by Zoey Parker
“Better than nothing, right,” Don agreed. “Good thing the Bureau got around to scanning all these old reports and handwritten case notes last year, or else I'd be up to my elbows in file boxes an' dust bunnies. Even so, this is gonna be like lookin' for a damn needle in a...”
Don's voice suddenly cut off, just as his keyboard fell silent.
“Don't tell me you found something already,” Carla asked hopefully.
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Turns out ol' Mario didn't have a lot of friends or family named Salvatore, an' the note that one of the original agents clipped to this old file is, wow...kind of a doozy.”
“Don't keep me in suspense,” she urged. “Who was it?”
Don took a deep breath. “Well, according to this, when Mario first got married to his wife Allegra a little over thirty years ago, she wasn't able to get pregnant. Since Mario's old school an' havin' kids is a sign of virility to those folks, he kept it as quiet as possible while they tried to find the right fertility treatments for Allegra. 'Cept in the meantime, Mario goes an' gets some mistress of his pregnant.”
“Jesus,” Carla said. “And since Mario's Catholic...”
“Yep, no trip to the clinic for her,” said Don. “Mario hushes it up, gives her a boatload of money, an' sends her off to raise the kid somewhere far away. He figures that's the end of that, an' after a bunch more years, he an' Allegra find the right doctor an' manage to have a kid of their own.”
“Gio,” she said.
“Give the little lady a cigar,” Don agreed. “But then about four years later, some punk teenager named Salvatore shows up in Chicago an' starts braggin' about how Mario's his father, an' how he's gonna join the Mancinis an' take over for Mario someday 'cause it's his birthright. Looks like Mario tried real hard to quiet the kid down an' make him understand that he wasn't never gonna acknowledge him publicly, what with him bein' illegitimate an' all. But Sal wouldn't listen, an' he even showed up at the house on one occasion...”
“...so Allegra found out,” Carla finished. “Holy shit.”
“The agents who were on the case back then figured it might be worthwhile to keep an eye on Sal, just in case they could find a way to use him against Mario. 'Cept one day, accordin' to the files, Sal just up an' disappeared.”
“Mario killed him,” Carla said. “To keep the secret.”
“Maybe he did, or maybe he just sent the kid away again. No one could say for sure, an' the agents couldn't figure a solid way to use that tidbit in making a case against Mario, so they just made a note of it an' let it drift so it got buried in the files. Meanwhile, Allegra died from cancer five years ago, so since Mario was the only other one who knew about it, the whole dirty secret basically went with her.”
“Until now,” she mused.
“Think it could help?” Don asked.
“Maybe,” she said, thinking it over. “It depends on why Gio suddenly wants to know about it. Thanks, Don. You've been a big help.”
“So what should I tell the guys upstairs?”
“Tell them I'm close,” Carla said. “Tell them if they give me just a little more time, I can give them the whole rotten Mancini operation on a platter.”
“Godspeed, Carla,” Don replied, ending the call.
Carla dialed Gio's number. He picked up almost immediately. “Hey, it's only been an hour. You miss me already?”
“I found out what you wanted to know about Salvatore,” she answered. “We need to meet as soon as possible. Can I come over?”
“Nah, my father's got some asswipe scopin' out my place to make sure we don't do any late-night fraternizing. Meet me at the restaurant an hour before it opens. We can talk there and it'll look legit.”
“As long as you can make sure no one else is around,” Carla said. “Can you?”
Gio let out a low whistle. “It's that serious?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Trust me, it is.”
“You got it, then,” said Gio. “Just us, no one else.”
“Fine,” Carla agreed. “I'll see you there.”
She hung up, wondering how Gio would take the news when she told him. Even with his hatred for his father, finding all this out would certainly come as a shock.
Once again, she found herself feeling strangely sorry for him.
Chapter 24
Carla
At 10:00 a.m., Carla stood outside The Laughing Fish as Gio pulled into the parking lot in his 'Vette. He cut the engine and got out, swaggering over to her with a big smile as the sunlight glittered off his sunglasses.
“You sure Salvatore wasn't some pizza delivery guy, and this isn't an excuse to get me alone again?” he asked. “'Cause if it is, I have some handcuffs and a ball gag stashed in the trunk just in case.”
He was trying to sound casual and playful, but Carla could hear the tension lurking in his voice. Gio was clearly nervous about learning the truth behind the name, and after what she'd found out, Carla couldn't blame him.
“I'm afraid not, Gio,” she replied. “Let's go inside.”
Gio unlocked the door of the restaurant and they entered together, heading for the back room where they'd first met.
As they sat down, Carla realized that she was having a difficult time looking directly into his face after he'd conditioned her not to during their sessions. She forced herself to meet his gaze, wondering how most people who interacted with each other both inside and outside the kink scene managed their relationships. Did they maintain some hint of their Dominant/submissive roles, even when they weren't at play? Or were they able to simply switch off those modes completely when they were outside the dungeon?
As Carla looked into Gio's eyes, she saw the same domineering intensity burning there that he'd had when he was whipping her and ordering her around. Even though he'd joked about continuing their sexual relationship here, she was fairly certain that Gio was using this attitude as a defense mechanism, trying to control a situation he was worried about.
She was surprised to discover that there was some small part of her that wanted to go along with it, to indulge him somehow, if only to soften the blow of what he was about to hear.
But she knew she couldn't. She had to separate Gio the Dom from Gio the aggrieved son if she was going to have any chance of using this situation to her advantage as an agent.
Some previously-undiscovered element of her wanted to explore a sex life as a submissive more fully, but that element was still small compared to the part of her that had dedicated her life to a career in law enforcement.
“So spill it, then, if it's such a big deal,” Gio smirked. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Carla took a deep breath and told him.
By the time she had finished, his proud shoulders had sagged, and he had the face of a four-year-old desperately trying not to cry.
Chapter 25
Gio
The room seemed to spin around Gio as he sat across from Carla, her last few words hanging in the space between them. His body felt numb and tingly, and his own pulse roared steadily in his temples. He kept his hands clasped tightly in his lap, hoping that would keep them from trembling.
He felt empty, and after a moment, he realized why. For his entire life, his anger had been an empowering tool, a weapon he could reach for in any situation, as ever-present as the guns he always had strapped to him whenever he left the house. He'd never made friends easily, but his temper was his most reliable companion.
Except now that he turned to his rage for support and guidance, he found it had deserted him. Hurt and betrayal stood in its place.
He asked himself if these outrageous things she'd told him could possibly be true. If his anger had been present, no doubt it would have screamed that these were ridiculous lies meant to drive a wedge between him and his father, and it would have commanded Gio to punish her accordingly.
But the hurt and betrayal simply nodded silently in response to the question, and as a chill rippled through Gio's body, he knew with terrible
certainty that yes, these things were all true.
His father. Goddamn it, his own fucking father.
Through the steady throbbing in his head, Gio heard something that sounded like Carla's voice. He cleared his throat, trying to focus. “What?”
“I asked if you're okay,” Carla said.
Gio scrubbed his face vigorously with his hand, trying to make sense of it all. “Well, based on what you're telling me, my dad had another kid I never knew about who got whacked because he wanted to be a gangster. Then he had me, and my whole life, he never bothered to tell me that I came from a fucking test tube like someone's goddamn science fair project. And then he did everything he could to force me into being a gangster, whether I wanted to be one or not. So no, Carla, I'd have to say I'm about four or five thousand miles away from okay.”
“Gio, a lot of people are born from in-vitro fertilization,” Carla said. “It's a very common procedure. There's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yeah, well, there is where I come from,” Gio grunted. “Grown in a fucking lab, and no one ever told me. Jesus Christ.”
Carla paused, then asked, “Gio, you just said Salvatore was killed. What makes you so sure? He could have left town again, gone into hiding...”
Gio shook his head. “No, he's fucking dead, okay? My father did it himself. It was written right there in his journals, along with the rest of his bullshit. That's why I asked you to look into who he was.”
Carla raised her eyebrows. “Journals?”
“And that's the other fucked-up thing,” Gio continued, standing up and pacing around the room. “All these years, all his crap about how blood loyalty is everything, you always do right by your blood...and he killed his own fucking kid. Didn't even send someone else to take care of it, you know? Did it himself.
And then he spends my whole goddamn life pushing me, bullying me, making me do all this horrible shit just to prove myself. You know he made me kill some other undercover Fed earlier this year? He could've sent anyone else to do it. He knew how much I hate doing that stuff, how sick it makes me, but no, he ordered me to do it anyway, and what was I supposed to do, huh?”
“He was my partner,” Carla said quietly.
Gio stared at her in disbelief. “What?”
“The man you killed with the car. Fred Masters. We worked together. He was my friend.” Her face was calm, but she sounded like she had a lump in her throat.
He stood, frozen in place, his jaw working soundlessly. Finally, he said, “I'm sorry. I didn't want to. Fuck, I didn't want any of this, this whole fucking life, and now I'm stuck in it. I've got no way out.”
Carla stood up, went to him, and took his hands in hers tenderly. He blinked at her in disbelief.
“How can you do that?” he asked. “After everything I've done to you? I blackmailed you, forced you to fuck me...I'm the animal who murdered your partner...”
“I know you're not an animal,” she replied gently. “You've done terrible things, but I know the horrors your father put you through, and I don't think you're really that person. And if you really do want a way out, Gio, I can give you one. I can take you far away from all of this so you can finally live the life you want.”
“You mean turn state's evidence against my father,” Gio said. It wasn't a question.
Carla nodded. “You mentioned journals. Does Mario really keep written records of all his criminal activities? He couldn't possibly be that stupid.”
Gio nodded. “Yeah, the asshole's got such a big fucking ego that he's positive no one could ever find them, or crack the code they're written in. But he's got all his heists in there, all his deals and sit-downs with the other families, and everyone he ever bumped off.”
“But you found them?” Carla prompted. “And you can translate the code?”
“Sure,” Gio answered.
“If we can get those journals,” she said, “and have you sign affidavits verifying their translations, we'll have everything we need to put Mario away for several lifetimes, along with all of his associates. We can put you in Witness Protection so you'll be safe.”
“But then what?” Gio asked. “This life, these people...it's all I know.”
“You can start a new life,” Carla told him. “You can do anything you want. Behind your whole gangster act, I've seen that you're a lot smarter than you let on. You could run another restaurant, legitimately this time. You could pursue your sexual needs without having to hide them from your father.”
“But not with you, right?” he said, his eyes suddenly filling with suspicion.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean once all this is over, I'll be in Arizona or Alaska or wherever the hell, and you'll have gotten what you need from me,” said Gio. He took his hands away from hers. “You'll go back to work trying to catch guys like me, and that'll be that. This whole 'take my hand, Gio, I really care about you' thing is just a con so you can get what you want from me. They probably taught you this shit in Fed school.”
Carla said, “Gio, I do care about you. I didn't expect to, but I do. I can see that your decisions haven't really been your own, and I really do want to help you. And...” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “I also didn't expect to enjoy being your submissive, but I did, and it's been a lot for me to try to work through. If you want us to keep exploring this relationship when this is all over, we can definitely talk about that. I'd like to.”
“No, bullshit,” Gio insisted. “All you Feds will say anything, promise anything to guys like me, if it'll get them to flip on their families. But you're lying, I know it. I can't trust anyone anymore.”
Carla took Gio by the shoulders and kissed him.
He hesitated for a brief moment. He wanted to remain suspicious of her—he didn't want to be some sucker who could be fooled by a kiss.
But as her soft lips pressed against his for the first time and their breath mingled gently, Gio felt himself swept away by the passion and sincerity of her kiss. He felt like a drowning man clutching his salvation and he held on tightly, embracing her, never wanting to let her go.
They stayed that way until it was time for the restaurant to open.
Chapter 26
Don
“Journals?” Don repeated into the phone. He leaned back in his office chair. It was the third time he'd uttered the word, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it.
“Yes, journals,” Carla confirmed patiently. “Containing every dark deed Mario's ever done. And we've got the codebreaker, ready and willing to cooperate and testify.”
“If this is true, then Mario must be the dumbest Italian since Nero, keepin' all that written down,” Don said, mystified.
“If it's true, Don—and I'm positive that it is—then this could be one of the biggest, most far-reaching LCN busts in the Bureau's history,” said Carla. LCN was FBI shorthand for La Cosa Nostra, or the mafia. “Not only will we have Mario and his immediate associates dead to rights, but we'll also have detailed accounts of all the times they've cooperated with other organizations. We could bring down three or four major crime families at the same time.”
“Well, let's not go countin' those chickens,” Don warned. He'd participated in plenty of investigations that had seemed like slam-dunks until some small misstep tripped them up in the end, and he'd long since learned the value of cautious optimism. “We still gotta get our hands on those journals, an' even then, we gotta squirrel Gio away an' put him in protective custody before Mario figures out he's been double-crossed.”
“I've got that covered,” Carla assured him. “Gio's getting the journals now, and then we're going to meet at his place so I can officially take him into custody.”
“You want me there for that?” Don asked. “When you're in the home stretch on somethin' like this, a little backup's generally not a bad thing.”
“I think it'll be better if I take him in by myself,” she said. “He seems to trust me. Having other cops there at the start might mak
e him nervous. I can probably keep him calmer during the ride to the field office if it's just the two of us.”
Don thought about the vile sex acts Carla had probably consented to in order to gain Gio's trust, and grimaced. He hated the idea of her having to continue the charade with Gio and submit to his urges for a few more hours, and he wished she'd let him chaperone. Still, she was the agent in the field, so it was her call to make.
“Fair enough,” Don sighed. “If you think it'll make him more cooperative, then that's what counts. Just be careful out there.”
“I will,” Carla promised, ending the call.
As Don put the phone on its cradle, a fresh-faced young agent named Ives ran into his office. His face was red, and he was breathing hard.
