“What?” Immediately my stomach drops. My eyes snap to the wallet sized mug shot paper clipped to the inside corner of the folder. This has to be a joke. My eyes search the photo, looking for any signs that this is a mistake, but it isn’t. Staring back at me is a younger Tony, or Antonio Spinelli. His tousled black hair is longer than it is now. His gorgeous plump lips are curled into a deviant smirk, his strong jaw locked in anger. That’s the same jaw that I was licking last week. Oh God, he looks the same but different. His face is etched with an unlawful determination and his eyes swimming with a reckless anger.
“You’ve been dating Mr. Spinelli?” Agent Oliver’s strong voice slowly seeps into my subconscious, pursuing my rational brain as it runs to hide.
All I can do is nod, swallowing the bile that’s stinging the back of my throat.
“Good. Interpol and the LAPD what to speak with you. You’ve just landed the big fish they’ve been trying to snare for years.”
Agent Oliver’s voice fades into the white noise hissing in my head. I read the file sitting in front of me.
Antonio Spinelli: Born Napoli, Italy.
Father: Benito Racossi.
Graduated law school in Milano.
Member of the California bar. Well at least he told me the truth about that.
Consigliere to Donna Maria Carloni.
“Benito Racossi?” My head cocks to the side, trying to place the name.
“Benito Racossi, runs the entire olive trade in Napoli. Mr. Spinelli grew up in Italy, and was making a name for himself as a petty criminal long before his father took him into the business.” Agent Oliver leans back in his chair, making it strain under his height and weight. “Mr. Spinelli was married to a Valentina…” His voice stops as he snaps his fingers trying to remember. “Shit I can’t remember her last name. You’ll find it in the file when you read it. She was murdered in a car bomb that was meant for Mr. Spinelli.”
He was married? She was murdered because of him? The room starts to slowly spin.
“Antonio is suspected of murdering the men who killed his wife.” Agent Oliver digs through the file and produces a black and white photo of two descended men. “They murdered his wife.” His pointer finger taps harshly on the photo.
“He had one sibling, a sister, Nella, deceased. She was raped and murdered over a marriage of all things.”
Oh my God. That’s why he avoids my questions.
“Mr. Spinelli came to America, specifically L.A., to avenge his sister’s murder. He’s suspected of killing the men that raped, and murdered his sister.”
“Haylee, he’s a capo in the Giraldi crime family.” I jump, Roy’s voice startles me.
“What?” A jolt of panic hits my system. “Shit.” My eyes squeeze shut. Emotion after emotion assaulting my innards.
“Currently, he’s being investigated by Interpol and the LAPD for running a real-estate-assessment-racket, money laundering and the list goes on.”
All of a sudden there’s a loud snicker from the back of the room. Xander.
“She sure knows how to pick ‘em, right Oliver.” Xander’s cocky voice hits my system, sending it into attack mode.
“Shut up asshole.” I snap to my feet, almost tipping the chair over. I lung in his direction only to slam into Roy’s chest.
“Haylee, he’s not worth it.” Roy whispers in my ear as he prevents me from castrating the two timing asshole.
“That’s quite enough. Both of you.” Agent Oliver scowls at both Xander and me. “Have a seat Agent Nichols.”
I growl and plop back into the hard wood chair.
“Fine — now,” he clears his throat. “We’re moving Agent Roy into the apartment above you. That way if your cover is blown you don’t have to take on the Neapolitan mafia by yourself.” He chuckles like he’s just cracked the funniest joke. “What we need from you Agent Nichols is to get close to both of these men. Find out what you can. Christ, sleep with both of them. If that’s what it takes to put these bastards behind bars and get the flow of opium off the streets in at least one town — do it.”
I hear a low threatening growl start in the back of Roy’s throat, that’s a bad sign.
I change the subject before Roy gets himself fired. “So what’s Xander doing here?” I can’t hide the contempt from my voice.
I sit here, slowly dying on the inside. My mind wanders, not hearing a word about the new operation that the bureau has concocted. I’m fighting with everything I have not to break into tears. If they only knew the truth.
Oh God. I was suddenly being torn in two, because of these two men.
Chapter Twelve
Johnathan
Un-fucking-believable! My eyes scan the file that Will Stanton messengered to my office.
“Yea Will, I got it.” I chuckle under my breath as I adjust the receiver against my mouth. “It’s perfect, exactly what I was looking for.” Suddenly, my eyes snap to my door as it flies open.
“SIR! SIR! You can’t go in there sir!” Jen pushes her small frame in between my visitor and my office.
“I gotta go Will, keep digging. I’ll talk to you soon.” I hit ‘end,’ and slide my phone into my pocket.
“It’s okay Jen, let Mr. Spinelli in.” I can’t believe my fucking eyes. Standing in front of me is none-other than Antonio Spinelli. He’s taking quite a risk showing his face here.
“Are you sure Sir? I can call security.” Jen, sounds out of breath as she tries to keep herself between me and Antonio,
“It’s fine.” I wave her off. “Your goons wait outside though.” I hiss, eyeing the two thugs that are flanking his sides.
“Wait outside.” He snaps.
“Please have a seat.” I motion to the chair in front of my desk. Walking over to my office door I shut it behind Jen, locking it. I don’t want any interruptions.
“I’ll stand.” His lips curl into a scowl. “What I have to say won’t take long.”
I laugh out loud. “Fine, say what you have to say than get out.”
“Faith Winters is with me.” He hisses in his Italian accent.
“Oh, I beg to differ.” I snarl back. If this asshole thinks I’m going to let him stride into my office and warn me off Faith, he has no idea who he’s dealing with. I walk back to my desk, sliding into my chair. “Faith, is not some whore you can fuck and then run back to your L.A. punta’s.”
His laughter echoes off the walls, taunting me to strike first. “That’s rich coming from a man with your reputation Drazen.” His lip twitch.
“Fuck you.” My words forcefully erupt through the thickness in the air.
“No. Fuck you. If you think I’m going to walk away from her, you’re Loco.” He smirks, twirling his finger next to his ear.
“You have no idea how crazy a mother fucker I can be.” My eyes flash with murder.
I watch humor fill his eyes. “You think you’re crazy?” He openly chucks. “You think you scare me? I’ve slit the throats of many men who have thought they were crazier than me.”
I let a knowing smirk slide across my face, he just walked right into my next move. I chuckle, unintimidated.
“What? You think I’m joking? I’ve killed more important men than you to get where I am.”
I stand, leaning in, threatening the fucker. “You think I haven’t killed to get where I am you low life Italian street punk. You touch her again, I’ll put you and your organization in the ground.”
To my surprise he erupts into a thread of hysterical laughter. “You think you can touch me?” All humor vanishes from his face, as his eyes turn black. “Try. It.”
“You actually think Faith is going to want anything to do with you when she finds out about your sister?” I watch rage erupt in his eyes. That’s what I wanted to see. I want to keep him off balance, make him so mad he screws up.
“That’s Napoli business, anyway, she’d never believe you.” He throws me a cocky grin.
I throw my head back, as a deep throaty chuckle erupts f
rom my chest. Now comes the fun part. “Really?” I flip through the file my private investigator just sent me. I search until I find what I’m looking for. “Four Neapolitans, from a rival family I believe?” I slowly slide three pictures of their dead corpses on top of my desk. “Seems only three of the men ended up dead with their cocks shoved in their mouths. Not a pretty picture for Ms. Winters to experience — don’t you agree?” I cock a knowing eyebrow.
“You can prove nothing.” His eyes thin, trying to read my next move.
“Really? I wonder where the fourth man is?” My eyes lock with his, threatening something I don’t have yet — but I will.
“You have nothing.” His face is like stone, his eyes cold and dead.
“So sure of yourself. After she finds out you took their territories, I don’t think she’s gonna need any more proof than that. What do you think Mr. Spinelli?” I raise a cocky eyebrow.
“You might want to rethink that plan Drazen.” His eyes light up with knowledge.
“Oh really?” I settle in my chair. “Do tell,” I chuckle.
“Funny things about skeletons, some of them never die.” He hisses as he pulls a folder out from under his coat.
I lean back, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair, steepling my fingers under my chin. Whatever he has is nothing. I bury any fear and show him nothing.
“She was beautiful – Rachel Demarest.” His Italian accent is laced with sharpness, a sharpness that just heightened my senses. Slowly his eyes light up with a look I know well — revenge.
Where the fuck did he get that? My shoulders tighten before I can stop them. I try to shrug it off passively, not giving him anything to feed off of.
My eyes burn with anger as he sets a picture of Rachel on my desk, covering the photos of his brutal handy work. “Was she a good fuck?” His voice taunts me, trying to pick a fight.
“Fuck off.” I hiss.
“They never found the body? You a magician?” His eyes twinkle.
He’s holding something back, I can see it in his eyes. He wants to drag this out and make me squirm. Well I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I watch his eyes scan his file before he speaks. “Polizia, they found a bong containing chartreuse absinthe, traces of White Widow bud and…” He pauses, smirking like an asshole. “I like this part. They found DNA belonging to a Johnathan S. Drazen III. Tsk - Tsk, only sixteen years old.”
“You’ve got nothing,” I hiss. I knew of the file he had. Somehow he got his hands on the police report. Fuck.
“The cover up was perfection. Your father, right?” His eyes thin.
I say nothing, just glare back.
“Says they found you passed out on a random front lawn, and your car was found three miles away on the beach.” I watch his eyes scan the file. “No girlfriend in sight. What a shame. You fuck her that night?”
My jaw locks. “You’re wasting my time.” I hiss through my teeth.
“Really? You think Faith will find it a waste of time when she finds out you killed your girlfriend and your father buried it. The chicken shit paid off her family?”
“Prove it.” I smirk, knowing that my father’s connections with the syndicate have hidden the truth well.
“A person can’t prove something that’s not true?” He chuckles, goading me, taunting me with something he thinks he knows.
“You think you have something, just say it.” I yawn. “I’m getting tired of this cat and mouse shit.”
“Oh I don’t think I have something. I. Do.” He tosses the file into the center of my desk. “You had a short stay in Westonwood after almost committing suicide. In my world suicide is for the pussy’s who can’t handle the truth.” He leans forward. “You a pussy?”
I bolt forward, this asshole is really beginning to fuck me off. “Fuck off.” Where the hell did he get those records? They’re supposed to be sealed. My father supposedly buried them.
“Seems your father is creative. Painted an ugly picture of the Demarest family. Funny how the investigation just ends.” He wiggles his fingers through the air. “Everyone involved just decided to quit talking. Convenient.” He chuckles.
I bury my anger and hurt, not wanting to give this asshole the satisfaction of ripping open a scar that had healed years ago. “That all you got?” I snarl. “It’s old news. You’re gonna have to do better than that to bring me down.”
“Ah, but I’m not after you. Just Faith. She finds all this out — she won’t touch you with — how do you say it? A ten foot pole.” His lips part into a wide cocky smile.
“Again, unimportant past. No dead body — only rumors. Faith will never believe you.” I grin with a new found confidence. I smile knowing I still have a few more cards to play.
“Tsk - tsk Drazen. Once again, you underestimate this so called street punk.”
“If you have something else to say, say it or get the fuck out.” I point to my door.
His eyes come to life, swirling evil and black. Finally, I see the lethal fire that makes him fit for the mafia. “You know why they couldn’t find a body?” He cocks his head and smirks. “Because there wasn’t one. She’s. Still. Alive.” He hisses.
Fuck! How the hell?! My face turns to stone. This could come back to bite me. “Now who’s the loco one.” I try to deflect.
“She was pulled out of the ocean, brain dead.” He leans forward placing both hands on my desk. “Your ex-wife helped you stash her away like a dirty little secret.”
That’s it. I bolt across the desk, grabbing this little prick by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “If I were you, you little fucker, I would shut the fuck up.”
His eyes dance with success, as his laughter fills the room. He got what he came for — he got under my skin. “Been to visit lately? She’s still beautiful, even if she is a vegetable.”
My mind snaps, thinking that this piece of shit saw her, was in her room. “You stay the fuck away from her.”
Without warning, he lands a hard uppercut, effectively dislodging me from his collar. “You call me a piece of low life shit.” His voice is lethal, as he lands a right hook sending me against my desk, the taste of iron flooding my mouth. “You tell me not to fuck with Faith? You’re no better than I am you bastard!”
I rush Antonio, slamming him against the wall. “If I were you — I’d leave it alone. I’ll kill you.”
“Try it.” He digs his shoulder into my stomach, knocking me against the bookshelf. “You come after me, we’ll see who can fill more body bags.”
A loud banging separates us from killing each other. “Mr. Drazen! Mr. Drazen! Are you okay sir? Shall I call security?” Jen’s frightened voice filters through the locked door.
“I’m fine, Jen.” I snap, thrusting Antonio away by his collar. “No security.”
“Are you sure sir?” She frantically tries the door knob.
“I said no fucking security! Leave it!” My voice ricochets off the walls.
Silence fills the room. I stand and watch as Antonio straightens his tie and runs his fingers through his hair. Jessica, that bitch. It was her, she told him everything — she had to.
“Faith will be mine. You breathe a word to her, I’ll blow your fucking life apart!” His threats dance on his tongue, ready and waiting to strike.
“Faith will never be yours!” I stride to my desk, grabbing his file off the top. “Take your fucking file of lies and get the hell out of my office.”
“Keep the file. A memento.” He ducks as I fling the file in his face.
“Fuck you! You want a war you punk? You got it!” I slam my fist on the desk. “I will bury you.”
“Come voui tu, asshole.” His voice turns ice cold, his eyes turning pitch black. “Come voui tu.” He turns and strides to the door, unlocking it.
“Mr. Spinelli?” I stand, wiping the blood from my busted lip. I wait for him to turn and meet my gaze. “If you don’t stay away from Faith — you’re gonna need more than that St. Christopher’s
medal to protect yourself from me.”
“Fuck you.” He turns and walks out of my office, leaving chaos in his wake.
Chapter Thirteen
Faith
Tony is Antonio Spinelli? Johnathan and his father are working together? My heart cracks, pain seeping through my system. I sit in my car staring at the parking garage wall. Grey concrete. “What in the hell am I going to do?” I whisper softly. Suddenly, a random tear races down my cheek followed close by two, than three. Shit, my life has just been torn apart — again.
What the hell have I done? I’ve slept with both men, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve broken all my rules. I hate to even think the words, I think I’m in love with both men. My god, Agent Oliver would have done cartwheels if he’d known I’d slept with Antonio and Johnathan. ‘Fuck them both. I don’t give a shit what you have to do.’ His voice echoes through my head, tearing at my soul. I recklessly swipe the back of my hand over my cheek. Well, I have fucked them both. A piece of my heart dies, and falls into my hallow stomach.
I grab the steering wheel with both hands, my forehead falling forward. I sob uncontrollably. What the fuck am I going to do? I don’t know if I can play games with both men. Then a terrifying thought floods my mind, the roses. Johnathan knows about Tony, I mean Antonio. Fuck! They’ll rip each other apart. Christ, they’re both from L.A. Will Johnathan know who Antonio is?
My body freezes, terror coursing through my veins. I’m walking a tightrope, playing a deadly game I can’t win. In the end, someone’s going to end up dead and that could very well be me. Realization slaps me in the face, not only could my relationship with both men been torn apart but so could my life. My heart feels like it’s been torn in two. My career is over as soon as one, or both men find out who I am.
Even if Interpol and the FBI get enough on Antonio to lock him away, his organization will hunt me down until they bury me in the ground. I’m dead no matter what.
The Drazen World: Torn (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Torn #1) Page 11
