by Lea Hart
“I could probably manage one dinner and that’s about it. I have a busy summer ahead of me and I don’t expect to have much free time.”
“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” He crossed his arms and gave her the smile his mother always liked. “My art illiteracy has to be fixed and I think you’re the one to do it. Consider it a public service project.”
Stepping away again, she walked over to the last set of windows. “Maybe.”
The smile she gave him let him know the maybe she’d just thrown out could be turned into a yes, the moment he put some effort into it. “Let’s see the Chagall mosaic first. There’s a small Italian restaurant that’s not far from there and they have amazing risotto.”
“Are you talking about the Italian Village?”
“Yes, it’s the oldest Italian restaurant in the city. I may not know art, but I sure know food, and I’d like to take you to all of my favorite places.”
“Maybe,” she replied again.
Holding out his hand, he waited for her to walk in his direction. When she did and took his hand, he knew that all her maybes would soon be yeses. He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to her fingers, and winked. “I can’t wait to get started.” When her eyes fluttered closed momentarily, he let out a breath and knew whatever was happening between them was mutual. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“I can call an Uber unless you live in Wicker Park.”
“I live over in Lincoln Park and I’d like to deliver you to your door.” Leaning down, he made sure she was looking at him. “It would give me peace of mind to know that you’re home safely.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
Tucking her against his side, he led them out of the gallery and decided it was time to brush up on his art history. Because that last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a complete Neanderthal when they got together again.
This was a woman that he needed to impress, so he was going to do whatever it took. If that meant a crash course in art, then so be it. Looking down at her shiny hair made him realize that there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to make her happy.
Including becoming interested in whatever turned her on.
CHAPTER THREE
Thursday, May 25
Staring at his phone, Hank willed it to light up with a response to the text he’d sent earlier. When it remained blank, he let out a low growl of frustration. Three hours was more than enough time for someone to respond, and the fact that Stazi hadn’t bothered the hell out of him.
Was he acting like a lovesick teenager?
Probably.
Did it matter?
Absolutely not.
He’d never done it before, so he figured he was due. When he saw a flash of blonde hair pass his door, he yelled for Lucky to come back. She appeared in his doorway, and he motioned for her to come in. “How is the Godard case going?”
“It’s going. As far as I can tell, the nephew is the one responsible for the hack.” Holding up her hand, she gave him a grave look. “But I haven’t ruled out a co-conspirator. The fact that the son has erased all his emails makes me suspicious. I’ve secured the company’s site and left myself a nice little back door so that I can monitor what happens in the next week. Someone is about to panic and when that happens, we’ve got our culprits.”
“Nice work.” Crossing his leg over his knee, he tipped back in his chair. “So…have you talked to Stazi today?” The look of incredulity that crossed Lucky’s face didn’t bother him in the least. He needed intel and she was his only source.
Sliding into the chair that faced his desk, she responded, “No, because she’s at work, why do you care?” Crossing her legs, she gave him the gimlet eye.
He decided to ignore it and asked another question. “Why did you two speak to one another in Italian last night?”
“My, my, boss…you’re full of questions this morning. I didn’t think you had any left, considering how you grilled me last night at the gala.”
He shrugged and then moved some papers around on his desk. “I like to have as much information as I can.”
“To answer the three-hundred seventieth question about Stazi, we speak to one another in Italian because she doesn’t want to lose her fluency. She learned the language when she spent a year and a half there after college.” Twirling her hair, she laughed. “Also, it ensures that few people can understand us.”
“Makes sense.” When she made the give me more signal with her hand, he knew he was going to have to answer her earlier question. “I was a little worried because I sent her something this morning and hadn’t heard from her yet.” The high-pitched squeal that followed hit a nerve in his brain he hadn’t realized existed.
“Oh. My. God. You really like her. I feel like we’re in high school and you’re trying to find out if my friend is smitten with you.”
The mocking smile that accompanied the statement wasn’t anything he enjoyed. Best to face it and just be honest. “Yes, Lucky. I like your friend and I’ve invited her out for dinner.” Crossing his arms, he gave her a look that suggested the discussion was over. Unfortunately, Lucky ignored it and fell apart in a fit of laughter. Was she snorting like a pig because she didn’t think he had a chance or was it because he’d admitted how he felt? Whatever it was had her almost falling out of her chair. “Let me know when you’re done.”
He tapped his pen on his desk and hoped to God this was going to be a one-time occurrence. A knock on his door had him looking up and he realized there was justice in the world. Sam Barton, FBI Director, stood in his doorway with an amused expression. “Hey, Sam, come on in,” he said loudly.
The sound of laughter that had filled his office ceased immediately. “Lucky, look who’s here.”
The odd expression Sam gave him didn’t bother him in the least. As far as he could tell, the attraction was one-sided, and Sam had no clue that Lucky harbored a little crush. “What brings you in?”
Lucky wiped her face and stood quickly. “I better get back to work.” She gave Sam a small wave and almost ran out of the office.
“I stopped by on the off chance you had a couple of minutes,” Sam replied as he watched Lucky scurry out. Hooking his finger over his shoulder, he shrugged. “Why does she always do that whenever I show up?”
“No idea, man.” Holding out his hand, he motioned to the chair. “Have a seat and tell me what you need.”
“I just came from a meeting with a woman who may need your protection services. She’s a distant relative to the current Capo di tutti capi of the Outfit and she saw something she shouldn’t have.”
“The same guys we met last year with Grady and Sara?”
“Yes, unfortunately, the Outfit has had a resurgence of power. We had relegated them to nothing more than bit players in the Organized Crime Division until they promoted a veteran mobster to street boss. Solly D is proving to be smarter than we initially gave him credit for, and he appointed Albert Vena, who’s a hell of an operator. The guy is bringing the Capos together in a way that hasn’t happened in years, and unfortunately, they’re rebuilding and re-establishing themselves. Along with what seems to be a stable hierarchy, the organization has capable capos in place. They’ll never see the power and influence they commanded in their heyday but they’ve been rejuvenated to some extent, and don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
“When we ran the op last year, I got the impression they were just a bunch of aging gangsters who had outlived their glory days. They barely blinked when we showed up and gave them the ultimatum.”
Hank straightened his pant leg and then nodded. “They don’t like publicity and that’s exactly what Sara was giving them with her interviews. They also had a street fight about to start with the Albanians. This new guy is something else and the last thing we need to do is underestimate him.”
Hank glanced at the blank screen of his phone and then back at Sam. “What do you need from us?”
“The woman
who came forward with the intel doesn’t want to disappear, and I can’t keep her protected for very much longer. The only thing I can offer is relocation, but so far, she’s not ready, and I can’t assign someone to her while she comes up with an alternate plan.”
“Makes sense.”
“Unfortunately, the Russian Mob, also known as the Bratva, is using up most of my division’s resources, and I don’t have anything to spare. They’re the largest crime group in the world and we can hardly get our hands on them. It’s so fucking frustrating.”
“I didn’t realize that. The only time I’ve come into contact with them was when they were transporting opium in Afghanistan, and truthfully, they were the least of our worries.”
“It’s one of their many sources of income and, frankly, not the one I care about most. Unfortunately, our government is responsible for allowing them to find a home in Brighton Beach.”
“What do you mean?” Hank asked.
“When we expanded immigration in the nineties to Russian Jews, we saw the birth of Russian organized crime. Brighton Beach became the seat of power for a small but powerful group of people. Add to that the collapse of the USSR and almost twenty years later we have an extremely powerful organized crime group.”
Tapping his pen against the desk, Hank thought about what Stazi had told him last night. Her family was part of that wave of immigrants, and for that he was grateful. “Give me the particulars and we can evaluate what we need to do for your informant. Jason just came off an assignment and I can have him put something together.”
“Thanks, man. Grady protected Sara in a way that we couldn’t, and I don’t want anything to happen to this innocent woman who simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“No problem.”
“I haven’t heard much from Sara in the last couple of months, so I’m assuming she and Grady are settling into married life.”
Hank ran his hand over his face and let out a laugh. “I did a video conference call with him last week and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. The man hardly broke a smile during the five years we were on platoons together and now he can barely wipe the satisfied shit-eating grin off his face.”
Sam let out a bark of laughter. “He deserves it and hopefully he’s making Sara wear the same damn smile.”
Hank nodded in agreement and hoped like hell he might have a chance at the happiness his friend had. It had never entered his mind as a possibility before he met Stazi, but now that it had, he could think of little else. His phone vibrated on his desk and he picked it up and saw Stazi’s name. Fuck yeah, he thought to himself.
“Guess it’s good news,” Sam commented.
“Hopefully.”
“I’ll send the file on our informant to Lucky and have her do her usual magic with it. Once she’s done, let me know what you guys can do.”
“Absolutely.” Sam stood and so did Hank. “We’ll do whatever we can. It’s a company tenet that we protect those who can’t protect themselves, and we take these cases seriously.”
Hank put out his hand and they shook. “I know. That’s why I came by. Having my hands tied by bureaucracy is not something that I can live with, so I do what I can to keep people safe. No matter how far it makes me color outside the lines.”
“Yeah, for a Fed, you don’t follow the rules so good.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. When I joined the Hostage Rescue Team, I had no intentions of ever having a desk job.” Lifting his leg, he showed off his prosthetic and grinned. “Sometimes, you have to adapt.”
“Do good where you can, when you can, whenever you can,” Hank responded.
“Words to live by,” Sam said before leaving the office.
Hank watched him walk out and knew there were few men as good as Sam Barton in the Chicago office of the FBI. Maybe it was his prejudice that made him think like that about a fellow warrior. But so be it. As far as he could tell, the guy had dedicated everything he had in the fight against evil. First as a Delta operator, then as a respected member of the HRT team, and then, after losing part of his leg, behind the desk, fighting organized crime. The moment the man wanted to leave government service, Hank was going to make sure he ended up working with him at SAI. He was exactly the type of person they liked to have on the team.
Picking up his phone, he held his breath as he read Stazi’s response. Hopefully, he would have dinner plans with a beautiful, interesting girl and begin to discover what it was about her that made him half-crazy. The sooner he could figure it out the better.
CHAPTER FOUR
Friday, May 26
Stazi checked her phone before walking into the Violet Hour, which was one of her favorite bars. She was a bit early, so she sent off a quick text to Lucky, letting her know she’d be waiting inside. Once she was done, she turned her phone off and slipped into her purse because the bar didn’t allow cell phones. It was a small peculiarity that didn’t bother her in the least because they made some of the best drinks in the city. They also required proper attire and suggested you didn’t go with anyone you wouldn’t bring home to meet your parents. The place specialized in Prohibition drinks and had award-winning food, so if they wanted her not to wear jeans and keep her phone off, then she was totally on board.
As she grabbed a seat at the bar, she felt the cool gray interior soothe her nerves along with the soft light from the chandeliers. Waving to the bartender, she hoped to get a drink as soon as she could because ever since her meeting with the Ukrainian billionaire, she’d been jumpier than a cat.
When Greg the bartender approached, she gave him a big smile. “Hello, kind sir.”
“Anastasia, my love…how are you?”
“As good as can be expected. If you make me a Backup Plan, I’ll be infinitely better.”
“My pleasure,” he responded.
She watched him go to work behind the bar and let out a long breath. She was ready for the gin, Campari, and amaretto concoction more than she cared to admit. There were some other things in the drink, but she could never remember them. Watching Greg shake the drink and then pour it into a martini glass made her worries seem less tangible. Maybe the man she’d spotted following her half a dozen times meant nothing and she was simply being paranoid.
“That will cure what ails you,” he said as he slid the beautiful drink in her direction.
“God bless you,” she murmured before taking a sip. He gave her a wink and then moved down the bar to take care of the other customers. Looking into the mirror behind the bar, she saw how tired she looked, and knew her lack of sleep was due to the strange dreams she’d had. Before she could think too deeply about the one that involved her running away from an unknown assailant, Lucky slid into the chair next to her. “Hello, friend.”
Lucky leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then waved to Greg. She told Stazi, “Had a hard time getting out of the office.”
“You usually do. You’re indispensable to the company and I’m sure your boss appreciates you.”
Greg appeared before them and Lucky ordered an Old Fashioned, which the place was famous for.
“Speaking of my boss…are you going to go out with him or what?”
Letting her finger run up the stem of her glass, she shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Leaning back, Lucky let out a groan. “Is this going to be something you deliberate about until the opportunity passes you by? Because if it is, then Hank is going to become a bear. I’ve never seen him so…I don’t even know the proper word. Maybe rattled?” Her drink was delivered. She took a sip and then studied Stazi. “Tell me, what’s holding you back? He’s educated, has his own business, and is kind, smart, and a war hero. Not to mention good-looking. There isn’t anything to object to.”
Stazi turned toward her friend and held up a hand. “Exactly. He’s perfect. Absolutely freaking perfect. It’s not something that I’m comfortable with.” The other thing she wasn’t comfortable with was the way he made
her feel all jangly and out of sorts. From the moment he’d introduced himself and given her a frank stare, she’d felt the many layers of her defenses slipping away as they were atomized by the sheer shock of desire.
The fact that she hadn’t gotten those defenses back in place yet was worrying. Every time she had tried, the memory of the kiss he’d given her when he’d taken her home filled her vision. So, all she knew to do was stay away until she got herself under control.
Lucky let out a laugh and covered her friend’s hand. “So, you like him, but he scares you to death.”
“Yes.” Lifting her drink, she took a healthy swallow and stared into the mirror behind the bar again. The light dancing off the bottles reminded her of the luminosity in Hank’s eyes. When they’d stood in front of the Chagall windows, she noticed how bright and intense his eyes were. And when he kissed her under the streetlight in front of her building, she had been all but mesmerized.
Not that she needed to be thinking about that kiss. It had been over within seconds and yet it could very possibly have been the most perfect one of her life. “I’m too busy anyway. I have the trip to Italy coming up and a ton of work to do on the Modigliani project. It’s not the time to start something romantic.”
“You know that’s not how it works. Love happens when you have other plans.”
“I like how you go from mild interest to love in one motion. It’s probably nothing more than curiosity. Maybe he wants to dip his toe in the wild ethnic pool and I’m the lucky one who’s available.”
“This is like high school. You never believed that Steve Miller was interested. That poor polo player was smitten with you and you never gave him a chance because you insisted it was part of some bet he’d made.”
“Guys like Steve and Hank are never ‘really interested’ in girls like me. It’s like a visit to an exotic land that seems interesting at the time, but when you’ve been there a while you discover all you want is McDonald’s and not the crazy stuff that’s being served at the table.”