I laugh it off. "I think we have all been there at some point."
"I appreciate your bluntness, and I would like the same courtesy if I may?" he asks.
I nod, unsure of where this is going.
"I know that women like you don't hang around me for no reason. I’m sure you are aware by now who I am and the kind of money I have. That is fine with me. You can have whatever you want. Jewelry, a penthouse, dresses, shoes, a new job. . . .anything."
"Franco." My hand is on my heart as I gasp. I am sure it could go for innocence or adoration, depending on how he wants to see it.
"Just keep your mouth shut and legs open, little girl."
Chapter 8
Isabella
I don’t like this neighborhood. Not at all.
My hair is in a severe bun and my clothes as mundane as possible as I try to blend in with the population of the worst part of Hoboken. Apparently, I’m going to get to see both the best and worst of the New York area before I’m through with this job.
I go into the tiny cafe, a rundown old coffee shop where everyone is smoking and some band that is high off their asses are playing to find my seat across from a woman who looks like she was a model in her younger years.
This is Z, my handler, someone whose true name I still don’t know even though she is allowed to know everything about me. She has seen me through training with the CIA, she knows my crimes, and she knows who my family is. She probably even knows by now that I lost my virginity a little over a week ago. I certainly wouldn’t put it past her. But it’s in the job description.
"Well, there she is. Why do I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Can’t we get some hot chocolate or something first?" I ask, surveying the menu from where we are sitting, though I have to crane my neck a bit.
"You would trust something from here?"
"I mean, it’s clearly full of dirty lost souls, but I am sure they are up to code," I counter.
She dismisses me, and I leave my bag sitting there so she knows I am not trying to run and bring a small wad of cash to the register; several ones so that there’s no reason for anyone to follow me and mug me when we leave here and part ways. I don’t think Z is going to defend me in that situation, handler or not.
A young man, his face scarred from acne, greets me at the counter with barely a turning up of his mouth. "How can I help you?"
"Can you tell me what’s good to have here? I’ve never been." I lean over the counter, giving him a wink and probably making his day. It’s the least I can do for the poor kid who is probably stuck here the rest of his life because his parents can’t afford college. This is why I don’t like this neighborhood. It just makes me sad thinking about all the people that have to live here every day. How did I end up born into a family that worked for the mafia instead of a non-profit? Maybe I could talk to Marcel about finding a way to divert some Clans funds into something worthwhile one day.
"Well, anything caramel is pretty good, or raspberry, my personal favorite." This time his smile is real.
"Okay, then I will take a hot chocolate with a few pumps of raspberry syrup," I tell him, sliding the cash over in a way where he has to touch my hand to take it.
"Coming right up, Miss?"
"Teresa," I tell him, going with the fake name I am using right now. I don’t even look like a Teresa, it’s ridiculous they couldn’t give me something better.
I move over to wait on the drink and lean against the counter, feeling Z's eyes on me. I know I’m going to have to face the music with her, having almost no information. Hopefully, she will like that I have seen him three times now since the last time I spoke to her. It has to count for something, right? And then I can talk with Marcel about that missing brother and see what he can dredge up. I haven’t yet because he has been away for Clan business. Or so he says.
That insecure part of me worries that he just can’t or doesn’t want to face me after what we did together.
"Raspberry hot chocolate for Teresa!" another worker calls out. I grab it from her and make my way back to my seat, playing with the stirring stick nervously as Z's green eyes scan me.
"So, what have you learned?"
"Not much other than that he is a dirty old man," I scoff, letting the scalding hot first sip of the drink shut me up for a moment before I piss her off. "I’m getting there." I sit back in my seat, fanning my tongue. "I’m his girlfriend right now."
Z's hand goes to her mouth as she stifles a laugh, and I glare at her. "Look, I am glad you’re making some headway, but you know we need more."
"What better way to get more than to weasel my way into his very home?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"Touché. Well, I know they told you to use your womanly wiles, or whatever, but I didn’t expect you to follow through. I guess he really is a dirty old man. Good luck." She winks at me and walks out without having even one coffee or pastry.
When I get back to the hotel, I find Marcel in just a pair of jeans on the bed, having ordered room service and watching a rerun of Survivor on the television.
I stand in front of it and gesture to him. "Really, this is the greeting I get?"
"How’s it going?" he asks, and it takes everything in me not to just melt and lay at his side, begging for him to touch me the way he did last time he was here.
"Well, he is a dirty old man who told me I could have what I wanted if I spread my legs and keep my mouth shut, and I have a name I want you to look into."
He turns the TV off, and I swear he looks pissed. "Well I figured he was a dirty fuck." His fists are clenched.
"Yeah, he called me little girl."
"You know his dick is getting blown off when you’re done with this, right?" I just laugh at him. I can’t tell if he is being serious or not. "What’s the name?"
"Vinny Falcone. Apparently he went missing several years ago. There seems to be some contention with Franco and the boys about it."
"I recognize it, but I don’t know why. Let me do some digging. Maybe this will be the break you need, and you won’t have to crawl into bed with him."
Chapter 9
Marcel
My phone rings, and I answer it, hoping it’s a lead. Isabella is in the hotel gym working out while I do more digging to find out about this missing Falcone brother. She has made me promise not to make anything obviously link back to her as well as try to leave the Clans out of it. That’s kind of hard to do when most of my connections involve the Clans, but I suppose Aria’s husband will do as long as he doesn’t say a word to her or to his sister.
"Hello?"
"Marcel Funar, isn’t it?"
I don’t immediately recognize the voice on the phone, and it didn’t come from any known number, so I am certainly curious. "Funny how you know my name and I don’t know yours."
"Christian Steele ring a bell?" he asks.
"The gunrunner?"
"That would be the one. Now that we have the formalities out of the way why the fuck don’t you tell me what the hell has you digging around to find information about Vinny Falcone?"
He sounds good and pissed. I have to play this right so I can get him to tell me what he knows, but the Steeles are often known as loose cannons, they don’t answer to much of anyone other than each other even if they do work for the MCs and even the Clans on occasion. But they are on no one’s side, not really. They are worse than the Arcane when pissed off.
"Let’s just say I have found myself a little too involved with the Falcones and need a little dirt to get them off my back," I tell him, hoping not to give away too much.
"If it were up to me, I would see them all dead. Luckily, I have already seen one of them kick the bucket," he answers.
"What do you mean by that? Are you saying that Vinny isn’t just missing?"
"Hell no, he’s dead as a fucking doornail. Vinny is dead. We killed him."
By his word 'we', I am assuming he is referring to him and his brot
hers. Although, something tells me there’s more to the story.
"Would you like to tell me the reason you offed him?" I press, but I know I’m probably going to hit a brick wall with this one.
"We had our reasons. Look, if we figure out anything you can use, we will be in touch, but I can’t really help you. Got to protect my own and all in this. Clearly, they still don’t know he is dead if all you know is that he is missing."
I sigh. "Understood."
I hang up just as Isabella comes back in the room, a little sweat stain coming around the front of her pink tank top. If we weren’t in the middle of trying to keep her from sleeping with an Italian crime boss, then I might give her a reason to keep sweating, but this has gotten out of control.
"I think we are over our head here with the Falcones. I just heard from one of the Steele brothers, and apparently they offed Vinny. He wasn’t forthcoming as to why, but he wants to see them all dead. Look, Falcone has plenty of enemies but also a lot of secrets he has kept close to his belt for too long. Maybe we should just go to Ion."
"Ion!" she screeches. I don’t think I have ever seen Isabella truly angry. "We cannot tell the head of the Clans that I am a CIA agent. Not only will the CIA and original FBI agents that captured me come for me then, but my father and I will both have our heads chopped off by the king and queen of the mafia. It doesn’t matter what kind of people they are, a CIA among the Clans means they could get in deep shit. It makes me enemy number one!"
"You need to calm down, Isa. I don’t think it will be like that. It isn’t like they assigned you to come after the Clans. It would be in their monetary interest to take out the Falcones anyway."
She shakes her head, her lip stiff. I know she has made up her mind here. She is scared of the repercussions.
"Don’t try and convince me of this, Marcel. It’s a hell no! If my secret gets out I’m screwed. Did you not remember what I did? I signed for a fucking gun shipment to Tehran!"
"I hate to break it to you, domnișoară, but you’re about to tell an entire hotel that you did that. Don’t you think Ion can make that go away."
"I am sure he can, but it would be easier to make me go away." She runs to the closet and begins to pull down clothes, a pile on the ground.
"What are you doing?" I ask her several times as she quickly changes into something else.
"Going to see my new boyfriend. He is waiting for his little girl."
She leaves and slams the door leaving me in both anger and agony, just like every time I think she is going to let that man touch all over her. I just want her to be mine now. The most painful thing in the world is being so close to someone you can’t have.
Chapter 10
Marcel
I’m a nervous wreck until she walks back in the door. She has been gone all night, and it’s just after dawn when she gets in. I don’t care if he has dipped his shriveled old dick in her at this point, I’m going to make some things clear.
The moment the door shuts, I’m on her, pinning her against it. My tongue flicks out of my mouth to lick at her lips and my body presses hard against her. There will be no gentleness in this. I have to make it known just how I feel about her. I want her to think of only me every time she has to be in his arms. Every time she fakes a smile or a sigh for him. It will all be for me.
I flip her around so her palms slap against the wall, her bag falling to the ground at our sides. I reach around and undo her jeans, tugging both them and the black thong she is wearing down to her ankles. Her taut ass is on display in front of me, and all I want to do is smack it until it is as red as an apple.
"You don’t ever leave me like that again."
I smack her once, twice three times on the right cheek until she cries out at me to stop. "I don’t care how angry you are. We are connected now." I let my own jeans fall, nothing underneath, and press my hardness against her ass as if to prove what I mean.
I lift her shirt up from behind with my hands until I can hold a breast in each hand, but I am not looking to massage them even as soft and supple as they are. Instead, I pinch at each nipple, showing her how pleasure and pain can sometimes be the exact same thing. When I am done with her this time, there is going to be no virgin left in her. She is going to know the dark and light side of sex and love it all.
As long as it is with me.
I tweak her nipples a few more times until they are hard as rocks, her moans coming out like a symphony now and her legs shaking with need.
I slide my hand down to feel the warmth and dampness of her waiting center, trained to want me already. I give her groin a light smack before flicking my thumb along her clit, the nub swelling with my touch. My cock presses between her ass cheeks, and my other hand holds her to me.
"I'm still angry at you," she says between labored breaths.
"That’s okay with me. As long as you know that you are no one’s little girl but mine," I growl out before thrusting my hips away from her ass and plunging into her from behind.
I go deep, ripping through her until there is nowhere else to go. I slam into her insides, forcing them to stretch to accommodate me much too soon. Her moan is of pain, but she also slides her hands down, her ass sticking out towards me for more leverage. I clutch onto her hips and slide back before slamming forward once more.
“Fuck!” I hear her curse.
“Little girls don’t talk like that,” I tell her. “Is daddy going to have to wash your mouth out with soap?”
I gather her long hair in my hands and pull so that her neck is straining. She can barely eek out more than tiny sighs as I continue to assault her insides until she is putty in my hands.
Then, I throw her down on the bed and get up on my knees, only to plunge in once more.
“What are you?” I ask her as I pull back and go for it again, not letting her even catch her breath.
“I am. Your. Little girl.”
Chapter 11
Isabella
I always spend a month in the Hamptons this time of year. Would you like to come with me?
I stare at the text message with Marcel lying beside me. Him there instead of on the pullout couch has been a more common occurrence than what it should have been. That is hard for me to admit, as much as I’m madly in love with him and the way we are together, but it’s the truth. My head needs to be in the game.
Though, it's not a game at all. I can’t keep thinking of it as that either. It’s time to grow up and do my job or else people I care about will get hurt. I will rot behind bars.
I might even die if this doesn’t go well, and I have unwittingly dragged Marcel, the man I have loved from afar my whole life, right into this with me.
It sounds amazing.
I crawl out of bed and begin to pack a small bag, anything I might need on this trip to the Hamptons. I’m shocked he asked me, though he must simply be between women now. We haven’t even had sex yet, though I am sure it is coming. There have been plenty of kisses and ass grabs now, ones I try to pretend are Marcel and not this old crime boss that is responsible for so much death.
It may be hypocritical considering the fact that Marcel has also been and will also be responsible for many deaths, but I don’t think they are one in the same. The Clans try to do some good things in the mix and take out their enemies when they give them no other choice. From what I hear, the Falcones just kill because it’s fun and they can. They have the power to, and they get off on it. These deaths are senseless.
It makes me not feel so damn bad about that brother they lost.
I'd love to see you over at the house.
I know my time going back and forth between Marcel and Franco is over. I know that Marcel and I cannot be anything, not really, until this mission is over. I just hope I make it out alive so we can really give it a shot. But right now, I am Teresa Erins, a young business minded gold-digger. I am no longer Isabella Zugra, innocent daughter of an accountant. I don’t know if I will ever truly be her again.
I'll call a cab <3
I almost gag at my use of emojis like that, but it’s part of this role I am playing; this bubbly girl that easily has Franco wrapped around her finger.
The last thing I tuck in my baggage is my burner phone, purchased two days ago just in case I need to reach my handler or Marcel for a report or safety purposes. But it’s only business. Nothing more. My personal phone has been wiped from anything that could give me away to Franco or make him angry. I didn’t know when this day was coming when I would have to leave Marcel in his sleep, but now it is here. It was inevitable.
I lean down and gently kiss his forehead, whispering an inaudible goodbye to him. He will find a message on his phone, a voicemail explaining why I had to go and what might be if he is willing once the Falcones are locked away or dead, whatever comes first. I don’t really care either way.
I wipe away the only tear I allow myself to have over this and make my way out to wait for a cab to come by and pick me up and take me to the house that just might contain the incriminating information I need. Just what Z needs to get me off the hook with the weapons trafficking charges and let me back into my normal life.
The ride isn’t a long one. I have never been to his house before, but I know where it is; the west side of Manhattan. It’s just as well known for its fancy houses and the rich, but many of these people are rich because of things they do that they shouldn’t. Shady businesses and drug deals are just a few of the crimes that go on behind the closed doors of these glistening high rises.
We stop at one, the kind where I have to give my name at the front desk and they check a list before leading me to the elevator and taking me up to the correct floor; the 40th, to be exact. The servants leading me around continues even when I get into the flat that the Falcones call home. Well, at least Lupo and Franco live in the same house. I’m unsure about the other two men.
Covert (The Clans Book 9) Page 4