by Cindi Madsen
“Yeah, murder versus building schools. I wonder which will stick out in the jurors’ minds.”
Uffizi kept on leafing through his file, as if the magic key to everything was simply buried in the pages he lugged around. “The weapons found at Rossi’s are pretty damning. We’ll argue that anyone who worked there had access to them. Give reasonable doubt that they’re yours at least. Who else has access to the safe?”
“Vince, Sal, Dante.”
“We could suggest it was one of them. Vince doesn’t have any priors. Well, not any after he was eighteen, which is what’s important. If they charge him, I’ll find a way to get them to dismiss it later.”
Carlo hated to even think about it. But if Uffizi could make sure Vince didn’t actually get punished for it… Dante was already on his third strike, so what was one more minor charge to him? He could deal down. Then there was Sal. The gnat would probably volunteer if Carlo spun it right.
“Let’s hold off.” Carlo hoped he wouldn’t get desperate enough to consider it. It wasn’t who he was.
Then again, neither was being a prisoner.
***
Cassie put in food orders for two of her tables and then took a quick minute to catch her breath. The Front Range Steakhouse was hopping tonight, the country music blaring louder than usual. Good thing she spent so much of her free time at the gym lately, or she might not have the endurance to make it through the rush. It was part of her “just-in-case” plan, the part she hated most. Although, she might not fail P.E. if she took the physical tests now. She’d also taken self-defense classes and even dragged Deanne along with her.
An elbow to the nose or kick to the groin wouldn’t help much when it came to snipers or drive-bys, but she needed to do something that made her feel in control. The sessions at the shooting range also helped. She was a good shot before, but now she could hit the bull’s-eye every time with the subcompact Glock 27 Vince had given her.
When she wasn’t at work, the gym, or the shooting range, she was scouring the internet for coverage on Carlo Rossi’s upcoming trial. The lack of information frustrated her, so she tried to push her search to once every other day. So far she’d made it exactly zero times.
The cook yelled that one of her orders was up, sending her back into motion. At least the busy nights helped the hours pass faster. Balancing the tray of food in one hand, she weaved her way through the restaurant, placed the plates in front of a family of five, and asked if they needed anything else.
She’d just turned to give one of her tables their bill when she caught sight of three Italian men at the front who looked like they were straight from Jersey.
Her heart pounded as she ducked behind a wooden post and watched Allie, who was working as hostess tonight, lead them into her section. Shit, shit, shit. I wasn’t careful enough. Vince was right. I should’ve moved more.
Surely they wouldn’t just shoot me here in the restaurant?
No, they’ll wait until afterward when I’m leaving work. Or follow me home. The pounding of her heart kicked up several notches. She walked in the opposite direction, trying to come up with a plan, and nearly ran smack into Owen as she rounded the corner.
“Are you okay, Katie?” he asked, putting his hand on her arm.
For the past month, everyone from Maude to Deanne and the rest of the wait staff was trying to push her and Owen together, so she’d taken to avoidance. Not easy to do with a guy who happens to be one of your bosses. “Totally. I was just…going to get drinks and realized I’d forgotten what one of the people wanted. But then I remembered, so…yay!”
His eyebrows drew together. “You’re being weirder than usual.”
“Hey! I’m not weird.”
“Okay, dodgy. You get dodgy sometimes, which is kind of weird, to be honest.”
Cassie couldn’t help but laugh, but since she was still freaking out about the group of Italian guys, it came out a bit hysterical sounding. “Well, guess I’ll just dodge to the drink station now, then. See ya!”
Abandoning all attempts to appear sane, she crouch-walked from post to post. When she reached the other side of the restaurant, she peeked over a booth at the group of men. She didn’t recognize any faces, but that didn’t give her much comfort.
Maybe I should just grab my backpack, run out the back door, and move again. Deanne had asked why she took her bulky backpack everywhere, and this was why. So if she had to, she could flee at a moment’s notice.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around, ready to employ her defense moves. Allie, the bouncy hostess said, “You’ve got a group at table ten.”
“Did they ask about the waitresses?”
Allie blinked at her, confusion crinkling her forehead even as she held her signature beauty-queen grin. “No, but I’m sure they want one. How else would they get their food?”
Cassie liked to think she defied blond stereotypes; Allie epitomized them. Deciding it would be much more effective to talk to someone with a little more going on upstairs, she walked along the edge of the dining area and found Deanne.
“Hey, I need a big favor,” Cassie said.
“Sure thing. Talk as I grab these refills?” Deanne lifted the two empty glasses she had in her hands, and Cassie followed her to the drink station.
“Can I swap table ten for one of your tables? If they start asking about the waitresses here, be really vague. And then come tell me right away.”
“You’re acting really weird.” Deanne tilted her head. “And you look scared.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in after work, but I just need to not go over there.”
Deanne put her hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “You know I’m your girl, whatever you need.”
Cassie hugged her, nearly spilling the freshly filled drinks in the process. When had she become a hugger? She wasn’t sure, but it made her realize just how attached she was to the people here. She still missed Vince with a consuming amount of longing, but she had a makeshift family, and she didn’t want to leave them.
More than anything, she didn’t want to put them in danger.
Unfortunately, all of Cassie’s tables were in the same vicinity as the possibly-sent-here-to-kill-her guys. She used trays to block her view, walked sideways, and tried to observe from afar when she could.
As she quickly passed the table she was doing her best to avoid, she thought she heard her name. Her real name. She quickened her pace and headed toward the kitchen.
“Hey, you. Wait a second,” a guy said, his Jersey accent so thick she could hardly wade through it.
Cassie froze. Run? Scream? Kick? Punch? No matter how much air she tried to suck in, her lungs refused to work.
A hand came down on her shoulder, and her panic screeched into three-alarm territory.
She whipped around and took a giant step back. Her pulse hammered through her head as she looked for a weapon. Not in his hands. His shirt was tight enough she didn’t think he could hide it. Unless he had it at his back…
“Where’s the bathroom in this joint?” he asked.
It took a moment for her to process the question and another before her mouth remembered how to work. “It’s back there, right around the corner.” For some reason, she broke out the Oklahoma twang extra heavy. “Just look for the gents sign.”
The man walked past her and hurried toward the restrooms. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. Okay, now I’m sure I’m going crazy.
Just not sure enough to fully relax.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Vince stared at the computer screen in the library. This was his second attempt at digging into Kate Jones. He looked in Oklahoma and also did a search where the Culinary Institutes of America were located in California and Texas.
Every time he scanned through the results, he hoped he wouldn’t find Cassie, while hoping he would. It made no sense, but neither did his life right now. He was “hiding in plain sight,” running Rossi’s like nothing had ev
er changed, when everything had.
Agents McVee and Mancini kept telling him he’d have to go into the witness protection program right before they released his name and testimony to Carlo’s lawyer. He’d considered telling them to just let people come after him, because then he could slowly weed them out until Carlo didn’t have anyone to send.
Only if he failed, he couldn’t testify, and Carlo might get away with everything he’d done, and Cassie might never be safe.
So he would play along with the FBI’s request when his name was released, but after the trial, he was out of here. He’d track down every single Kate Jones until he found Cassie. If she’d started a new life and was happy, he would leave her alone—and he told himself that was what he wanted. And that he could actually leave her alone. But if not, he’d find a way to make her happy.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, the ringer muted, and he glanced around before pulling it out. Allegra. Again. She’d left a message that Carlo wanted him to visit and was probably following up on the request.
Vince supposed he should go see his uncle to keep suspicion off himself, but he’d already experienced enough conflicting emotions over turning in Carlo. He’d testify in order to keep Cassie and Bobby safe, but he wasn’t going to sit down and play pretend with his uncle and deepen the betrayal.
He cleared his search history and logged off the computer. As he passed the bookshelves he paused. Maybe a good book would help him pass the torturously slow hours where Cassie crossed his mind more often than not. With a finger on top of one of the spines, he slid out the book and glanced at the exposed half of the cover.
A romance novel. Of course.
One of his good memories of Mom involved her telling him and Bobby stories around the dinner table. Most of them involved amore prima vista. He’d thought love at first sight was a crock of shit, but he could still remember the first time he laid eyes on Cassie. An electric current had twisted through his body, firing even hotter when she smiled and pushed up her glasses. He should’ve known he was a goner right then and there. Turned out amore prima vista wasn’t crap after all.
He repeatedly told himself that staying with her would’ve been stupid, because it meant risking both of their lives—as well as Bobby’s—but right now he felt even stupider for not leaving a sure way to find her.
She’ll be better off. Me, not so much, but her… He shoved the book back in place. Nothing could keep his mind of Cassie.
When he returned home, he noticed footsteps in the snow that’d fallen this morning. There was his set going out, but there was another set going in. He reached for his gun, thumbed off the safety, and slowly opened the door.
He stepped lightly, careful not to make any sound, and swung his gun toward the creak to his left.
“Jeez, Vince! Put that away before you shoot someone, will ya?” Bobby grinned at him, his usual grin, but with the added color to his features and extra weight on his bones, it was a grin he hadn’t seen in years.
Vince strode over and threw his arms around his brother, and there in the kitchen, they clung on to each other for a solid minute. Both of them would take it to the grave, but he could tell he wasn’t the only one choked up. They slapped each others’ backs a few times to regain their control.
“I’m glad to see you, man, but I don’t think you should’ve come back here,” Vince said.
“I was careful. But I had to see if you were in Jersey.” Bobby leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Now, tell me what’s going on, because it looks like everything went to shit the second I left.”
***
Cassie told Owen to please tell Deanne she’d meet her at home. They tried to work the same shifts so they could ride together, as Cassie didn’t currently have a car. They usually got them, too, because they were tight with the owners.
Owen decided to be difficult and asked why she couldn’t tell Deanne herself, so she just yelled, “Thanks, bye,” like she hadn’t heard him, and took off.
As she pushed out the side exit of the restaurant, Cassie reached into her backpack and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the Glock. She walked as quickly as she could, watching her surroundings and checking for a tail. She knew she’d get in trouble for carrying a concealed weapon without a license, and she was going to try to get one eventually, but she figured it was better to be armed than sorry.
When the group of Italian men didn’t emerge from the shadows, and she’d made it a half-mile with no one trying to shoot her, she relaxed a fraction, but didn’t release her grip on her gun. She skimmed her gaze along the top of buildings, even though she doubted she’d see a sniper before it was too late.
As usual, brain, thanks for taking my worries to the next level.
Finally satisfied no one was lying in wait, she hailed a cab. The entire way home, she watched the vehicles behind her, which wasn’t easy to do in the dark. Once she arrived at her apartment, she cleared the rooms the way she’d seen Vince do, hoping she was doing an okay job of it.
After every nook and cranny was cleared—even the ones too small for a person to hide—Cassie grabbed Deanne’s laptop. She couldn’t find anything new on the upcoming trial, just the same article from before. Even though she’d read it a dozen times, her eyes still scanned through the paragraph about Carlo.
The fifty-three-year-old head of the clan, Carlo Rossi, was arrested along with his closest associates. The accusations include murder, conspiracy to commit murder, drug trafficking, and racketeering.
There was mention of confiscated assets and the theory that most of them would be charged with The Racketeer Influenced and Corruption Organizations Act (RICO). Cassie had searched up everything she could find on RICO. She’d smiled when an article said that New Jersey took RICO very seriously, then scowled at the screen when first-degree racketeering charges were only 10-20 years in prison and a fine up to $200,00.
Not that she wanted to serve twenty years or had the money to pay that kind of fine, but it didn’t seem like enough for a guy who threatened people with violence and guns, dealt drugs, and shot a person begging for his life point-blank in a back alley.
What if Carlo didn’t get convicted of murder? It didn’t seem right, and then ten years from now, she’d be constantly looking over her shoulder, the way she had to tonight.
What if Vince’s testimony isn’t enough? I could help.
The sound of a key sliding into the knob jerked Cassie into action. She cleared her search history and pulled up Google so she could pretend to be looking up something normal.
What was normal these days? She felt so out of touch with the concept of normal lately, even though she supposed the past six weeks she’d lived a life that might be described that way. All except for tonight when she got a reminder that several people out there wanted her dead.
Deanne gave her a stern, crinkled-forehead glare she’d never seen before—usually her roommate was all sunshine and rainbows. “Katie Jones, what the hell? You give me one of your tables and then leave without me? Tell me what’s going on with you, and you tell me right now.”
“First, tell me if any of the guys at the table asked about a waitress.” Cassie held her breath, terrified of the answer and wondering what she’d do if they had. Deanne wouldn’t know to look for tails. Cassie thought about her gun, now way too far away in her nightstand.
“They just ordered their food like a normal group,” Deanne said. “They were a bit rowdy and hit on Allie apparently, but if we didn’t serve any of the guys who did that, we’d be turning people away constantly. Why did you look so scared?”
“They just reminded me of some people I used to know. It brought back bad memories and I…I just freaked out a little. I’m sorry.”
The stern expression faded, and Deanne sat next to her on the couch. “We all know something bad happened to you.”
“We?”
“Maude, Owen, me. Harold, too, probably, but you know how he is about trying to stay out of people�
�s business.”
Cassie’s heart clenched. In some ways, their concern was nice—in a lot of ways actually. Since Dad had passed away, she had very few people who checked in on her well being. Just Annie occasionally, and then Vince, who cared so much that he’d left her to try to keep her safe. While she understood, how exactly she felt about his decision depended on the day. Today she wanted him next to her more than anything. She wanted him on the sidewalk, watching for danger. Wanted him to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot danger existed.
But on the other side of that concern was the downside of having to lie to those people. More than she wanted to.
“Wanna talk about it over dessert?” Deanne asked. “We’ve got a pint of mint chocolate chip and your Neapolitan, although I think the chocolate part of it’s looking kind of scarce.”
Yeah, I used to have a guy to help me level it out. A sharp pain jabbed her heart. Six weeks and she knew time would never be enough to heal the hole Vince had left.
Cassie forced the best smile she could, digging deep so Deanne—who was starting to know her all too well—couldn’t see through it. “Now you’re starting to solve problems like Maude.”
Deanne laughed and went for the ice cream.
Cassie tried not to think about how she only had a little more time to soak in nights like this with her roommate.
Not sure how I’m going to deal with missing her after I leave, but I know it’s going to royally suck.
Chapter Forty
Three months of working at Front Range Steakhouse and spending Sundays at the Hurst’s had somehow gone by forever slow and too quickly at the same time. There’d been Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s, and Cassie spent them all with the Hursts and Deanne.
Besides working on staying in shape and keeping up her shooting and self-defense skills, she devoted a considerable amount of time to studying trials of former mobsters and how the courts worked in general. Carlo’s trial started in a little over a month, and after thinking she’d never make it this long, it was suddenly almost here.