went, “Money talks and bullshit walks.” Plenty of perverts on the dark web would pay a premium for the type of content Alton had provided.

  Cursing under his breath, Joseph clamped both hands around the wheel and pressed down on the accelerator.

  He kept company with all manner of unsavory characters—everything from drug traffickers to organ harvesters—but he drew the line at predators who preyed on the very young.

  Twenty-eight years earlier, when Joseph was only eight years old and his brother was eleven, his mother had brought a man named Sawyer Kastner into their lives. They’d been dirt poor at the time, and Joseph’s mother, Jennifer, worked two to three different jobs just to keep a roof over their heads.

  Sawyer had been a successful real estate agent in a nearby city, and Jennifer had been so consumed by his ability to elevate her lot in life that she’d neglected to take notice of the man’s peculiarities.

  Even almost thirty years later, Joseph still didn’t know why Sawyer had targeted Dan instead of him. Dan was only three years older than Joseph, and they’d frequently receive
d comments on how much they looked alike.

  Dan had suffered in silence for two years. In that time, Jennifer and Sawyer married and were about to have their first daughter. Their household was well-furnished, the pantry was full, and their back-to-school clothes were new. With Sawyer’s income to support them, Jennifer had even obtained an associate’s degree in accounting.

  To an outside observer, their family’s lives had taken a turn for the better. But no one had a clue as to what kind of hell had been created for an innocent twelve-year-old boy.

  If Joseph hadn’t confided in his older brother about their stepfather’s creepy midnight visits, he doubted Dan would have said anything at all. But the damage had already been done.

  Three years later, after their mother had divorced Sawyer and tried to have him sent to jail, Dan overdosed on prescription pills.

  The pain and shame were too much for him to overcome. His brother had killed himself. All because of that prick, Sawyer Kastner.

  Tightening his grasp on the steering wheel, Joseph pushed aside the recollection. He’d told Dalessio that he intended to talk to Russel Ulmer, but he had nothing to say to the sick bastard.

  Russel was a loose end, and Joseph specialized in tying up loose ends.

  After another ten minutes of uneventful driving, Joseph pulled into a rundown parking lot beside a playground that wasn’t in much better shape.

  The flickering light of a ruddy orange streetlamp caught the face of his watch as he shoved the driver’s side door closed. With a cursory glance to ensure no would-be assailants lurked in the shadows, Joseph set off for the sidewalk at a brisk walk.

  A couple voices drifted over to him from the courtyard of a decrepit apartment building, but neither person’s comment was directed at Joseph. Residents in the neighborhood knew that a white man walking alone at night could only bring trouble.

  He hurried past a condemned duplex to the two-story Victorian on the corner lot. Even though much of the glow from the streetlights was blocked by a towering maple, Joseph could still see the spots where paint curled off the splintered siding. Cracks crisscrossed the sloping driveway like fault lines, and tree branches had scratched away almost half the shingles on the roof of the garage.