“We’re wrong about him,” she said point blank, and her gaze was unwavering. “Titan certainly isn’t a saint, but he isn’t a cold-blooded killer.”
“He’s not a choir boy.” A look of puzzlement crossed his face. “It’s a fact that you know. The hard evidence goes against your argument.”
She pushed the pile of bulging files towards him. “What hard evidence? It’s certainly not here. We’ve been making assumptions and trying to find loop holes to make him fit.” She pushed her argument home. “He doesn’t fit the puzzle, Rowell. Is he an outlier to the game? Of course, he is. But, he’s not like Vitali or that rotten lot that he runs with.”
“Are you meaning to say that you found nothing while you were there?”
She resisted the urge to squirm in the seat.
Well, not exactly.
Clearly, her defense of him had Rowell on high alert.
There was that tad bit of information she’d heard while eavesdropping. However, she wasn’t going to bring it up yet. Not at least until she learned everything.
She had to trust her gut instinct.
He wasn’t like Vitali.
She had to protect him.
“No, I didn’t find anything incriminating.”
She tried not to look guilty.
Truth was, she was harboring information. So, the fact that she was actually withholding it shot all kinds of holes into the “great agent concept” and hurled her into further turmoil. A powerful war raged in her conscience, and the opposing sides were the agent and the woman, herself. The burning question was----who’d be the victor in the end?
“Contrary to popular belief.” She tilted her chin higher. “He’s not the cruel monster that everyone believes.”
“Impossible.” Rowell gave an incredulous laugh. “He’s Vitali’s offspring, and like his father, he’s on a straightway to hell.”
“And you would know that how?” she asked passionately, a little too much. Clearing her throat noisily, she dialed it down a notch. “Rowell, as you stated, I have spent a considerable amount of time with the man. I know how he operates.”
“True, I don’t know the bastard firsthand. But, I know of spineless cowards just like him. He’s soulless. Like the others, he feeds off the blood of the innocent. Quite truthfully, I find your defense of the man to be both stunning and unsettling.” Releasing an exasperated breath, Rowell leaned forward in the rickety chair, and it squeaked under his weight. “Alright, go at it. Prove your point. Explain to me why he should be exonerated.”
“Please hear me out. I know it sounds crazy, but my gut is telling me that we’re off base with Titan. If you were with the same man that I’ve been with these last weeks, you’d find my argument to be very credible.” She fought to hide the passion in her voice. “His character says so much about who he really is, and he’s not the deranged sociopath that we’ve imagined---”
“Are you being real right now, Spencer?” he asked, aghast. “You almost sound like you admire the guy.”
“Didn’t you ask me for the truth?” She braced both hands against the table, and her tension was evidenced in every muscle. “I’m giving it to you!”
“No, what you’re giving me is some romanticized version of what he wanted you to see. Don’t you get it? Men like Titan don’t bleed. They have to play a certain role so that the rest of society can’t smell their stench. He was just playing you.” The look of incredibility heightened on his features. “Damn it, Spencer. I can’t believe that you fell for it.”
Fuming, chest heaving, she leaned back in the chair. “I find that statement incredibly insulting.”
“Why? I’m a straight shooter. It’d be criminal of me to lie.” Rowell released a breath. “Of all people, I thought that you’d be above gullibility. I suppose that I was mistaken.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Come on, it’s no secret that Titan’s the consummate playboy. Hell, he lives, breathes, and shits women. You’re a beautiful woman, so it only makes sense that he’d woo you as well.”
The words cut to the bone.
Were Rowell’s words true?
Had she fallen into the trap?
“I’m not a fool,” she said calmly. “And I’m certainly above the amorous advances of a man.” The heat spread along her warm face, and her next lie nearly stuck in her throat. “Not that he made any by the way. As a matter of fact, he was a perfect gentleman the entire time.”
“So, he should be rewarded for playing nice, huh?” Laughing humorlessly, Rowell shook his head in more disbelief. Yet, a keen interest filled him. “What puzzles me is why you’re so adamant that he’s not one of our guys. Again, convince me why he should be eliminated from the list.”
“Everyone else---from Vitali to Velasquez---we have solid proof and hard evidence.” To prove her point, she flipped through the manila folder and extracted papers. Then, she shook them at him. “But, when it comes to Titan, it’s just flimsy assumptions that we’re piecing together and hoping to stick. I’m telling you, Rowell, there are too many loopholes where he’s concerned.”
“We don’t have what we need yet, and that’s why you’re assigned to do the impossible. Find the exact shit that Titan’s hiding and we can hurl him into the barrel with the rest of the trash.”
She straightened in the chair. “Our initial idea---the one where I pit father against son---is officially dead. I’m not going to become the dangling piece of meat between the two of them. It’s bad enough that I’ve bared my ass to a club room full of drunken slobs. Guess that I should at least be thankful that’s over with.” Then, she shuddered in repulsion. “Even more, I can’t stand the idea of Vitali putting his hands on me again. Not in that way. I wouldn’t survive it this time.”
“Totally, I understand your misgivings,” Rowell said sympathetically. “Perhaps the idea was a crude one to begin with. But, in our line of work, we often have to swim within a sea of nastiness to get the job done.” His look was long and thoughtful. “As for golden boy, it’s obvious that you’ve reached your conclusions for a reason. Again, I’d like to hear them.”
“Character,” she stressed again. “It’s the strongest piece of evidence to prove the type of person someone is. Br---Titan is…” She paused amidst her near stumble-up. “Believe it or not, he’s kind, caring, and gentle.”
“Now, you’re really playing for laughs.”
“No,” she said adamantly. “I’m being serious. I’ve seen him…with his mother.”
“Are the rumors true? Is she a grotesque raving lunatic in need of the asylum?”
She stared across the table at him.
The anger fired through her.
How could Rowell be so insensitive?
Suddenly, she was overprotective of Lola.
“You know what? An unavoidable task in our line of job is discovering humanity.” She paused for a moment and struggled to explain her viewpoint. “Lola has figuratively and literally experienced hell because of that man.” Instantly, her mind flashed to their initial encounter, and in a daze, she kept talking. “True, I’m clueless as to what transpired between Lola and Vitali at the end. However, it’s apparent that it was a horrible and painful ordeal. It’s the way that she reacts and responds to things. She constantly lives in fear.” Against her will, the tears stung her eyes. “Damn it, Rowell, she’s more of a victim than anyone. After all these years, she’s still trapped in misery.”
“Well, well, well.” Straightening in the chair, Rowell gave a slow hand clap, and a smile stretched along his pale face. “You’re alive after all.”
“What?” she asked surprised. “Why do you say that?”
“Months ago, you were a shadow of your former self.” A look of pity crossed his face. “It pains me to say this, but you were emotionally dead. You were not the agent that I remembered, one who threw herself into things with a fiery gusto. If there were anyone in this agency that really gave a damn, it was you. You always fought to protect the i
nnocent. It’s no different with this Lola woman now.” His smile returned. “Congratulations, Agent Spencer. You have your heartbeat back.”
“Finally, after all this time, I have.” She blinked at the tears. “Maybe I have a hiccup now and then, but I’m feeling alive again.”
“Good,” Rowell said, pinching his nose, having been misty-eyed himself. Like her, he regarded them as close friends, and he was a father figure to her more than anything. “Now, maybe we can both stop being so sloppy and get back to basics. You know what? We’ve started this conversation about the great mighty Titan too many damn times. Is it fucking Groundhog Day or something? How about we hop off the merry-go-round and you tell me what you’ve learned about the guy.”
“Illegitimate business information---it’s dead and void in that area. I had access to his computer and found nothing incriminating.” Which was the truth---against her guilty conscience, she’d finally had the guts to utilize his computer one day. He’d been more than trusting and left her alone. She’d quickly taken a peek at his drive, and to her relief, there’d only been legitimate files. “I know that you find it hard to believe, but there’s nothing there.” She looked at him eye-level again. “Seems to me that he’s just another guy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He frowned. “But, go on.”
“We became…” she hesitated briefly. “…friends.”
“So, there was progress. Your relationship with him---that’s the key to the kingdom.”
“No.” Her defiance reared its head again. “Whatever relationship that I built with Titan is over. I find it pointless to even continue consider using it. He’s no longer needed for us to build a case.” Wasn’t her heart bleeding enough, her conscience screamed? Although, on the outside, she appeared unfazed, she was a complete emotional mess on the inside. “Besides that, Vitali is the big game that we’re after, and finally, I’m on the inside enough to nab him.” She gave a satisfied look. “Talk about inroads---I’ve really made them with Vitali. He’s really begun to trust me.”
“That’s some serious headway.”
“Oh, it’s more than serious,” she mumbled amidst the triumphant feeling. “He’s going to let me work with someone---to get my ‘feet wet’ he claims.”
The excited energy bounded from Rowell again, and it seemed that he’d leap from the rickety chair at any given moment. “Are you playing me for shits or are you being real?”
“I’m being real,” she said proudly. “It’s an entry level appointment where I see some workings. I’m to be a protégé of sort.” She sighed. “It’s a start at least.”
“Exactly whom will you work with?”
“He’s being rather secretive about that, unfortunately.” She scowled. “More than anything, though, he has to convince this person to let me work with them. I’m not worried. If there’s anything that Vitali has mastered, it’s the art of persuasion.”
“You know what this means, don’t you? There’ll be more opportunity for you to see business ledgers, attend meetings…” His stare was thoughtful again. “Too, it poses a risk for higher danger.”
“Danger that I’m clearly not afraid of,” she retorted and lifted the tote bag from the floor. She fished the tiny slip of paper from it and passed it across the table to him. “But, I do have names on another front.”
“Lucinda Ricci,” Rowell read out loud and frowned. “The mafia princess of the north---of course, she’s interested in Vitali’s turf.” His eyes flicked to hers briefly. “She clipped Vitali in a major deal several months back. Not only that, but she was able to railroad both her husband and father. Now, she’s the lioness of the Ricci kingdom.” Sniffing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn these sinuses. They’re killing me.”
She passed a tissue to him. “This is all I have, so don’t snot it all up.”
“Don’t know if that’s possible.” Rowell blew his nose noisily and snorted two times. Watery-eyed from his nasal exertion action, he looked at her again. “Now, let’s get back to the boogers besides my own. What have you heard about Ricci?”
“She’s trying to extend business here to the south. Rumor has it that she’s already established territory in some parts of Alabama, and eventually, she’s hoping to spread it to Atlanta. You can only imagine how antsy Vitali is about this.”
“The bastard’s probably shitting in his pants outright,” Rowell laughed unapologetically and then sobered. “Ricci’s a hand full. With her in the mix, there’ll only be more bloodshed and violence.”
“And like the rest, she’ll rot in prison for the rest of her days.”
“Spencer, I want you to be careful. We’re dealing with the big kahunas, and they will do more than bite.”
“I’ll bite right back.”
“As for Velasquez,” Rowell said quickly, and finally mentioned the other name on the paper. “The son-of-a-bitch has been missing for weeks now.”
“Velasquez is dead. Want to know how I know? For some crazy reason or another, Vitali allowed me to sit in on a conversation between him and one of the Wolf Pack, a Santiago, I believe. He made no bones as to how he died.” The nasty bile rose in her throat. “He bragged about slitting Velasquez’s throat, smothering him to death, and then burying his nude body within his own drug shipment---fresh stacks of pure cocaine.”
“So, somewhere, there’s a dead body encased in white powder?”
“Yes.” She gave a brisk nod. “Odd thing is though, the shipment was stolen and no one has a clue as to where it is.”
“Ah, so, there’s a mystery player,” he frowned in thought. “It has to be someone on the inside. That’s the only way they could be in the know.” He shrugged. “We can’t stop everything I don’t suppose.”
“As bad as that notion is, it’s true. But, let’s look on the bright side. We know exactly who murdered Velasquez.”
“Pre-meditated murder---it’s just enough to put Vitali away for good.” The pleased light in his eyes dimmed. “Without a dead body, we can’t prove it.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. But, still, we have to find some way to connect him to it.” She glanced at her watch and sprang up. “I have to go. I can’t miss my 1:00 curfew. If I’m not back by then, Vitali will surely search for me.”
Rowell stood. “Again, Spencer, be careful.”
“Don’t worry, Rowell.” She adjusted the straps before pulling the tote along her shoulder. Then, she offered a smile. “Careful is my middle name.”
Chapter 13
The following evening, at precisely 7:50 pm, he arrived at the Vitali compound.
Ten minutes too early, he noted, glancing at his watch.
But, punctuality was always his game.
Upon initial arrival, the compound was restrictive rather than welcoming.
Beyond it, however, the estate offered explicit beauty.
Brows furrowed in thought, he slowed before stopping on the drive.
Staring straight ahead, he waited for check-in.
The imposing black wrought iron gate stood past fifteen feet and each single railing was spiked with piercing arrows at the very top. Not only that, it was electrical and sizzled with extremely high voltage. To no surprise, security cameras were mounted and angled at various positions.
On the right, really close to the entry point, a guard house was positioned and occupied by not one, but three heavily armed guards. One waited on the inside while the other two posted positions on each side of the small house. They were dressed in black tactical gear and black combat boots. Semi-automatic assault weapons hang along their shoulders by the straps. At this evening hour, they wore night vision goggles and black tactical head wear. Their features were expressionless simply because they operated as cold and unfeeling creatures.
But, something was definitely up, he decided, watching as two of the guards approached the Bugatti and stepped into the path of its beaming headlights. A clear indication of it was the extra armed men.
Stiff, robotic lik
e, the guards took opposite positions by the car---one on the driver’s side while the other on the passenger’s. The security lights kicked on and illuminated the inside of the vehicle.
“What the----” he cursed violently, throwing an arm up, and shielded his eyes from the blinding white light. When the armed guard tapped the driver’s side window, he turned and snapped at him through the glass. “Turn that damn thing off!”
“It’s Jameson,” the guard acknowledged, speaking to the other guard across the way, and stepped back promptly. Raising his shoulder slightly, the armed guard spoke into the mouthpiece, and his gaze went to the booth. He gave the inside guard a subtle nod. “Pops is expecting him. He’s clear to go in.”
The wide gate swung open just as the security lights shut off.
Fuming, cursing, he shifted into drive and sped away.
Light illuminated the pathway and the estate ahead.
The bewitching sight was literally breathtaking.
As always, he admired and appreciated the estate’s beauty.
The estate stretched for nearly over 1500 acres and valued at an estimated $119.3 million. Dead center of the property, a seven story gray-stone mansion stood and was surrounded by patches of perfectly grouped Cypress trees. An exquisitely sculptured 10’ statue was the central and focal piece before the massive-sized house, and it was boxed in with a rectangular concrete structure. The statue was a gold-plated nude woman, and it struck a risqué pose. Rather than being crystalline clear, the streaming water resembled liquid gold and spouted from the woman’s private parts. The gold basin caught the falling water and amidst it, white floating lilies danced along the pooling streams.
Apart from the grand seven-story mansion, the compound accommodated many luxurious and lucrative things. Five guest houses, an exquisite botanical garden that linked to an Italian-style garden house, a Pergola structured with heavily-busted nude statues, three fully equipped stables that housed prized black stallions, a fully operable airport with a helicopter and a fleet of small private planes, an exquisite botanical garden, and surprisingly, a dangerous and spiraling race track…...
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