Her Consigliere

by Carsen Taite

“I’m sure that can be arranged. I’m one of the speechmakers, but after I’m done, I’ll show you around.”

  “I look forward to it.” And just like that, they were back to flirting, and Royal surrendered to it. She needed to make headway on this case so she could be done with it, and if flirting with a beautiful, accomplished, and complicated woman was the way to get there, she was all in. Amazingly, it came fairly easy considering it had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity. She’d been on her last case for six months, deep in the belly of the Garza organization, handling logistics for their drug running operation over the border. She’d been one of the few women working for the cartel, and the vapid women who hung around the fringe with their singular focus on drugs and partying weren’t her type. Not that she was averse to having fun. She simply liked her recreation with a little more depth for when the party died down. If she couldn’t have a meaningful conversation with a woman, she may as well satisfy her physical needs by her own hand or with a hooker and save herself from having to endure the small talk.

  “Siobhan, you came.”

  A tall, handsome man with dark, wavy hair appeared at Siobhan’s side and pulled her into a hug. Royal immediately sensed Siobhan freeze up at the approach and her own senses went on high alert.

  “Hello, Martin. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Siobhan said, her friendly tone covering for the displeasure conveyed by the way she barely offered her hand and sidestepped his embrace.

  “Dad insisted. He couldn’t be here, and he wanted to make sure the family was represented.” He looked around. “I haven’t seen Carlo, so I’m assuming you’re here for the same reason.”

  Royal watched Siobhan’s brow crease and knew that on some level the assumption everyone made that Siobhan was just another Mancuso daughter weighed heavy. She had the authority, the power, but when it came down to ride or die loyalty, would the family stand with her, no matter what? Royal filed the thought away in the box labeled “ways to turn Siobhan Collins” and directed her attention at Mr. Handsome who was practically drooling over her date. She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Royal Flynn.”

  He squeezed her hand with a firm grip. “Martin Vedda.” He glanced back and forth between them. “How do you two know each other?”

  “Business.” Both of them uttered the word at the same time. Royal caught Siobhan’s eye and grinned. Siobhan really was captivating and, bonus, she didn’t seem to realize it. What had it been like to grow up in the shadow of Dominique and Celia Mancuso? Whatever it had been, Siobhan had more than survived. According to the file she’d read, she’d been top of her class and editor of the law review, and then she’d gone into business for herself within a week of passing the bar. Sure, she’d probably had help from Carlo to be able to attend in the first place, but money only went so far. Siobhan had clearly worked her butt off at school and demonstrated a passion for a good fight. That she would be able to use those talents as part of her work was a bonus, but her expertise would count against her once she was arrested and charged for every single time she crossed the line. She’d be unable to claim she didn’t know what the Mancuso family was really up to behind the scenes of their community ties and philanthropy. Royal knew she should relish the idea of Siobhan and the rest of the Mancuso operation behind bars, but in this moment, the only image she wanted to enjoy was Siobhan in her form-fitting dress standing beside her.

  Clearly, it had been too long since she’d had a normal life. Royal tried to recall the last time she’d been on a real date. It had been way longer than the time she’d worked on the Garza case. It might have been a few years. Yep, it had been Maria, the cousin of one of the other agents in her division. She’d gone in with high hopes because Maria, unlike other women she’d dated in the past, had known from the start that she was an agent who often worked undercover, and it had started well. They’d enjoyed dinner and drinks, and conversation about likes and dislikes late into the night. A second date had delivered more of the same, but when the conversation led to deeper topics, like family and work, Royal ran into her usual problem, unable to share personal details with someone she barely knew. She couldn’t talk specific details about her work, and as for her family, she wasn’t interested in rehashing the trouble she’d managed to escape, and Ryan? She never knew what to say about her little brother. When he’d joined the military, she’d had high hopes he’d find his way, figure out how to get his life on track, but his sudden return home left her wondering if he ever would.

  “Have you given any more thought to my ideas?”

  Royal tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Martin’s question, directed at Siobhan. Siobhan’s drawn brow suggested she was annoyed at the query, or maybe she was more annoyed at the fact he’d chosen to bring up business at a gala. Whatever the case, Royal listened closely while trying to maintain an appearance of nonchalance.

  “I’m looking into it,” Siobhan said.

  “Time is of the essence.”

  “Everyone says that,” she replied. “What that usually means is that the person asking for the dispensation is impatient, which is not a good sign.”

  Martin merely smiled in response to the shade. “It’s hard to be patient about a sure thing. You’re too cautious.” He laughed and leaned closer to Siobhan, his voice dripping with a mix of familiarity and condescension. “You always were. It would do you good to let loose a little.”

  Royal wanted to growl at him for his sexist remarks. He wouldn’t talk this way to another man, but it wasn’t her place to defend Siobhan’s honor—it would only reinforce the image of her as a weak woman who didn’t know how to handle real business. She could, however, respond to his attempt to act like he and Siobhan had some special bond. She placed her hand on Siobhan’s arm. “I thought this was a gala. Shall we go find another drink and have a little fun?” she asked, keeping her voice light and flirty.

  Martin’s eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure out the layers of their relationship and expecting Siobhan to turn Royal down in favor of staying in his presence. Royal doubted there was much he wanted he couldn’t have, but Siobhan would surely make that list.

  Siobhan laced her fingers through Royal’s. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s find that drink.” She gave Martin a small wave as they walked away. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear from me. One way or another.”

  They’d barely reached the bar when a man at the front of the room tapped his finger on the microphone and called Siobhan’s name. “Looks like you’re on,” Royal said.

  Siobhan barely hid a slight grimace. “Looks like. Wait for me?”

  “Of course. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about my private tour. Go be the face of the Mancuso family, but when you’re done, I’m claiming you for the rest of the night.” She watched Siobhan’s face for her reaction to the bold statement and was pleasantly surprised when the initial reaction was a broad smile.

  “‘Claiming,’ you say? Interesting.” Siobhan released her hand slowly, like she was contemplating choosing to stay instead of giving her speech. When their grasp slipped, she leaned close to Royal’s ear. “We’ll see who will be claiming who. Just you wait.”

  She turned and walked away before Royal could react. Damn, it was getting hard to focus.

  Siobhan was almost to the stage when Royal felt her phone buzz in her pocket. It was the “official” phone she’d been issued for this case, and the only people who had the number were Wharton, Robert, and Siobhan. Of course, Robert could’ve given the number to anyone, but she pulled it out with a sense of dread to see Wharton’s private number on the screen. In all the time she’d been working undercover, he had never called her burner phone, choosing some other, less obvious way to reach out. He would only call if it was an emergency, but if she were to duck out now, it would definitely be noticed. The phone continued to buzz as the emcee urged everyone to turn their attention to Siobhan. She considered turning it off, but her instincts told her to answer. She glanced to the left a
nd spotted an alcove. She edged her way out of the throng of people, but by the time she was secluded in the semi-private space, the phone had stopped ringing. She started to push redial, but the incoming text paralyzed her. The words were simple and terrifying.

  BOMB THREAT. GET OUT NOW!

  Chapter Eleven

  Siobhan stood at the podium, staring out at all the expectant faces, wishing once again Carlo hadn’t stopped attending these events. When she was younger, he would escort her into the room, introduce her around to the socialite crowd, and ask her to wait while he made a few remarks. The crowd would politely clap in response, and then he would rejoin her for a private tour with the curator, who showed them some of the new acquisitions, as befitted a generous megadonor. On many such occasions, a docent would refer to her as Carlo’s daughter, a mistake she would quickly correct, often wondering if she hadn’t taken the step, what would Carlo have said. Last year, he’d turned the duty of making a speech over to her, but at least he’d still accompanied her for the occasion. Carlo might not be part of Dallas society’s in-crowd, but people respected him even if it was a respect laced with fear, and they’d always treated her well. But here by herself for the first time, she suspected most of these people were a bit disdainful at her lack of pedigree and the fact she was only a representative of the actual donor.

  Thank God for Royal’s presence tonight. She settled her gaze on Royal, who stood in the back of the room, casually leaning against the wall with a drink in her hand. She flashed a slow smile, as if transmitting a relaxed vibe all the way across the room. They might barely know each other, but Siobhan was infused with confidence simply by being in Royal’s strong, calm presence. She took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone. “On behalf of the entire Mancuso family, I would like to extend my thanks to the museum board and all of the volunteers who make it possible to share the works of many famous and soon to be famous artists from around the world with the citizens of Dallas.”

  She droned on a bit, or that’s how it sounded in her head, rattling off statistics about the effect of art on society and conveying praise for how this museum was bringing some of the finest acquisitions to the city. She was near the end of the remarks she’d prepared when she noticed Royal pull her phone out of her pocket and stare at the screen. Royal’s eyes widened and she flashed a quick look toward the podium before ducking out of the room. Siobhan had no idea what she said after that, consumed with curiosity about what had urgently diverted Royal’s attention in another direction.

  “The Mancuso family thanks the museum for this honor, and in conclusion, I’d like to offer my congratulations—”

  A loud siren rang through the air, drowning out the rest of the sentence. “What the hell was that?” Siobhan said, neglecting to remember she was still holding the microphone. Uniformed men burst through the back door and began fanning out into the crowd. At first Siobhan thought they were museum security, but then she recognized the familiar uniforms of the Dallas Police Department. She slid the button to turn off the mic and dropped it onto the podium.

  “Please,” one of the officers called out to the crowd. “Everyone remain calm. We need you to exit the building in an orderly fashion.”

  His words were like a referee’s starting whistle, and the throng of people who moments ago had been lounging around, tossing back drinks, eating passed canapés, and one-upping each other about the size of their donations were now a stampede of cattle, determined to break the fence and run to freedom.

  More cops poured into the room in an attempt to quell the action. The one that had been coming toward her yelled even louder, “Come on. All of you need to go.”

  She started to retort, something along the lines of they didn’t have any business ordering her around, but she barely had her mouth open to reply when she was startled by a strong arm circling her waist, and a whispered voice in her ear. “This way.”

  She let Royal lead her around the edge of the crowd, noting the irony of refusing to leave when the cops ordered her to do, but not hesitating to follow Royal to God knows where. “What’s going on?”

  “The police think there’s a bomb in the building and they’ve ordered an evacuation.”

  She held back a gasp and forced her voice to calm. “You think they could’ve just said so.”

  “I’m sure they were trying to keep the crowd under control. You saw how everyone reacted when they asked people to leave.”

  Royal’s assured confidence that had been attractive a moment ago suddenly seemed a little suspect. “And how do you know what the police think?”

  Royal blinked, the movement so subtle most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Siobhan was skilled in the art of reading nonverbal cues from witnesses and juries, and she applied her expertise here. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I heard them talking.” Royal gestured to the back of the room where she’d been standing moments ago. “I stepped outside to see what was going on and heard the word bomb. They’re not a subtle bunch. While they were huddled around, trying to figure out what to do, I asked one of the docents for the closest exit behind the podium and she gave me directions. I figure everyone else will be heading out the front doors and we can slip away in the back. It’s not like the valet is going to be sending runners into the parking garage to get cars if there’s a bomb on site.” She stopped and pointed. “Here, it’s through there.”

  Siobhan pushed on the exit door and winced as the clang of the alarm blended with the warning siren already blaring throughout the entire museum. Royal pointed to the right and they stepped out into the cool night air. Siobhan pulled out her phone. “I should try to reach the director on the phone and see if they’re planning to try to resume once the police have searched the building.”

  Royal shook her head. “Don’t count on it. They’ll spend hours checking every space in the building, and there are a lot of places someone could hide an explosive device.”

  There was something both assured and unsettling about her cool demeanor under the circumstance, and it piqued Siobhan’s curiosity. “You sound like you know a bit about bombings,” Siobhan said, lobbing the remark into the conversation to see Royal’s reaction.

  “I do. I was an explosives specialist in the Army. Two tours in Afghanistan. It feels like a lifetime ago, but some things you never forget.”

  Siobhan nodded, wondering how a former specialist in the Army had wound up selling booze for a living. No wonder Royal was up for more action. She filed the information away to be more fully examined at a later time. She reached into her purse. “I’ll call Neal. She’ll come pick us up.”

  Royal held up her phone. “I’ve got an Uber coming. They’ll be here in about three minutes.” She glanced back at the door and took Siobhan’s arm. “Look, I know you’d probably prefer the protection you’re used to, but I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you.”

  The words were delivered in a soft, silky tone, and Siobhan let herself fall under Royal’s spell, not minding at all the fact she was surrendering control. “Fine. Besides, I imagine if we hang around here much longer, the press will find us, and I’d rather not have to comment on something when I have no idea what’s happening. I’ll call Neal from the car. We have contacts at the police department who might be able to let us know what’s going on.”

  A large, midnight blue Yukon pulled into the parking lot and headed their way. Royal confirmed it was their ride and led them toward the passenger side of the SUV. Siobhan let Royal help her make the step into the vehicle and then proceeded to send a string of texts to Neal before putting away her phone in time to hear Royal tell the driver they’d be making two stops. The idea of cutting short their evening left her feeling bereft. She placed a hand on Royal’s arm and addressed the driver directly. “Strike that.” She gave her address, and before she could change her mind, she met Royal’s questioning look and said, “I want a stiff drink. Care to join me?”

  Royal studied her for a moment
and Siobhan tried not to flinch under the penetrating gaze. No one had ever made her feel so off balance, and she’d certainly never imagined she would enjoy the sensation as much as she did.

  “I would absolutely love to join you,” Royal said, finally.

  Siobhan nodded slowly, wanting to acknowledge the response, but fearing if she spoke her voice might tremble with anticipatory desire. Royal was coming home with her, and she might need more than a stiff drink to cap off the evening.

  ❖

  Royal was desperate to check her phone again, but there was no chance she could sneak a look as Siobhan was sitting less than an inch away in the back of the Uber. Besides, she’d find out whatever she needed to know from Wharton later. Her curiosity didn’t warrant arousing suspicion now, not when Siobhan seemed to have let down her guard. Within fifteen minutes of leaving the museum, they pulled up to Siobhan’s apartment building.

  “Pull up to the valet stand,” Siobhan told the driver. “They won’t mind.”

  When the car pulled to a halt, Royal jumped out on her side and walked briskly around the back of the vehicle to open Siobhan’s door. She held her arm as she stepped out, and she couldn’t help but notice Siobhan’s well-toned leg sliding past her as she stepped down onto the pavement. She spoke to keep from staring. “Are you sure you want me to come up?”

  Siobhan stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. “No, but I want you to anyway. Follow me.” Siobhan strode through the lobby to a bank of elevators. Once inside, she inserted her keycard in the slot and pushed the button for the penthouse. The elevator shot up, and Royal watched the numbers fly by as they passed all of the numbered floors.

  “You look uncomfortable. Do you not like heights?” Siobhan asked, wearing a playful grin.

  “I’m not a huge fan, but I can handle anything.”

  “Is that so?” Siobhan stepped closer. “That is a very all-encompassing statement. ‘Anything’? Really?”