Dirty Deeds

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Dirty Deeds Page 17

by Lauren Landish


  She’s teasing, giving me a thumbs-up, and I almost even feel like smiling. Until I realize Nick is leering at me like he never has before.

  Before he can say anything, though, Shane steps between us, blocking his view. “Nick, we need to see Dominick. Now.”

  Nick nods once, moving to pat down Shane, looking a little embarrassed by it. “Protocol, man.”

  Shane allows it but barely manages to hold himself in check as Nick does a more thorough check on me, like I’d be hiding a gun in these shorts. I knock Nick’s hands away when he gets a little high on the inner thigh, though. “I’m clear and you know it, pervert. This ain’t the airport, and I’m pretty sure that ‘don’t touch’ rule still applies.”

  He smirks but turns and leads us into the main room. It’s well-lit, more like it is when we clean after closing each night than the usual dim ambiance I’d expected.

  But it lets me see the room and its inhabitants more clearly. Dominick is sitting alone at a table near the edge of the stage, right in front of the big pole that dominates the middle of the room, a glass filled with amber liquid on the polished wood beside him.

  As Nick takes his place, I can see that there’s a guard in every corner. Dominick doesn’t bother standing, just gestures to the chairs opposite him, and we sit.

  It’d almost feel like a double-date, Dominick and Allie on one side, and Shane and I on the other, if it weren’t for the pesky fact that things are about to go more than a bit sideways. Well, that and the guards in every corner.

  Dominick picks up his glass and takes a sip before setting it down and studying us curiously. “So you asked for this meeting. What is so important?”

  Shane looks at Allie, then back to Dominick. “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with us. And I apologize for asking that Allie be present. I know that would not be your preference, but I feel it affords us a certain amount of safety, considering the information I’m about to share.”

  Dominick’s face tightens slightly, just at the corners of his eyes, belying his anger, but he keeps his cool. I can see it now, the aura of power, the comfort in his place in the hierarchy. I’d been fooled that it was just about him being the boss of such a hot club, but there’s so much more. Not to mention, I think he has ice in his veins considering the cool tone as he speaks. “There is always risk to sharing information. I hope that you have not set either of us up for any . . . safety issues.”

  The pause in his speaking makes his threat crystal clear. I don’t need to look to know that each of the guards are on high alert, ready to handle us if there’s a problem. Or just at Dominick’s say-so.

  Shane and Dominick stare each other down for a moment, the testosterone and dominance contest drawing out between the two of them for too long, so I break in, hoping to deter the two alpha males from locking horns until one of them’s dead. “Dominick, I would like to apologize for lying to you.”

  My words aren’t totally unplanned. It was one of the many different scenarios that Shane and I went over, a way to keep Dominick off balance and willing to listen.

  The shock of my admitting to lying does exactly what we hoped, and Dominick’s attention diverts solely to me, his eyes now boring into mine with his eyebrows raised in question. “Meghan, you lied to me? Explain.”

  I start rambling, trying to get out the whole prepared speech at once. “My name is not Meghan. It’s Maggie Postland. In certain circles, Petals has a reputation. Apparently, it has several. But I was only aware of one . . . I didn’t know what Petals was, what you are. I just knew that celebrities of a certain caliber frequent the club for a bit of fun. I work as a tabloid reporter, writing stories strictly about celebrities. I began my job at Petals as a way of investigating these stories and wrote articles a few times.”

  My eyes tick to Allie, who looks like I just slapped her across the face. I focus on her, the next words not important to Dom, but I insisted on them with Shane. “But while I worked here, I found friends and a place of belonging, a family that worked together, day-by-day and shift-by-shift, to look out for one another. I found a self-confidence and power I never knew I possessed. It hurt every day to lie to them, because I care about them very much.”

  I look back to Dominick, who’s leaning forward a little, interested now. “I didn’t know exactly how deep the rabbit hole runs around here, and honestly, right now, I don’t care. My concern now is the trouble chasing me, trouble brought because I’m a part of the Petals family.”

  Dominick’s eyes have gotten colder as I’ve spoken, and I can see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches his teeth. His voice is a deadly whisper, but at least he’s not yelling as he looks around at the guards. “A fucking reporter? How the fuck did you get past the background check?”

  I shrug, downplaying my awesomeness because it doesn’t seem the time to brag about how many times I’ve successfully gone undercover. “I’m good at my job. Please feel free to take a moment to Google me. I promise, you’ll see I’ve only written a couple of stories that relate to celebrities attending strip clubs, and I never mention Petals by name.”

  He holds up a finger, reaching into his vest pocket with his other hand and fishing out his phone. He clicks around for a moment, and I speak up helpfully. “The only one that probably would’ve caught your attention is the Jimmy Keys story.”

  Dominick laughs, setting his phone down. “You broke that story? That guy’s a total douchebag, tried to stiff me on the bill too. I was glad he got busted . . . but not in my damn club.”

  His voice is hard again by the end, and my momentary hope that maybe he wouldn’t be too mad, at least about that part of our revelations, are crushed.

  I lower my eyes, unable to help it because I know there’s worse news coming. “Dominick, please. There’s more.”

  He huffs, sitting up as Allie lays a hand on his shoulder, helping to calm him. He glances at her and nods, waving a hand at me. “It’s your show, apparently. Tell me.”

  I glance at Shane, but he gives me a reassuring nod. I’m doing fine. Keep going. “So, the night of the shooting . . .”

  I see Allie flinch and give her a soft smile of apology for bringing up something that must be scary for her to think about. “That night, I was in the hallway after delivering the scotch, so I saw the hitman. I don’t think he even registered me at the time. I’m just kinda invisible to most folks.”

  I shrug because it’s the truth, but Shane squeezes my hand, and I know he sees me. He always sees me, and it gives me the strength to continue.

  “But yesterday, when Shane and I were lying low, the hitman found us. He’s tracking me, tying up loose ends because somewhere along the way, he realized I’d seen him and could recognize him.”

  Dominick steeples his hands, fingertips pressing together under his chin. “And this hitman chasing you, you want me to do something about it, I take it?”

  I nod, the plea in my eyes. “Please, Dominick. Help us.”

  “Tell me, Maggie Postland,” Dominick says, leaning forward again and studying the both of us. “The suit with the scotch. Do you know who he was?”

  “I didn’t then, but I do now,” I admit. “Carlos Rivaldi. This is where Shane comes in, I think.”

  Dominick looks to Shane, annoyance and anger clearly written on his face. “It appears you’ve been tagged. You’re it.”

  Shane holds Dominick’s glare with steady eyes before beginning. “Dominick, I want you to take a minute and think back on the time I’ve been working for you . . . the things I’ve done, the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve told you.”

  Dominick smiles, but it feels threatening, not friendly. “Yes, we have done some rather interesting things in your time here. And until this little incident, I thought you were a fine employee, one of the best I had. But what’s that got to do with this?”

  “Have the guys step out for this. Just you and me, and the girls. Trust me. Please.”

  They seem to be communicating with their eyes, taking eac
h other’s measure, but I think it’s the ‘please’ that does it.

  Dominick turns, his voice clear and sharp as he looks at the guards. “Leave us. Secure the building perimeter.”

  The security guys disappear at once, and I hear both the front and back doors open, then close. Dominick waits, then looks back at Shane. “Okay, we’re alone. Out of respect for what you’ve done and the honor you’ve shown toward all the ladies who work here, I did that. Don’t make me regret it. Now tell me what’s so important.”

  Shane nods and leans forward, his elbows wide on the table as he looks at Dominick. “Approximately twelve months ago, word on the street was that Sal Rivaldi was making progress, increasing the size of his operation, but doing it quietly and in small pocket areas that are only loosely in your control. The way things were looking, he was positioning himself to divide East Robinsville, or maybe take over the whole city.”

  Dominick leans forward, his eyes intense. “And you know this how?”

  Shane looks Dominick in the eye. There is no fear, no hesitancy, no apology on Shane’s face. “Because I’m FBI.”

  Dominick explodes, standing so fast his chair clatters to the floor behind him as he slams his hands to the table. Allie and I jump at the sharp sound.

  Shane stands too, holding his ground as Dominick stalks around the table to grab him by the shirt. Dominick rears back for a punch and Shane doesn’t try to block him, just keeps his voice level. “There’s more . . .”

  Dominick pauses, and I think for a second that he’s not going to punch Shane in the face. But he redirects the punch to Shane’s gut, the powerful hit echoing in the empty room.

  Allie cries out as Dom rears back again, and I can’t sit here and let this happen, so I yell, “Dominick, Sal’s declaring war! You have to listen!”

  Dominick’s head whips to me, one fist cocked back and frozen. “I thought you didn’t know anything about that side of the business? Hmm, Miss Postland?” he sneers. “Or is that another lie?”

  I’m trying to be strong, but I know my voice sounds weaker than I’d like as I stand up to him. “I didn’t before. I do now. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours learning so I can try to stay alive. Please listen.”

  He shoves Shane back, letting go of his shirt, and both men slowly sit, wary of each other.

  “That’s your freebie because I respect the fuck out of you, Dominick,” Shane says as he smooths his hair. “Next time, I’ll fight back.”

  Dominick’s eyes narrow, the coldness intimidating as frick even when it’s not directed at me, but Shane doesn’t flinch. “If you get a chance. But say your piece.”

  “I was sent in undercover in your operation, another agent in Rivaldi’s,” Shane says, leaning back in his chair. “It took some time to get that agent’s information, but I’m giving you all I have. Carlos was giving Sal shit, and you know there’s no love lost between the two of them. Sal decided he needed to stop the coup Carlos was stirring up, but for Sal, that’s not enough. If he’s going to kill his own son, why not use it as a power play? He knew that if he could pin Carlos’s death on you, he’d have the Colombians with him when he wanted to go hot around here. So he sent Carlos to Petals on a fool’s errand and secretly hired out the hit so it’d take place on your territory. Sal’s telling his whole crew you killed Carlos, and now he has the best justification ever to start a war . . . to avenge his son.”

  “The Colombians do go for family,” Dominick concedes. “Never hired a Colombian dancer for just that reason. Too likely to have some bloodthirsty cousin on my doorstep.”

  “But Sal set it all up—set you up. He’s making a play for more control, and he’s ready to war with you to get it.”

  I can see Dominick taking in everything, the calculations and strategies running through his mind as he plays out scenario after scenario. He reaches down, picking up his seemingly forgotten drink and draining the rest of it in one swallow.

  “That is a lot to think about, many things to consider. But tell me this, FBI agent. Why are you telling me all this? You wouldn’t be trying to entrap me into something, would you?”

  Shane chuckles darkly, crossing his legs almost casually. “No, Dominick. I’m not trying to entrap you. What you do with this information is your choice—war with the Rivaldis or don’t war with them. My thinking is this. There are devils in every world, some more evil, some perhaps less. But they’re necessary, to balance out the angels.”

  Shane takes my hand and looks lovingly at me before turning back to Dominick. “Sometimes, you help the devil you know is the lesser evil in the hopes that they will help you too.”

  Dominick looks from Shane to me and back. “Ah, so this is where the help comes in. You’ve given me information in the hopes that I will do something for you too. What is it you want?”

  Shane lets go of my hand and leans forward again. “The hitman. I’ve got a name. I’ve seen his face now too. He’s seen us and is hunting us still. I’m slightly worried about how he’s getting his information, but that’s a fight for another day, and likely solved if he’s dealt with the way I’d prefer. Right now, I need him to stop. Means and methods are yours to decide, of course. If you do us this favor.”

  Dominick nods thoughtfully and rubs his chin in consideration. “I do not like people who choose to do their dirty work inside my own place of business. It’s disrespectful and bad for my reputation, you see? It’s in my best interest to punish the hitman for his transgression, but I will say that it’s for your benefit and hold that over you. Agreed?”

  Shane nods. “One more thing . . .”

  Dominick smirks, the smug arrogance obvious on his face. “I thought there might be.”

  “We walk. Maggie and I walk away from all of this safely. Forever. No outstanding threats, no looking over our shoulders. You will never see either of us again.”

  That hurts, and I glance at Allie, knowing that if Dominick agrees, it means our friendship’s over too. But it has to be.

  “Agreed. You may both walk away safely, but I will not promise you will never see me again. Having friends in certain positions can be an excellent resource, so while I will not use you frequently, I will keep you available if the need comes up. And . . . Mr. FBI Agent, your East Robinsville privileges are revoked. Permanently. You don’t set foot in this town again. Unless it is by my invitation.”

  There’s a carefulness to his phrasing, the details somehow in the words he’s not saying. I can see the methodical strategic mind Shane said Dominick possesses, making contingencies until the end.

  I feel like we’re all pawns in Dominick’s chess game, but we’re still on move three and he’s already planned out his game to the checkmate move.

  Shane nods and offers his hand. “Agreed, with one caveat. You will not use either of us in a way that would endanger us, especially Maggie.”

  Dominick bows his head and offers his own hand. “I wouldn’t threaten a man’s family. That’s how cockroaches operate, and while I may be a devil in your eyes, I’m no cockroach.”

  They shake, and the agreement’s made.

  Chapter 22

  Shane

  “Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe Dominick’s going to help us!” Maggie exclaims happily, falling ungracefully to the couch. We’re upstairs at the club, in the private apartment Dominick keeps. I’ve been up here before, mostly on days when Dom’s stayed over himself. It’s a cush place, small but fancier than anything I’ve ever had for damn sure. And it’s not even his real home, just a crash pad.

  After reaching our agreement, Dominick ‘offered’ us the protection of the club and the use of the place. It wasn’t so much an offer as a demand. We’re definitely more prisoner than guest, but his protection comes with his rules, so here we are.

  I sit down beside her on the couch, pulling her legs into my lap and slipping off her shoes to rub her feet. “He’s helping, but we can’t get too comfortable in this gilded cage. I’m not certain he won’t flip on us. And w
e still don’t know what he plans to do about Sal.”

  Maggie looks thoughtful, smiling as she wiggles her toes for me. “Honestly, I’m not sure I care. All this mob stuff was happening before, right under my nose, and I was oblivious. If I wasn’t in the middle of it this time, I probably still wouldn’t know about this potential threat to the city. Maybe I’d be better off, happier in my blissful ignorance.”

  I run my hand along her calf up to her thigh, marveling at the power in her muscles and tracing the fading marks from last night. “Maybe so. But the power structure that directs the city, from politics, to businesses, to the streets, it’s all intertwined, and if things are running smoothly, you don’t notice them.”

  “Kinda like the sewer company?” Maggie asks. “As long as the toilets are working right, you never notice them.”

  I nod, thinking Maggie’s found a pretty good analogy. “You haven’t noticed things here because Dominick does a damn fine job of keeping himself seamless. If Sal were running things, you’d know the difference. You’d see it on the news, you’d feel it when you walked around your neighborhood. To be a part of the solution, you have to be aware of the problems . . . all of them, even the scary ones.”

  Maggie’s eyes bore into me even as she leans back against the couch cushion. “Is that why you do it, why you’re an FBI agent? To be part of the solution?”

  My hands still. I’ve known this was coming. We dropped these big bombs of who we are on each other but then had to let the issues lie while we got to safety.

  Now that we’ve got the semblance of protection, the tenuous pause on our questions drops away. “Remember how I told you about my dad?”

  Maggie’s chin dips as she whispers quietly. “Yeah. Barney Fife, more or less.”

  “Well, Barney Fife, who was about the same size as me, but yeah. He’s why I do this. I grew up seeing him help people, sometimes by being a big, powerful guy with a badge, but more often, it was by being an ear to listen to people’s problems and help them find a way out of whatever trouble they were having. When I was a kid, it was normal to come downstairs and find that Dad had taken in a stray overnight . . . sometimes a kid, sometimes a whole family, and a few times, a recently released felon who needed guidance to see the better path available to him. We had a couple of tents that Dad would let them use, or if the weather was bad, he’d let them crash on the porch or even inside in winter. I always knew I wanted to be a police officer like him, to help people.”

 

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