Her Consigliere

by Carsen Taite

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t want to bother him with this until I’m sure I’ve explored every angle.” Siobhan tapped her fingers on the armrest.

  “I’m a decent sounding board if you’re interested.” Royal reached for her hand. “Have Neal take us to your place,” she said, thinking she would have the best chance of returning the flash drive if they were there, but also wanting to spend some time alone with her. “You can call Carlo from there and I can get my car later or we can get someone to bring it.” She released Siobhan’s hand, but didn’t pull away. “Strictly business. If that’s what you want.”

  “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “You don’t need to decide right now, but it’s your call. Whenever you make up your mind.”

  Siobhan stared down at their hands and laced her fingers through Royal’s. “Okay.” She rapped on the partition until Neal lowered it a few inches. “Change of plans. We’re going to my place. Please get Pete to take Royal’s car to her house, and I’ll take her home later.”

  Neal nodded, but Royal could tell by the tight set of her jaw she had opinions about the change in plans, but thankfully, she didn’t butt in with an opposing opinion.

  Siobhan called Carlo from the car and gave him a curtailed version of their visit with Petrov, basically telling him it had been impossible to tell if Petrov was telling the truth about not being involved in the attacks on her or their business interests, but she’d delivered the threat either way. When they reached her apartment building, Neal turned into the parking garage instead of the valet stand.

  “Don’t even argue,” she said. “I’ll leave you alone, but I need to walk through the apartment and make sure it’s safe before I do. Five, ten minutes tops.”

  Royal didn’t want her there, but she appreciated the care she took to protect Siobhan and wasn’t about to argue the point. Neal entered the apartment first and was inside for a moment before reappearing at the door to let Siobhan know it was okay to enter.

  “Your room’s clear. I’ll only be a few minutes with the rest of the place.”

  Siobhan turned to Royal. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  Royal watched as she walked through the small foyer and set her bag on the same table where Royal had found it when she left the apartment the morning before. Now if she could distract Neal for a few minutes, she’d have her chance. When Siobhan disappeared into the master suite, she called out to Neal. “I’ll check in here if you want to check the kitchen and study.”

  “Okay,” she called out from the dining room.

  Royal glanced around while she fished the drive out of her jacket. Satisfied this was the best opportunity she’d have, she reached into Siobhan’s bag and felt around for the zippered pocket. Yesterday, the bag had been only partly full, but today it was stuffed, and she had to shove the contents aside before she could find the compartment she was looking for while keeping an eye out for Neal. She reached for the pull and started to ease it open when she heard footfalls getting closer. She pulled her hand out and left it hovering over the bag while she looked down the hall toward Siobhan’s room, but the door was closed and there was no sign of Siobhan. She heard the footfalls again. Shit. She knew what was happening, but she resisted the urge to whirl around.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  In one fluid move, she opened her hand and dropped the flash drive into the bag, grabbed the handle and pushed it close to the wall. She turned to Neal, careful to keep her face and tone neutral. “Just checking back here.” She pointed at the glowing lamp on the table. “Do you know if this was on when Siobhan left her place this morning?”

  Neal stared at her for a moment and looked at the bag and back to her. She stayed still, hoping she looked natural, but fearing she’d raised her suspicion.

  “It’s on a timer,” she said. “Smart plug.”

  She nodded slowly, thankful for the opening. “Are there more smart plugs in the house? Do you have them secured?”

  “Do we have what secured?” Siobhan asked as she walked out of the master suite down the hall toward where they were standing.

  Royal pointed at the outlet where the lamp was plugged in. “Neal and I were talking about how smart plugs are convenient, but they provide an entry point for hackers. They could potentially get access to your home network, install listening devices and other things.” She looked back at Neal. “How often do you do a thorough sweep?”

  “Daily. Unless she’s been home all day,” she said, looking unsettled. “We did one this morning.”

  “And she’s been gone all afternoon,” Royal pointed out. “I’ll do another sweep now, but I think you should add another anytime she’s out of the house for more than an hour.”

  “How about you two start talking to me rather than about me?” Siobhan said. “I’m hungry. How does Thai sound?”

  Royal and Neal both stared at her as if she’d asked them to perform complex math. Neal was the first to respond. “I should go. Royal can check for bugs and I’ll double-check in the morning.” She edged toward the door. “Call me if you need me.”

  When the door shut behind her, Royal breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Everything okay?” Siobhan asked.

  “Releasing pent-up stress. I guess I didn’t realize how worried I was about going to Petrov’s.”

  “You didn’t seem scared.”

  “I wasn’t. Not for me anyway. You, on the other hand, I was definitely concerned for you.”

  Siobhan reached for her hand and pulled her close. “I’m fine.”

  Royal ran a hand down her side. Siobhan had changed from her suit into a pair of black silk lounge pants, and her loose-fitting top allowed ready access to her smooth skin. “Yes, yes, you are.”

  “Why don’t you take me to bed and show me how fine you think I am.”

  Royal grinned. “I thought you were hungry. What about my Thai food?”

  Siobhan arched away from her. “If that’s what you’d rather have…” She took two steps toward the bedroom and looked back over her shoulder. “But if you’re really hungry, I’ll be in here.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Royal was standing in the warehouse behind Valentino’s when her phone buzzed with a text from Siobhan.

  If you really really still want Thai food, come over tonight.

  She smiled at the reference. They never had gotten around to ordering food last night.

  “You get a match on Grindr or something?” Robert asked. He raised his hands in the air when she flipped him off. “Doesn’t bother me that you’re queer. Everybody has their thing, but we’re never going to finish here if you keep checking your phone.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I can’t help it if I’m popular.” Royal typed a quick reply to Siobhan’s text and shoved her phone in her pocket. It had been difficult to leave Siobhan’s bed this morning, but having to show up to do inventory with Robert was added cruelty. The guy didn’t believe in the pleasure of silence, preferring instead to fill every moment with stories about how he’d worked his way up the chain of command with the Mancusos.

  “So, like I was saying,” he said, continuing his tale as if there had been no interruption, “with there being no sons, I imagine old man Mancuso will be looking for someone to carry on the family business when he’s gone.”

  Whoa. Royal kept her eyes trained on the clipboard she was using to record numbers to keep him from seeing her incredulous expression. She’d figured out Robert was full of himself within a few minutes of their first meeting, but this was next level. “And you think you’re that guy?” she asked, careful to keep her voice casual.

  “I’m as good as anyone. It’s not like I think he’s going to just hand it over to someone, but Dominique is single. Don’t you know whoever she marries is going to be first in line.”

  He was either completely clueless or diabolical. “What about Tony, Celia’s husband? He’s first in. Don’t you t
hink he has a better shot at being in charge?”

  Robert laughed. “Tony’s a pussy. He wasn’t ‘allowed’ to have a stripper at his bachelor party—that’s how whipped he is. You think he’s going to be in charge of anything?”

  “Hey, I don’t know all these people like you.”

  “You know some better than others.”

  Royal’s senses went on alert. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Word is you’re getting some from that hot piece lawyer. What’s she like? I hear those icy ones are real pillow princesses.”

  Royal barely heard his last few words and he was barely able to say them. She grabbed his shirt in both hands and slammed him up against one of the tall racks of booze. The bottles shook and teetered, but she didn’t give a shit if they all fell down and crashed glass around them. He grabbed her hands, but she tightened her grip, cutting off his air supply until he started beating her arms with his fists.

  “Let me go,” he choked out.

  She released her grip, and he sagged against the rack, knocking over a few bottles of Frangelico. The large broken pieces of glass rolled away, leaving only the cloying odor of the liqueur and the crunch of glass as he stepped through it trying to get away from her.

  “What the hell was that about?” he yelled.

  “Does Don Carlo know how you talk about his consigliere?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “What? You going to go rat me out?”

  “I might.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I have ambitions of my own. If Don Carlo finds out you’re an overly ambitious piece of shit, he may decide I’m a better choice to move up the ranks.”

  “You’ll never be made. You don’t have what it takes.”

  “Because I’m not Italian? Because I’m not a man?” She smiled. “But see here—I have something you don’t. Respect for the things and people that are important to Carlo Mancuso. All you have is naked ambition. We’ll see which one of us he’s more likely to favor.”

  “Right. The day I marry Dominique, you can forget about any ambition you have. You’ll be out.”

  Her phone buzzed again, and she decided answering it right there in front of him was the perfect way to show her defiance. She checked the screen. It was another text, but this time it wasn’t from Siobhan. She scanned it and shoved her phone back in her pocket. “I have to go.”

  “We’re not done here.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I have other responsibilities.”

  He yelled at her, cursing, as she walked away. She’d probably overplayed her hand, leading him to believe Siobhan or Carlo had summoned her when it would be easy for him to find out that wasn’t the case. The text had been code from Wharton, demanding immediate contact and complete discretion. She wouldn’t call him from this phone, but she needed to find a place to make the call out of the earshot of anyone connected to the Mancusos because Wharton only ever used this code when something serious was up. Her mind went immediately to the contents of the flash drive. Had he found something important there?

  She drove home and walked to a laundromat down the street. She’d scoped it out when she’d first moved in and learned it was one of only a handful of places in the city that still had a pay phone. Wharton answered on the fifth ring, right as she’d been about to hang up.

  “What took you so long to answer?” she asked. “I’d expect you to be waiting by the phone after that text.”

  “We have a lot going on here.”

  His words were clipped, and she got the distinct impression he was annoyed. Well, fuck that. He’d been the one to contact her. “Tell me about it. What’s up?”

  “I’m pulling you in.”

  Royal heard him clearly, but his words didn’t make sense. “Say again?”

  “You’re off the case. Come in today. We’ll do a quick debrief and then you can take that vacation you’re always threatening.”

  “Wait.” She leaned her head against the phone as she tried to process what was going on. Was this because she’d slept with Siobhan? No, he’d practically asked her to do that when he begged her to take this case. Was her cover blown? No, if that were true, he’d tell her that so she’d know exactly how to extricate. Her stomach roiled. If it wasn’t one of those things… “Tell me why.”

  “The flash drive gave us everything we need. The director doesn’t want to risk an agent when we don’t need to and I’ve been ordered to bring you in. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m close to a break. I’ve developed trust with these people. I can’t just leave now,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

  “Don’t fight me on this. Hell, you didn’t even want this case,” he replied, his voice weary with frustration.

  “It’s not that simple. Give me a week.” She waited for a response, but when a dial tone was the only reply, she realized he’d hung up the phone, and she slammed the handset against the base in frustration. What the hell had been on that drive and how could it be conclusive enough to justify yanking her out of an undercover assignment? One you didn’t want in the first place.

  It was true and she hadn’t needed him to remind her. She had resisted taking this gig, but like every other one before it, she’d quickly settled into her new identity and become consumed with solving the puzzle, and this one was particularly intriguing because Siobhan played a part. That Wharton would yank her back to real life before she’d even had a chance to put together the full picture was unprecedented.

  She walked the short distance back to her house—make that Royal Flynn’s house—and sat down in the living room to consider her options, which were few. She could walk out of the house with nothing except the clothes on her back, find a ride back to her apartment across town, and resume her regularly scheduled life, or she could defy Wharton’s orders and keep working undercover. What would the bureau do if she chose the latter? Would they burn her or leave her in place to bolster their investigation? She was a big fan of asking for forgiveness rather than permission, but she usually did so from a place of power. If she chose to stay in the role she’d assumed, she risked being left without a safety net, and if the FBI chose to burn her, she might be risking her life by continuing to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

  She needed time to figure out what to do, and she needed to start by reviewing all of her notes. She walked into her bedroom closet and yanked the rope for the pull-down ladder to the attic. The metal box was exactly where she’d left it when she’d replaced it on Saturday, after stowing the burner phone she’d used to make a copy of the flash drive. She grabbed her notes, stared at the phone for a moment and then grabbed it too. She placed the notes and the phone into her pocket and climbed back down. Before she settled in to review her notes, she pulled her gun out of her nightstand drawer and checked the clip. Wharton hadn’t said she was in direct danger, but foreboding stirred in her gut and she needed to plan for every contingency.

  She’d no sooner sat down to read her notes than her phone rang. Half expecting it to be Wharton asking why she wasn’t home yet, she checked the screen and saw Siobhan’s number displayed. She was torn. If she didn’t answer and Siobhan wanted her for a job, she’d wonder where she was. If Siobhan wanted her for something more intimate, she might be more forgiving about the lack of response. Either way, she wasn’t sure what to say if she did answer. “Hey, can you hang on a few minutes while I try to figure out why I’m no longer supposed to be spying on you?”

  Feeling like a coward, she let the call go to voice mail and returned her attention to the notes spread out in front of her, but as many times as she read them, she kept coming back to the flash drive. Finally, she scooped up the whole lot of info, her gun, her wallet. She put on a ball cap and sunglasses and took off on foot.

  The nearest bus stop was a block away. She waited with a few other stragglers until the big yellow and white DART bus approached, and she let everyone else
in front of her so she could be last to board. She asked the driver a few questions about the route and settled into a seat near the front, careful to keep her head tucked low and her face out of sight. A few miles later, she got off the bus at the train station and selected her route again, taking several lines around the city before abandoning the train for a short walk back to her apartment building.

  She stared at the small complex from a distance, wondering if anyone was watching, and finally deciding if they were, she had nothing to lose. She’d been ordered to come home, and here she was. If any of Mancuso’s people had followed her, they were more skilled than she gave them credit for, but she’d deal with it on the fly if necessary.

  She knocked on the door, praying Ryan was inside since she didn’t have her keys. A moment later he answered the door, with his hair wet, wearing only a towel, staring at her like she was a ghost. She walked in and placed a finger over her mouth to signal he shouldn’t say anything. She figured she was being overly paranoid, but better to play it safe. She motioned for him to get dressed and pointed to the back porch.

  While she waited for him to change, she went to the fridge and grabbed two beers. The fridge was full of food, which gave her some sense of comfort since it implied Ryan was feeling at home. She twisted the tops off the beers and walked outside, surprised to see new chairs and a grill in the tiny space. She’d had this apartment for years but had never bothered with more furnishings than a couch, a bed, and a dresser in the entire place. She settled into one of the chairs and took a long pull from her beer. She could get used to this. Her mind wandered to the sunny skies and sandy beaches featured on the website of the resort in Fiji she’d checked out before she’d been roped into taking the Mancuso gig. All she had to do was accept what Wharton was offering—a quick debrief and she could be on her way to a few weeks of nothing but ocean views, unlimited food and drink, and hot women in bikinis sprinkled throughout the landscape. It sounded like paradise until her mind wandered to the memory of Siobhan sans any clothes at all, bringing her coffee in bed yesterday morning. Why would she travel halfway around the world when she could have every creature comfort right here at home?