by Zoey Parker
Carla squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm sorry. I really, really am.”
“You don't have to be sorry,” Don said. “But you do have to tell your handler—that's me, by the way, in case you forgot—where the hell you're runnin' off to when you can't be reached. I need to know your whereabouts at all times, darlin', or else this whole damn thing won't work an' you'll be on your own if you get into trouble. An' I cannot allow that to happen, understand?”
“I understand,” she answered quietly. She could hear the concern in his voice, and she felt terrible. “But all I can tell you is that what I'm doing is crucial to this case, and for it to work, I can't have my cell phone on me during certain periods. I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything when this is over, I promise. But I can't tell you now. I just can't, or it'll all have been for nothing. I need you to trust me, just for a little while longer. Can you do that, Don? Please?”
There was a long silence from the other end of the phone. Finally, Don said, “I think I have a pretty good idea of how you've decided to handle this thing, Carla. An' I guess we both know I can't come right out an' say it on this call, 'cause it's bein' recorded an' we could both end up in a whole mess of trouble later on. But I'm gonna go ahead an' trust you, 'cause you ain't never given me a reason not to, an' that's a damn sight more than I can say for most people.”
Carla sighed with relief. She knew she should have guessed that Don would eventually figure out what she was doing based on their previous discussions about Patty. “Thank you. I really appreciate it...”
“Well, now, don't go appreciatin' it too much yet,” Don continued, “'cause for this to work, you gotta give me somethin'. I know you can't talk about these secret excursions of yours, but the taped conversations you've sent in from your meetings with Gio an' Mario have given us precisely squat, an' the folks upstairs are gettin' a mite restless.”
Carla raised her eyebrows. “Why the hell would they be getting restless already? Fred was undercover for seven months—I've barely been undercover for three weeks!”
“Yeah, but Fred's career was also a damn sight longer than yours,” Don said, “so he had a lot more credit in the bank where them boys were concerned.”
“Plus he was a man,” Carla pointed out sourly.
“Well, you said it, not me,” Don agreed mildly. “But you gotta give me somethin' I can put in a report, darlin'. Anythin' that makes it look like we might be makin' progress here, so I can get 'em to back off while you're...doin' what you're doin'.”
“It's been pretty tricky,” she said. “Gio's running the restaurant clean, and I can't suggest that he do otherwise without having the case thrown out due to entrapment. He'd made a few half-assed references to collecting money from low-level pot dealers and that kind of thing, but it's nothing any decent lawyer couldn't get him out of if we busted him for that.”
“What about Mario? Have you gotten close enough to get anything on him?”
“Mario's doing a good job of isolating his rackets from Gio's,” Carla answered. “I think he's worried Gio might get sloppy and trip him up somehow. And believe me, Gio knows his dad doesn't trust or respect him, and he resents the fuck out of it.”
“Can we use that somehow?” Don asked. “If Gio ain't a fan of his old man, can we maybe get him to flip?”
Carla thought this over. “It's possible, but it's still a bit of a stretch. Even though Gio hates his father and isn't that interested in the gangster life, with these Sicilians, family is everything. We'd need something heavy to hold over Gio's head to get him to rat out Mario. Unless...”
“Unless what?” Don prodded her.
“Hey, Don, are you in front of your computer right now?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Okay, good. I need you to look into the files on Mario, going back twenty or thirty years. See if you can find anything at all about someone named Salvatore who he'd have been associated with around that time. Personally, not professionally.”
“Good thing you narrowed it down,” Don grunted. Carla heard his fingers clacking on the keyboard in the background. “What's this about, hon?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “But it seemed like it was worrying the hell out of Gio, so maybe it'll give us something to go on. I know it's a longshot, but...”
“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.”<
br />
“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 o
ff.”
“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.”
