Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1)

by Tawa M. Witko

  “Are you done?” he asks.

  “I’m sorry, Valentino, yes I’m done,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. “A Muffaletta is a sandwich that consists of ham, salami, and pastrami piled on a seeded Italian roll topped with melted Swiss cheese and their olive salad. They serve it with French fries.”

  “Oh, that sounds good.”

  “It is, maybe before we go we should order one for Clayton that you can take to him.”

  “I don’t know if he can eat after all the food you gave us today, which we both loved by the way. Clayton was driving me crazy, reviewing after every single bite,” he says, shaking his head but he has a smile on his face.

  “He kept sending me texts all day, thanking me.”

  “Sorry about that. When he asked for your number I thought he might show some restraint.”

  “It’s okay. It was very sweet.”

  “No,” he leans over the table and kisses me, “you’re the one that’s sweet.”

  I grin as the waitress brings us our food.

  ~*~

  Glancing at the clock, I can feel the tears threatening again. He hasn’t texted me or called since he dropped me off earlier. I’ve been in the living room, waiting for him, but it’s almost one in the morning so I highly suspect he isn’t going to make it back to see me tonight. That thought alone brings the tears again. I feel like such an idiot for getting all emotional about this, but, in spite of what I wanted, we really didn’t talk about what we were going to do. He said he would come back but… I hear movement outside my front door and snatch Betty from my purse. When I peek through the peephole, I see Valentino standing there, looking down, his hand poised to knock.

  “Valentino,” I say as I swing the door open.

  He pushes through and grabs me immediately, burying his head against my neck as my hair falls over him. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds me tight against him.

  “How long were you out there?”

  “About ten minutes. It was so late. I was torn. I wanted to see you but…”

  I don’t let him finish as my mouth finds his, kissing him longingly. He lifts me up, cradling me in his arms as his lips continue to touch mine. He carries me back to the bedroom, laying me down. It’s only then that he notices that I’m still holding the gun.

  “Good girl,” he smirks as he removes the gun from my grip and sets it on the nightstand.

  He starts removing his clothes and I slip mine off as well. Every time I see him naked I am floored with how handsome and fit he is. His body is lean, his muscles taut. He is not hairy at all, just a spattering on his chest and then down his abdomen. He crawls over me, trapping me below him.

  “I don’t want this to be over,” he says sincerely and I feel the tears threatening again.

  “I don’t either.”

  “I’ve never felt this strongly for anyone. I usually cut and run but…” he gently caresses my face. “I can’t do that with you. I’m afraid to leave you, Dominique.” He blows out a breath and furrows his brows. “And I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “I don’t want to lose you. It feels like my heart just started beating again,” I say in almost a hiccup as I try unsuccessfully to prevent myself from crying.

  “Baby, don’t cry.” He leans down and gently kisses my tears away.

  He allows his thumbs to pass over my lips. My emotions are all out of whack. I’ve already fallen in love with him and I’m deathly afraid that my tendency of speaking what I’m thinking will get the best of me. He pulls me as close to him as he possibly can.

  “I’ll be back, Dominique. I promise, I will. You have my word.”

  I nod as tears fall from my eyes. He brings his head down, touching mine softly. He starts making love to me, much like he did the first night we were together. As my body focuses on what he is doing, my mind drifts to what he said. He cares about me. He will come back to me. Could he actually love me? I close my eyes and imagine a life with him.

  I love you, Valentino.

  23 Secrets Revealed

  Valentino Masterson

  August 2nd

  “Are you all right?” Clayton questions as we take our seats.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m tired,” I reply, looking out the window and watching the men load luggage onto the plane.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he questions further.

  I turn to him angrily. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. What are we, women, sharing our feelings and shit?”

  Clayton’s eyes narrow as his features harden. “I’m trying to help. I spent this entire time covering for you, doing extra stuff so you could play house with Dominique. I didn’t say anything. I did what I needed to do, for the team and for your ungrateful ass, because, in spite of everything, seeing you happy for once was worth it. So don’t take it out on me when I supported you all the way.”

  His glare does not soften as he turns away from me. I stare at him for a long time and finally sigh. I can’t blame him for being upset. He did shoulder most of the responsibility while we were here. He let me be with Dominique and didn’t complain at all. I touch his shoulder and he turns to me. His face reflects the anger and hurt he feels.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  “Hey, I apologized.”

  He finally grins. “I know but I wanted to savor the whole, I'm right thing,” he says, pointing his thumbs at himself.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head as I turn back to the window, seeing that the men have finished loading the luggage. I think back to last night and how difficult it was when I arrived at Dominique’s and could see that she had been crying. I want to believe she wasn’t crying about me but I know she was. I almost didn’t go over there because we had returned from the docks so late but I needed to know that she was okay, especially after the mess that had just occurred.

  “Valentino,” Clayton says, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah, what?”

  “I was thinking about last night and I really think we got played by Adams.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He turns in his seat to face me. “Adams knows we’re here. What if he made some calls, found out I had been asking around at the docks, set it up so that we would get some bogus information and waste all damn night trying to figure out what was going on versus focusing on finding other possible leads.”

  I run my hand over my head and blow out a breath. We had waited for close to two hours before the boat came in. There was a lot of movement and then several people arrived, including Mr. Beauchamp. He was directing people, who then began loading crates into an unmarked truck. On several occasions, Clayton and I thought we had been made because he looked in our direction. An hour later, the truck was on the move. We followed it right to the back door of Le Creole restaurant. Dominique had given me the code to get into the restaurant, so we had snuck in late but when we got to the storage room and checked the crates they were filled with Styrofoam, nothing else. All I could hear in my head was Enrico saying, ‘what cha got there, Ness?’

  “Valentino, did you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I did and I think you’re right. Except, it isn’t Adams messing with us, it’s Enrico. What he did was a scene from The Untouchables.” Clayton looks at me strangely, “In the movie, Elliott Ness gets a tip that this shipment of booze is coming in so he raids the warehouse, there are photographers there to capture this big bust and the only thing in the crates were umbrellas.”

  Clayton furrows his brows.

  “Enrico likes to see himself as Capone to my Ness, and as much as I don’t want to leave Dominique, we need to get back. Enrico is telling me something. He’s letting me know that he knows what I’m doing. I really don’t think Dominique knows anything but I’ll be damned if I do anything that leads the Sicignano to her door.”

  He nods. “Agreed. Do you think Jackson can keep an eye on her?”

  I shrug. “I hope so. He know
s how serious all of this is.”

  I run my hand over my face and close my eyes. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Dominique and I had made love and talked for over an hour before she dozed off. It took me a little longer as my mind wouldn’t shut down. I kept thinking about what me leaving meant for both of us as well as this tremendous foreboding I had related to Enrico. I eventually drifted off and was awoken by my alarm only two hours later.

  “Get some sleep, Valentino,” Clayton suggests and I nod.

  “We’ll head straight to my uncles when we get in, all right.”

  “No problem, man,” he says, picking up the inflight magazine.

  ~*~

  I haven’t said a word the entire ride home. I heard Clayton talking so I gave a cursory nod here and there but eventually he stopped speaking. When we landed forty minutes ago I felt the air suck out of my lungs and suddenly I couldn’t breathe properly. I had gone in the restroom to splash water on my face and try to get my act together but I feel off, out of sync. I was born and raised in Chicago, but right now the hustle and sounds of the city feel loud and out of place. I miss the sounds and atmosphere of New Orleans, I miss Dominique. I take a deep breath as we pull into the driveway.

  “Right when we get in I want to see the pictures on the big screen,” I say as I turn off the car.

  He nods and touches my shoulder before exiting the vehicle. He taps the trunk and I pop it open as he grabs his bags. I type a quick text to Anderson, advising him that Clayton and I are at the office and that I would check in with him after I debrief with my team. Oddly, he didn’t ride my ass about not telling him everything right away, which was good. I stare at my phone for a bit longer and then start typing again.

  V: I’m home

  D: Wonderful

  D: how was your flight?

  V: I slept through it

  D: I miss you

  V: I miss you too

  V: I need to go meet with my team. I’ll call you later.

  D: okay. I’m going to be going to the restaurant in about an hour so I can teach my chefs how to make my fried grits.

  V: Yum

  D: bye, Neo.

  V: bye, baby

  I close my eyes, not sure I like this Matrix thing we have going on. If I remember correctly, both Trinity and Neo die at the end of the third movie. I open my eyes when I hear rapping on the passenger window. Clayton motions his thumb towards the entrance to the Blue Sanctum and I nod, getting out of the vehicle. I quickly grab my things out of the trunk and catch up to him.

  “You didn’t have to bring me anything,” Jeff says, stretching his arms wide, like he is going to give us a hug.

  “You wish!” Clayton says, pushing him away playfully.

  “I actually did bring you guys something,” I interject.

  “You did?” Clayton asks, clearly surprised by this revelation.

  “Load the pictures,” I state simply as I walk to my bedroom.

  I drop my bag and the painting I got for Lynelle onto the bed and I smirk slightly, remembering being at Jackson Square and having Dominique help me pick it out. She was so attentive, wanted to know everything about Lynelle and what she liked. Looking around my room, I realize how empty my life here is. I wash my hands over my face and shake my head before pulling out a plastic container and walking into the living room.

  “Here ya go,” I say, setting the container on the small coffee table.

  “What is it?” Zach asks opening it.

  “They’re mini king cakes,” I reply.

  “How the heck did you keep those from me?” Clayton exclaims excitedly as he snatches the first one.

  “It was difficult, but I knew that if you knew then you would have bugged me the whole trip home,” I say with a chuckle as he nods.

  “What are king cakes?” Jeff asks curiously. “They look like donuts.”

  “They are a little slice of heaven, that’s what they are,” Clayton says as he inhales his.

  They each grab one as I take a seat. “A lot of things went down in New Orleans. I’m sure Enrico is involved. Have we been able to spot Martin?” I ask, getting down to business.

  “No, he never returned to his motel room,” Michelle states first.

  “He’s not with Enrico,” Jeff says around a mouthful of food.

  “Shit!” I don’t like the idea that he may still be in New Orleans.

  “Adams is clean, Masterson. His record is spotless. Hell, he has a ninety-six percent solve rate,” Zach adds.

  “Is he your new hero, O’Neal?” Jeff asks, snickering until Michelle thumps the back of his head. He starts to say something but doesn’t.

  “Hell no,” Zach answers angrily. “He’s dirty.” He turns back to me. “No one’s record is that clean. Not even mine.”

  “Really,” Michelle questions with a slight nod. She, like everyone else, assumes Zach is a saint.

  “There are more questions than we have answers to,” I say, shaking my head.

  Soon the pictures Clayton loaded are coming up. The first is of the restaurant itself so we start talking about the layout of it and then show everyone where the four exits are located, as well as the office and store room.

  “This seems similar to Il Nostro Modo. I wonder if Enrico has his set up like this as well,” Zach ponders.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” I say and motion for Clayton to continue. “There were two potential residents that we thought could be linked to the owners but we couldn’t get close enough to them, and when we researched, we found that they are owned by people who are currently deceased. We can look into them more from here.”

  Everyone nods.

  “The docks that was a mess and a wild goose chase. We were most likely on to something and they needed to distract us,” I continue with a heavy sigh.

  Clayton starts showing them the slideshow of the dock pictures as well as the storeroom as both of us briefed them on what happened. Jeff utters a few curse words throughout the conversation while Michelle looks more and more concerned. Zach has his brow furrowed and is tapping his foot uneasily so I know he has come to the same conclusion that Clayton and I did, that we were set up. When the pictures are done, I stand in front of them with my hands on my hips.

  “We have a lot to piece together. Thoughts?” I ask.

  “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around Adams shooting De la Fosse. It’s one thing to be an inside man for the Sicignano and quite the other to actually kill someone on their behalf,” Zach inserts.

  “Yeah, I’m with O’Neal on that. Dirty or not, I don’t think Adams pulled the trigger. My bet is on Martin,” Jeff adds.

  I look at Michelle and her whole body seems tense. “Jones, you have some thoughts on this?”

  “I don’t think Martin shot him,” she says simply and we all turn to her stunned.

  “He’s a weapons expert,” Clayton states.

  “I know, but in New York he never killed anyone,” she continues enthusiastically. I stare at her as does everyone else. I thought she said she didn’t have contact with him when she was undercover. She quickly recovers. “That’s what I heard, at least. My understanding was that he was Carmine’s bodyguard. He beat people up but never killed anyone, so why now, all of a sudden, would he cross that line?” she asks, looking around the room.

  “All right, let’s go back to the board, let’s add all this new Intel on it and see what it looks like all laid out,” I say.

  Everyone gets up and I notice that every single one of them grabs another one of Dominique’s king cakes, except for Clayton, who grabs two. We start putting everything up and begin discussing the merits of each idea, trying to narrow it down. We just have too many holes and need some help filling them.

  “I’m going to meet with Dimitri Komarovski,” I announce, looking at the wall.

  “What?” Clayton stands. “There’s no way you’re going to meet with him without me.”

  I glance at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I turn to Michelle, “Jones, smooth that out with Organized Crime, tell them a couple of agents will be meeting with him and to let it go.”

  She nods and I turn to O’Neal, “I need to figure out who these two people are,” I say tapping the picture of Phillipe with the unidentified man and woman. “See if there is any reference in Adams' files, but use discretion.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a sigh. I know that’s a hefty assignment but I think if anyone can find something it will be him.

  “Paulson, I want…” I pause and look at my phone that’s buzzing. “Hold on, Jeff, this is Anderson.” I click the receiver. “I’m not done with my team,” I begin; annoyed he isn’t letting me finish.

  “You are now. There’s been an explosion at Mariano’s. There are casualties and… Enrico and his people were there,” Anderson says stoically.

  “We’re on our way,” I say before hanging up.

  “We‘ve got to go. There’s been an explosion. Enrico was there,” I say, quickly grabbing my ATF jacket off the chair.

  Everyone moves quickly as we head out. When we pull up to the scene, the air is black around the building as we step out of our vehicles. All of us are wearing our ATF windbreakers and scowls on our faces. The stench of fire and death are all around us. The area has been roped off and the firemen are finishing up. I see Enrico to the side, standing with Gino and Aryana. He looks indifferent while Aryana smirks with glee. I turn to the side and see several bodies that had been strewn around with the blast. They are covered but I can make out women and children, families. I close my eyes as flashes of the explosion that took my family pass through my mind. My hand starts shaking and my breathing gets a little sketchy.

  “Valentino,” Clayton says, nudging me.

  I blink and look around. The entire team is watching me with concerned looks on their faces. I must have zoned out. I hear chuckling and footsteps approaching.