by Carsen Taite
“You may have what?” Siobhan asked, growing impatient with this exercise.
“Wait, you said the flash drive was in your bag?” She pointed to the table where her gun lay next to Siobhan’s bag. “Was your bag where it is now?”
“Neal, I’m not playing around. I’ve made a call and if you don’t come clean with me, someone else is going to get you to talk and it won’t be over a nice glass of whiskey.” She hoped her poker face was still working.
“It was Royal.”
Hearing Royal’s name when she’d been wishing she was here jarred Siobhan and she had to scramble to stay calm. “What are you talking about?”
“Sunday, after the meeting with Petrov. She came home with you. You were in your room and she was helping me check the rest of the apartment out. I found her with her hand in your bag. What other reason would she have for going through your bag unless she was taking the drive or putting it back? I practically caught her in the act and she made up some bullshit about how she was checking the plug for the lamp.”
She took a breath and started to say more, but Siobhan cut her off. “Be quiet.” Neal was talking too fast for her to process and she wasn’t making sense.
Or was she? She’d brought the drive home on Friday. Royal had stayed over. They’d made love—make that had sex—until late into the night. She closed her eyes and pictured Royal sitting on the side of her bed pulling on her clothes. She hadn’t walked her to the door. Instead she’d rolled over and pretended to go back to sleep, not wanting to admit or display her disappointment Royal wasn’t staying the night. Royal could’ve taken the drive on her way out and returned it on Sunday. Okay, so the opportunity was there, but could Royal really be that duplicitous without her having a clue?
She had the drive back now and Royal was MIA. Was that a coincidence or a sign she’d been naive to trust her in the first place? Had she been too quick to bring Royal into the family without the kind of vetting a stranger would normally get?
She saved your life.
It was true. Royal had saved her. The day the SUV tried to mow her down, but even more than that, she’d saved her from a loneliness she’d felt her entire life, even before she’d become an orphan and the pseudo stepsister to the Mancuso sisters. Royal had given her hope that she could find happiness. Had it all been an illusion?
Her phone buzzed and she opened her eyes. Neal was still sitting across from her, her eyes laced with concern. She’d had ample opportunity during her little foray into self-pity to grab her gun and leave, but she hadn’t. While she processed exactly what that meant, she picked up her phone and stared at the alert telling her she had an incoming text from an unknown number. Strangely compelled, she opened the text and stared at the message.
It’s R. I’m on my way up. I have something important to tell you. Please wait for me.
Chapter Eighteen
“Since when did you start driving like a little old lady?” Royal said, pointing at the speedometer. “The speed limit through here is fifty.”
Ryan accelerated through the next intersection. “I thought the goal was to get you there alive. Besides, do you really want to risk getting pulled over right now? I’ll get us there. Try and relax.”
Royal took a deep breath. Technically, she was on the run, having disobeyed a direct order from Wharton. She hadn’t reported in, she’d ignored his calls, and she’d moved to a hotel under an assumed name while she figured out her next step. Ryan was right. Getting pulled over would create even more problems, but his advice didn’t do much to quell the rising anxiety she had about getting to Siobhan as quickly as possible. She and Ryan had spent the past twenty-four hours sorting out what was real and what wasn’t when it came to the Mancuso family empire, a deep dive that had taken them into the FBI’s internal servers, well beyond what she was cleared to see. After everything she’d seen she was convinced Siobhan was in trouble and the threat was closer than any of them had realized.
Ryan had managed to hack into the contents of the flash drive she’d saved to her burner phone. It was full of information about the structure of the Mancuso operation that would be useful to law enforcement, but it was what he didn’t find that had triggered them to go further. She’d almost become lost in the process and had nearly missed Siobhan’s last text. But it had come in moments after she and Ryan had discovered pivotal information, and she’d typed a quick reply and hoped she wasn’t too late. She closed her eyes and replayed the last twenty-four hours.
“There’s more here, but the files are corrupted. It could’ve happened during the transfer.”
Royal cursed the fact she no longer had the drive. She couldn’t articulate why it was imperative that she see what was on it, but she knew it was.
“What do you want to do?” Ryan asked, his fingers poised over the laptop she’d purchased.
“If the file is corrupted on the phone, does that mean it’s corrupted everywhere?” she asked.
“Not necessarily.” He cracked his knuckles and pointed at the screen. “But there’s no way to know for sure unless we look at the other copy. I think I can do it, if that’s what you want.”
She choked back a laugh. What she wanted was to have never agreed to this assignment in the first place. If she’d simply said no, she’d be on a beach somewhere and some other agent would be tasked with figuring out what to do about the Mancuso family. If she’d said no, she wouldn’t be conflicted about how her feelings for Siobhan were interfering with her duty. Or would she? She liked to think she’d have issues with the way she’d been yanked off this case whether or not she cared how Siobhan might be affected. After all, she’d taken Siobhan’s flash drive even while she was falling for her.
She replayed the thought in her head, recognizing her feelings for Siobhan were the ultimate issue. She’d worked deep undercover numerous times throughout her career, but never once had she been swept away by an attraction that was supposed to be pretend. She’d never had to pretend with Siobhan, not about how she felt anyway. From the moment she’d met Siobhan on the street downtown, she’d been intrigued, and she wasn’t sure she would have agreed to this assignment if Siobhan hadn’t been part of the allure. She’d compromised her principles in exchange for feeling alive and desired, and if she told Ryan to keep going—to hack into the FBI servers—she would go from taking a few steps down the path of her curiosity to running full out into a fire that might kill her career.
But what was her career worth if she couldn’t trust the integrity of those who commanded her, and right now she was certain something wasn’t right. She’d been ripped from the Garza case and now she’d been ripped from this one. Wharton had called her repeatedly in the past day, but she’d chosen to ignore him since he would only tell her to get her ass into HQ for the debrief, but she wasn’t ready to share what she knew when he wasn’t willing to share back. Wharton would find her eventually, but she had the resources and skill to be able to evade him until she got some answers, starting with what else was on that drive.
“Do it,” she said. Ryan started typing right away. She hated involving him, but she didn’t know who else she could trust. For the next hour, she paced while he typed.
“I’m in,” he called out, clasping his hands above his head in victory.
Royal stopped pacing and practically dove across the room to join him in front of the laptop. “Show me.”
He pointed at the screen. “Here is the rest of the contents of the flash drive. Mostly spreadsheets, showing cash flow between the various Mancuso businesses.” He pointed at a line of code. “The spreadsheet was generated by someone named D. Mancuso.”
“That would be Dominique. Carlo’s oldest daughter. She keeps the books.”
“Okay, well, apparently she’s a creative accountant, because look here.” He pointed at a split screen. “I ran a search for her name on the server and turned up this chart. See, the chart has different numbers than the spreadsheet from the drive, and those,” he pointed to a row of
seemingly random numbers, “those are offshore account numbers. It looks like there have been large transfers to other organizations and accounts, not on the list of Mancuso holdings.”
“Can you tell who made the transfers?”
“I’m not a magician.” He grinned. “But I can read.” He entered a few more keystrokes, and a 302, the standard FBI form for memorializing investigative notes, filled the screen. “Looks like the forensic team at FBI HQ already ran down the lead.”
Royal skimmed the document. The overseas accounts had been traced back to Dominique Mancuso. She stopped reading. “That doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know. It’s not unusual for organized crime families to have some of the holdings in offshore accounts.”
“Could she be skimming from the family till?” He put both charts up on the screen. “The numbers from the spreadsheet that came from the flash drive list total holdings for the various businesses, but the totals on the chart from the FBI server don’t match. Maybe Dominique was engaged in creative accounting.”
“I guess so, but I’m not sure I can figure it out from what we have here.” Her mind started churning, but every path for a possible solution led back to Siobhan. Should she take this information to her? She’d be breaking every rule in the book if she did, but she had a gut feeling there was some connection between what her boss wasn’t telling her, what Ryan had found, and the threat against the Mancuso family in general and Siobhan in particular. “Are there any other 302s that mention any of the Mancusos or…” She thought for a second and then decided to give her hunch a stab. “Or Mikhail Petrov?”
“Got it.” His fingers flew over the keyboard. “We shouldn’t stay in much longer or we might get caught.”
“Will they be able to trace us here?”
“Not right away. I’m piggybacking over a different IP address, but it’s not a permanent solution.”
She stared at the various screens flying by, unable to keep up. “You’re really good at this.”
He grinned again. “It’s a calling. Or, as Dad said when I was arrested, a curse. The Army didn’t seem to mind using me to do their bidding.”
“You don’t have to do this for me,” she said, catching the bitterness behind his words. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”
“You’re the only person who’s ever looked out for me,” he said. “I’d do anything for you.”
She threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “Right back at you.”
“Hey, I think I found something.”
She stared at the screen and drank in the words, certain she now had a handle on who was behind the threat against the Mancuso family. “Can you screenshot that? All of it.”
She stood and reached for her gun and her jacket, but hesitated about her badge, ultimately deciding it might help to have it. Besides, she was done pretending. “I have to go take care of something.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. If I don’t come back, send this information to that investigative reporter for the Dallas Morning News. Ellis Pearson.”
He closed the laptop. “I’ll do you one better. I’m coming with you.”
“This is her building.” Royal pointed. “Up here on the right. Drop me at the curb and grab a space on the street because the only other options are a gated parking garage or the valet.”
“I’ll park on the street, but I’m coming with you.”
She considered taking him up on it but decided this was something she had to do alone. “I may need to get away fast and it’ll be better if you’re here and ready to go.”
“Okay, but tell me one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Why are you doing this? The FBI is your life. No judgment here, but whatever you’re up to, you could be throwing it all away.”
She stood at the car window and considered his question. It was a fair ask and she could think of a bunch of complicated, convoluted answers as to why she felt compelled to keep working a case after she’d been ordered to stop—duty, justice, a desire to get to the truth—but none of those things explained why she would be willing to ditch her career. What really hung in the balance was her loyalty and who deserved it more—the agency who’d been jerking her around or the woman who’d awoken feelings she thought she’d never have. What they’d found in the belly of the FBI server confirmed her suspicions that, without her knowledge, the agency had been using her for more than she’d signed on to do, and her decision about what to do with that realization all boiled down to one thing. “I guess I realized I need a life beyond the bureau, and the only person who’s going to make that happen is me.”
He held up his hand in salute. “Go. Do what you need to do and I’ll be right here waiting.”
The elevator ride took forever, but it gave her time to gather her thoughts. She had no idea what she was walking into, but after being radio silent with Siobhan for the last twenty-four hours, she expected her to be pissed. Had she summoned her here out of affection or anger? Royal didn’t care as long as she was okay. Now, she just had to get Siobhan to listen to what she had to say.
When the elevator finally stopped on the penthouse floor, she lunged out the doors and rapped her knuckles on Siobhan’s door. “It’s me, Royal.” She didn’t have to wait long before the door swung open, but instead of Siobhan, Neal was standing in the doorway with a gun in her hand.
“What’s the matter?” Royal asked, stepping into Neal’s space. “Is Siobhan okay?”
Neal reached for her shoulder and pushed her back. “Hold up. Are you carrying?”
“Yes, and you better answer my question right now or you’re going to see it up close.”
“You talk tough for someone who doesn’t have the advantage here.” Neal pointed her gun at her chest. “She’s inside and she’s fine. Put your weapon on the floor, nice and easy, then I might let you see her.”
She didn’t have a choice if she wanted to get by her unless she wanted to risk a shootout, which would only bring the cops, which would only invite questions. Taking some comfort from Neal’s promise that Siobhan was okay, she eased her gun out of her holster and set it carefully on the ground. “She asked me to come over. Are you going to take me to her or what?”
Neal motioned for her to walk ahead of her into the apartment and shut the door behind them. Siobhan was sitting on the couch in the living room, but she was staring at something in her hand and didn’t look up as they approached. Neal shoved her into a chair and stood, looming behind her in true bodyguard fashion. Royal sat in the ominous quiet for what felt like forever until she was no longer able to handle the silence.
“Siobhan, you asked me to come and I’m here.”
Siobhan slowly raised her head and Royal could see the hurt in her eyes, and she knew she was partly responsible for the pain, and on track to deliver more.
“Did you take this from me?”
Royal stared at the flash drive in Siobhan’s hand. There was no point lying now. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Here it was. Whatever she said next would define their relationship forever. A lie and she’d never be able to come clean, but she might never recover from telling the truth since it would cast doubt on everything that had gone before. There was only one clear choice, and she’d have to accept whatever consequences followed.
“My real name is Royal Scott and I’m a special agent for the FBI.”
Chapter Nineteen
Siobhan wanted to ask Royal to repeat what she’d said but feared it might be even worse to hear it for a second time. She glanced at Neal, who was still standing behind Royal, her gun at the ready. One word from her and the threat against her family would be eliminated, and if Royal were anyone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated.
But she’d trusted this woman, invited her into her life and made love to her. She’d allowed herself to imagine a relationship, a family of her own.
Pipe dreams. More proof such longings were the stuff of fant
asy, and she felt silly now for having entertained the notion she wasn’t better off on her own.
“You’re an undercover agent?” she asked.
“Yes. I was assigned to infiltrate the organization and learn everything I could about your current business practices and gather intel on any new operations going down.”
Royal stared straight at her as she spoke, and the sustained contact was disconcerting. How many times had she stared into those eyes, wondering what Royal was thinking about her. Now she had her answer. Royal had been thinking about her as a target, her only goal to figure out a way to take them all down. She held up the flash drive. “Did you manage to see what was on here?”
“Yes. The bureau has everything that’s on there.”
More disconcerting than Royal’s stare was the frank honesty of her admissions. “And you figured you’d come to tell me this because you’re a stand-up person who doesn’t like to keep secrets?”
Royal’s jaw clenched and she glanced back at Neal.
“You can speak freely in front of her. I trust her.”
Royal flinched slightly at the emphasis. Siobhan thought it would make her feel better to see Royal in pain, but it only made her sad. “Tell me why you came.”
“I came to warn you. Dominique is up to something with the family business.”
“That’s it? You come here, announce you work for the FBI, and tell me Dominique Mancuso is up to something with her own damn business?”
“She’s running a side business with Petrov. They are both playing Carlo, trying to squeeze him out, and I can prove it.”
Dread curled around Siobhan’s spine. What Royal was saying sounded crazy. It was the kind of thing federal agents said to coax admissions and confessions, but this type of strategy was usually employed in interrogation rooms when the target was vulnerable. They were in her house, her safe space, and Royal, gun to her back, was the one who was vulnerable. She could be lying to try to get out of a difficult situation, but then again, she hadn’t had to come here in the first place. “Say it again.”
