by Krista Holt
I smirk. I’m sure he’d love that.
Someone kicks the door back open, and I quickly pull myself upright, smug expression firmly in place. “Do I get my phone call now, Sunshine?”
He produces a dirty looking rotary phone, and drops it on the table with a thud. “Dial away.”
I wait as he unfastens one of my wrists, locking the now empty cuff around a metal loop welded onto the tabletop. “Is that necessary? Where am I going to go?”
He ignores me and takes a few steps back. I glance at him pointedly, but he just leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.
Guess this isn’t going to be a private call. With a shrug, I punch in the number for the house and wait for my mother to pick up.
“Ma?”
“Nicola? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Ma, it’s me. Look, I need to talk to him.”
“He’s not here, Nicola. He’s not here. Nobody is here. The FBI busted in here about an hour ago and arrested everyone.”
“What?” I glance at the agent, hating the smile on his face. “He’s been arrested? They’ve all been arrested?”
“Yes, everyone.”
“What about Jelmini?” Our lawyer.
“Him too, him too. Nicola, it’s such a mess in here, they knocked the door off its hinges. Scared the life out of me. I don’t know where they took him. Your father. I don’t know where anyone is.”
Suddenly, everything makes sense. This wasn’t about me. This was a sweep. The FBI wanted everybody. Which means they have more ammunition than I assumed. There’s no way they’d bother taking us all in if they weren’t sure something was gonna stick.
“Where are you?” she asks.
“They got me, too, Ma.”
“What?” she cries. “What am I supposed to do? What should I do?”
“Nothing. Don’t do anything. Stay home. Promise me.”
“Nicola, I can’t do that. You’re all in prison, I have to do something.”
“Do nothing,” I shout, and her stunned silence reverberates through the line.
I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her that way. Ever.
“Stay out of this, please,” I say in a softer tone. “I gotta go. I don’t know when I’ll see you. Keep Gabriella outta trouble, yeah?”
“I’ll try. Be careful, son.”
I will.” I drop the phone into the receiver and resume my nettling of Agent Sunshine. “Can I get some hand sanitizer? That phone was disgusting.”
“Later, princess. Someone wants to see you. Get up.”
He walks me back through the station before opening another door. This time, a dimly lit conference room waits on the other side.
“This is Special Agent Garrett O’Neil,” he announces, gesturing to the man dressed in a navy suit and white shirt sans tie. He looks haggard and a little pissed to be working through the night. Not that I blame him. “He asked to have a little chat with you.”
Sunshine ushers me into the room, and shoves me into a chair on the other side of the table from the red-haired agent.
“Easy, damn it,” I complain. “This suit is expensive.”
Bradford ignores me, choosing to address the very special agent instead. “You want the cuffs on or off?”
“I think he’ll behave himself,” Garrett answers.
I shrug, indifferent, and make no promises as Agent Personality reaches over and undoes the handcuffs.
“Thanks, Sunshine.” I give him my best smile, which he returns with a scowl.
“I’ll be right outside, O’Neil. If you need him tased or something, let me know. I’d be happy to assist.”
“Thank you, Agent Bradford.” Garrett nods congenially. “I’ll yell if I need you.”
We both wait for the door to close. I stare at the man across from me, waiting for him to speak first. Wanting to see if he’s going to tell me what the hell is going on.
He clears his throat after a minute of our silent stand off. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.”
“I am.”
He flips open an FBI file sitting on the table, and drags a picture from it. “I found Saul Marino.”
He tosses the paper down in front of me. My eyes drop to it, and then travel back to Garrett, the man I’ve been meeting in secret for well over a year. The FBI agent I’ve been conspiring with to bring down my father.
“You didn’t tell me he was dead, Nic.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t though, either. I mean, in all fairness I just said if he knows what’s good for him, he’d be dead. Big difference.”
Tight anger flashes over his face. “Cut the act. We had a deal, and lying to me, about murder, wasn’t a part of it.”
My spine stiffens. “I told you that you couldn’t place limitations on me. I warned you that things like this might happen. And you accepted the terms, so don’t even give me crap about what I had to do.” I fling the paper back onto his side of the table and lean toward him. “Did you even see what he did to her?” My voice deepens, the cadence of it deadly and completely unapologetic.
I would do it again if I had to. I would do worse, without batting an eye if it was to avenge her.
“He was hardly innocent.”
“Maybe not. But you can’t just go about killing people because they piss you off, Nic.”
“Can’t I?”
“Not anymore, you can’t.”
“Garrett, can we skip to the part about why I was hauled out of my car and harassed by one of the Bureau’s agents in the middle of the night, huh? Because that wasn’t exactly part of our plan either.”
“Yeah, I know, but about three hours ago, the New York City DA signed a warrant for your arrest, on the charge of first degree murder.” He points to the picture of Saul’s dead body. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that not only has another agent been running an investigation into you, but as it turns out, he’s got a pretty reliable informant, too.”
“Like, who?”
“You tell me,” Garrett snaps. “Because he claims to have had a bug planted in your car, dummied your phone—not the burner, thankfully—and has been tracking your movements via the phone’s GPS. He was the one to find Marino’s body first, a couple miles off of Manhattan, and pin your whereabouts to Battery Park within an hour of the medical examiner’s time of death. So, please, by all means, act glib about this. It only almost got you arrested. You know, without the immunity deal I promised you.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say? Any of my father’s men could have gotten into my car if they really wanted to.”
“Well, how about your phone?”
I frown. “I keep it on me.”
“Obviously not.”
“Garrett, no one’s been spying on me. Maybe this agent paid someone to plant the bug. The Benz was in the shop not that long ago, after Bella Goretti took a baseball bat to it. Maybe it was someone there.”
“Maybe, or maybe there’s someone close to you that you’ve made the mistake of trusting.”
“Again, like who? I don’t trust any of them.”
I only trust Reagan. Everyone else is subject to my suspicion. Garrett included.
Leaning back, I stare at the dingy stucco ceiling. “Can’t you ask this other agent who his source is? Doesn’t your investigation take precedence over his?”
“Yes, it does. Lucky for you, my superiors are more interested in bringing your father down than sending you to rot in prison. And no, the other agent isn’t revealing his source, he’s worried about payback.”
“Who’s gonna kill his snitch, we’re all locked up in here?” I quickly look at him, unease picking at me because I hadn’t even bothered to ask for confirmation. “He’s locked up, right?”
He nods. “He is.”
I exhale slowly, pushing out all the hate, tension, and anger. All the duplicity and the stress from living a double life for so long slowly start to break apart and fall off me. It’s just the beginning, but it’s a good sta
rt.
“What happens now, Garrett?”
He flips through the file in front of him, not looking at me. “What do you think happens? You testify against your father.”
“How long until that happens?”
“The DA has agreed to fast track the trial. It’ll start next week.”
“And until then?”
“Until then, you’ll be sequestered in a shitty motel, playing cards with FBI agents and praying that your father doesn’t figure out that you’re the leak.”
“That all?” I try to laugh, but it falls flat. Because as relieved as I am to know my father is sitting behind bars, there’s still a good chance he might try to kill me once he realizes that his only son, the man he wanted to turn his kingdom over to, made a deal with the FBI to put him in prison for the rest of his miserable life.
And that betrayal, it will burn even greater if he ever figures out that I threw it all away for a pair of blue eyes and a warm smile. How I gave it all up for a woman who makes me feel invincible and grounded all at the same time. In fact, everything I’ve done since I left her in California has been about this, about getting free. It’s been about getting Reagan.
It had taken only a few weeks of seeing her to know she couldn’t tolerate the life I was called to. It’d hurt me to even think of subjecting her to the type of life my mother led. I knew I couldn’t ask that of her. But, with every day I spent with her, with every smile she flashed, with every kiss she gave, and every piece of her life she let me into, I slowly realized I couldn’t let her go, either. So, a week after I arrived back in New York, I made my first call to the FBI on a payphone. The switchboard operator had connected me to Garrett, and the rest is a very rocky history that I don’t want to think about right now.
“What happens to her?” I ask.
He looks up from the file. “Who? Reagan?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing, as far as I know. Her boss pulled the plug on their investigation. It’s been shut down over the disappearance of an Oversight Committee intern. Know anything about that?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Then who was it?”
Enzo. But I’m hoping he’s halfway to Turks and Caicos right now. “Doesn’t matter. The intern is not coming back.”
Garrett’s jaw clenches. “Good to know.”
He falls quiet and the silence chafes. So does my guilt. Reagan has once again paid the price for my actions. Her job, the thing she loves almost as much as me, has been knocked around because of something I had stupidly set in motion in order to get back into her life.
“What if I talk to that committee of hers?” I ask. “Can I testify about the dirty feds?”
His head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? You’re only safe as long as your father doesn’t know you’re the leak. The second we lose the element of surprise, he’ll put a hit on you.”
“I want to do this.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re not doing anything.”
“Damn it, Garrett.” My hand strikes the table, the boom echoing in the small room. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even blink. “I get to testify to that committee, or you find yourself another snitch.”
Calmly, he closes the file and tosses it onto the table in front of me. “You’re an asshole, you know that? I can’t believe you would pull something like this so late in the game.” He sighs long-sufferingly, and then to my surprise, a dry laugh shakes his chest. “You’re the damn whistleblower, aren’t you? I should have known…”
“It was the only way I could get close to her.”
It was something that had to happen, I had to create a reason for me to be in D.C. I needed my father to have a vested interest in keeping me there, with her, and not in the city with him. What I hadn’t accounted for was how aggressive he would be about unearthing the leak. I hadn’t planned on things spiraling out of control like they did. It was never my intention to kidnap her, hurt her or her co-worker.
But, by then, the lie had become too big, my obedience too crucial to making sure I stayed alive. I couldn’t have defied my father once he gave the order to take them both. All I could do was try to mitigate the collateral damage, try to manage the risk, and keep anyone from being killed. And while I succeeded in protecting their lives that night, I also failed. Because Reagan doesn’t look at me the same way. There’s still fear in her eyes and uncertainty lingering in their depths.
Testifying to her committee is the least I can do for her, it’s the least I can do to try to make this right. I hadn’t given much thought to how I would tell her about this, about my deal with Garrett. I haven’t rehearsed my explanation a thousand times. If anything, I believed it would all work itself out. Now, though, I don’t know if that’ll happen.
She’s going to need more this time, more proof, more assurance. Maybe this is the best way to go about it. Meet her on her own turf and try to explain everything. Even if it means increasing my risk and potentially losing my anonymity.
“She has got you so wrapped around her little finger…” A fleeting smile appears on Garrett’s face. “It’d be hilarious if what you were suggesting wasn’t suicidal.”
“Without her, you wouldn’t have a case. You can do this for her.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll talk to my bosses, but I can’t promise anything. They might prefer letting you swing in the wind.”
I shrug my shoulders, leaning back in my chair. “Then they’re gonna have to decide how bad they want to shut down the entire Selvaggio Crime Family, because this is non-negotiable. I testify in front of her committee, or all our hard work goes down the drain.”
CHAPTER 20
Reagan
MONDAY IS HEARTLESS IN ITS arrival.
I’m wide-awake, staring at the ceiling, when my alarm goes off. Rolling over, I glare at the ugly little clock before silencing it with a slap.
The rest of the weekend went by in a daze. I swung between crying, staring at the wall, ignoring Becca when she knocked on my bedroom door, and frantically dialing Nic’s number, only to listen to his nonexistent voicemail disconnect the call. I begged Simmons to let me see him, but he refused.
Thoughts of going to New York and trying to find Nic dissipated as soon as they formed. I wouldn’t know the first place to look. And even if by chance I was able to find him, Simmons swore they’d never let me speak to him. There wasn’t anything I could do. Except call his phone and practice apologies I may never get to give. I’ve never felt so useless. Guilty and useless.
The idea of going to work makes me want to hide. I can’t face anyone today. I need to be alone. After shooting Scott a quick email, telling him I won’t be coming into work today, I roll back over and hide my face in the pillow.
Until my Blackberry rings.
“What?” I answer with a groan.
“Reagan?” Cameron replies.
“Sir. I’m sorry.” I sit up quickly. “Yes, it’s Reagan, what can I do for you?”
“Scott told me you weren’t feeling well, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come in today.”
“With all due respect, I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.”
“I understand, but there’s been some developments in the investigation. The whistleblower has decided to come in.”
“What?”
“He’s agreed to testify in front of the committee in an hour. Can you get here by then?”
“Yes, of course.” Flinging back the sheets, I scramble off the bed. “You said he…?”
“It’s a man, that’s all I know.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I race to my closet and grab a pair of black cigarette pants and a white button-down. After hurrying to get everything buttoned and zipped, I yank a burgundy blazer off its hanger and rush out of the apartment.
By the time I arrive at the office, Scott and Cameron are in the hallway, waiting.
“Great, you made it.”
Cameron nods politely. “Let’s go then.”
We follow him toward a hidden internal staircase and through a heavy fire door. I throw Scott a questioning glance, wanting to know more, but he just shrugs non-committedly.
Without another word, Cameron leads us down three flights of stairs and into the Oversight Committee hearing room.
“What is going on?” I finally ask Scott while Cameron is busy greeting another ranking member. “I thought the investigation was done.”
“Me too, but I guess having the whistleblower decide to come forward mitigates the risk of continuing the investigation.”
“And this doesn’t seem too good to be true to anybody else?”
“I had that same thought.”
“Scott, Reagan.” Cameron gestures for us to follow him down the aisle lined with navy blue carpet, and past the two rows of dark wood benches where the members of the committee sit, to the Chairman’s seat. Cameron’s place.
“I know none of us were prepared for this.” He looks at me, and then Scott. “Just observe, and if you think I’m forgetting something, or if there’s a question you want answered, lean over and tell me.”
He glances at the door as it opens, admitting one more member and their staff. “I need to speak with Representative Tiller for a second. Get comfortable.”
I drop my things into a chair reserved for staff before scanning the room. The committee staff is busy setting up the table where the whistleblower will sit during his testimony. Instead of one seat though, there are two.
I squint at the two name cards, barely able to make out the small print. Mr. O’Neil, and Mr. X.
“O’Neil?” I glance over at Scott. “Agent O’Neil? The same man we met with? The one who was supposed to help us after we were kidnapped?”
“I can’t believe this.” He glares at the name cards. “He played us.”
“Why didn’t he tell us about this when we met with him about Nic?”
“He probably wasn’t obligated to, and Cameron doesn’t really have any friends within the Bureau at the moment, thanks to this investigation.”
