BREAKING THE LAW

by Chloe Fischer

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Breaking

  The Law

  By Chloe Fischer

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  Prologue

  What the hell are you looking at? She almost barked, but she stoically held her tongue as she weaved through the precinct, pretending not to notice the stares.

  She continued to make her way through the maze of desks toward her unkempt corner, balancing a coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other, and a pencil clenched between her teeth as she pretended not to notice the overt gawks of the other members in the pen.

  It was annoyingly common for Andrea to be stared at like this throughout the day.

  Unbeknownst to her, she was a shockingly attractive woman with a sweeping mane of inky black hair and long lashed blue eyes, two attributes she managed to keep downplayed most of the time.

  Her figure was lean and athletic, but she had been blessed with a voluptuous behind, and a drool-worthy set of tits. Andrea always thought these attributes were a curse, but other women told her she was crazy. “Use what you’ve been given, girl!” was a comment she heard often from her friends, but Andrea tried her hardest to hide these “assets”. Working as a detective and being stunningly attractive were not compatible in her book. She wanted to be seen as a professional – not gorgeous or manipulative.

  Add to all of that, that she was the only female in an overwhelmingly male dominated profession, and you had plenty of staring going on.

  And of course, they all tried to be the first to get her in the sack. At first, it had been almost unbearable, with co-workers coming on to her subtly, and then when that wasn’t successful, trying to cajole or tease her into playing their games.

  Did they really think she would fall for that kind of juvenile behavior? Children.

  That particular day was no different, although there seemed to be a charge in the air, something she couldn’t quite identify.

  Dammit, if someone left another naked wanker come-on note on my desk again, I’m going to put all their goddamn profiles on Craigslist.

  Her glasses were slipping over the bridge of her nose but between the files and the burning liquid filling the cup in her palm, she had little choice but to let them slide along the elegant curve uncomfortably.

  All around her, the men eyed her, a flurry of garbled talk she couldn’t quite hear reaching her ears, but no one bothered to step up and assist.

  Thanks for all your help, jerks, she thought, glancing at the predominately male cast surrounding her. But she wasn’t surprised. It was every man for himself in that office.

  Especially if that man was a woman.

  She dropped what she had in her hands onto the already overflowing surface, checking her fingers to see if fingerprints had been singed off, and finally adjusted her glasses.

  No worker’s comp today, Andrea thought, settling into the creaking seat before the mountain of paperwork on her desk.

  No sooner had she plopped into the worn swivel chair did Sergeant Kovaks yell out from his office at her back.

  “Benito, get in here!”

  Are you serious? I just sat down. She groaned inwardly, pushing her lithe body back into a standing position. What now?

  Andrea suddenly became aware of the whispering in her midst, their voices rising an octave and she eyed her co-workers suspiciously before turning to address the man waiting at her back. She still could not understand what the fuss was about, but a mounting sense of apprehension was filling her gut.

  Am I getting fired? Is this about my paperwork? I’m getting to it now! It’s not my fault fucking Mendez was too hung over to do his DD4s. I’m sick of covering for that lush’s ass all the time.

  Andrea had fought too hard for her position to throw it away because her partner was useless. Anyway, there was no guarantee that the next one would be any better.

  Better an alcoholic than a crooked cop, I guess.

  She would be naïve to believe that everyone didn’t have skeletons lurking in their closets.

  I mean, almost everyone. I’ve got my shit straight, but everyone can’t be me, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

  “What’s up?” she asked, sliding toward the door, a hand flipping through her thick, black waves quickly.

  It was a nervous habit, one she was painfully aware of, but had little control over.

  “Close the door,” he instructed curtly, and Andrea obliged.

  “If this is about Mendez, he was asking for it,” she volunteered and her superior’s eyes flashed.

  “What did you do to Mendez?” he asked suspiciously.

  That’s another thing I need to work on; supplying too much information when it’s not required.

  “Never mind,” she said quickly, offering him a bright smile. “What can I do for you, boss?”

  He grunted slightly, flopping unceremoniously into his chair and shaking his head.

  “I’m not sure you can do anything,” he replied and Andrea stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  “Okay…”

  She waited for him to continue but he seemed reluctant to say anything else, studying her face with porcine eyes as if he was expecting her to say something.

  “Can you give me a hint?” she suggested, not certain she was in the mood for a game of twenty questions.

  Not when there’s fifty fucking pounds of paperwork on my desk right now, thanks to Mendez.

  “What do you know about the Capreses?” he asked and Andrea cocked her head to the side, blinking.

  “The salad?”

  Kovaks groaned so loudly that she was sure the other officers in the office would be able to hear him.

  I guess that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, she thought, wracking her brain for something that would make him less annoyed.

  “How about another hint?” she asked with a sigh, but he shook his balding head side to side.

  “I tried to tell them, this is the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” he moaned. Andrea had a feeling he wasn’t talking to her and she simply sat, awaiting direction.

  Under the fluorescent lights, she could feel the heat of the lamps causing beads of sweat to form on her head, even though the central air was working beautifully in the office.

  It isn’t the lights making you sweat; it’s nervousness, she thought, gritting her teeth and again running her hand through her thick, black waves.

  She hated that her emotions could be so easily displayed.

  When she had taken her detective’s exam, she was sure that was going to be what caused her to fail.

  But of course, she hadn’t failed.

  No one was going to turn away a cop with shooting scores like hers.

  Without military training, Andrea had the ability to shoot with sniper precision, as if she had grown up hitting targets at two hundred yards.

  Coupled with her almost flawless collar record and quiet intelligence, she had made detective within four years of graduating from the academy.

  Anyone should have been grateful to have someone like her on
their team, but the robbery detectives in Miami-Dade were less than thrilled to have a young, attractive woman paired on their watch.

  Andrea knew it was testosterone infused jealousy, but she also didn’t give a shit.

  She was damn good at her job, and she didn’t care who had a beef with it.

  If only she could keep her facial expressions from telling the world precisely how she felt.

  For a second, her blue eyes narrowed and she wondered if this was some kind of hazing trick to make her uncomfortable.

  It was getting old and she was irritated that even after two years, she was still enduring the overload of macho bullshit flooding the department.

  The rest of the world has progressed but inside police departments nationwide, it will always be the fifties. The great blue wall of balls.

  “Well,” she said shortly, rising. “Good talk. If that’s all, I have – “

  “Sit down, Benito.”

  Resignedly, Andrea took her seat again, sighing deeply.

  He was her boss after all. When Kovaks said “jump”, she did the kangaroo song.

  Kovaks continued to stare at her silently and Andrea felt her patience running thin.

  Before she could speak again, there was a knock on the door and she exhaled with relief.

  Saved by the bell, she thought happily, turning her attention toward the doorway as Kovaks barked an order to enter.

  A weaselly looking man entered, his almost bald head reflecting the fluorescent lights in the room.

  “Took you long enough,” Kovaks snapped. “Nice of you to join us.”

  “This place is a damned zoo. I had forgotten how disorganized your precinct is.”

  Kovaks’ scowl deepened and Andrea was afraid his face might cave in.

  “You tell her. I can’t even say the words aloud without cringing.”

  The stranger blinked at Andrea, studying her face with silent scrutiny until she was forced to blush and look away.

  “This is Benito?” he asked.

  “You asked for her, didn’t you?” Kovaks retorted. “You didn’t do your due diligence and bother looking at a picture?”

  Slowly, the unidentified guy with large knobby ears nodded, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. To Andrea’s surprise, he extended a long hand.

  “Terry Draggan,” he offered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Andrea. May I call you Andrea?”

  That depends on who the fuck you are. If you’re Internal Affairs, I’m gonna go with no. If you’re applying to be my personal masseuse, butler, and driver, you can call me anything you want.

  Andrea nodded, saving her commentary for once. Cautiously, she took his hand, glancing at Kovaks through her peripheral vision.

  If possible, her boss looked even more miserable.

  Shit, and I thought I had a problem hiding my feelings. He would be the shittiest actor since Keanu Reeves on the big screen.

  A long, uncomfortable silence ensued as she waited for one of them to speak, but neither seemed eager to inform her what was happening. “What’s going on?” Andrea blurted out, sick of the suspense.

  A strange knot was forming in the pit of her stomach and her cerulean eyes darted from Draggan to Kovaks, waiting for one of them to give her an explanation.

  “I’m with the FBI,” the newcomer announced and Andrea nodded, even though she didn’t fully understand what that had to do with her. His next words helped to clarify her confusion.

  “I need your help with a case.”

  “Oh,” Andrea laughed. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Was it the robbery in Hialeah? I admit, there was something that screamed professional thief. What did they do? Cross state lines with the goods?”

  Terry smiled wanly.

  “No, Andrea,” he replied quietly. “I’m with the organized crime division.”

  She blinked at him, trying to reconcile which one of her open cases might have mafia associations. Nothing immediately came to mind but that didn’t mean anything. Who knew what the mafia was dipping their hands into those days?

  Suddenly, she remembered the sergeant’s earlier question.

  “What do you know about the Capreses?”

  It hit her.

  Of course! The Caprese Family. Still, it made no sense why the FBI would be asking her about them.

  She worked robbery, not narcotics or special victims. What did she know about trafficking or drug runs?

  “Okay…”

  “We were wondering if you might be interested in helping us with bringing down a very dangerous crime family here in Miami.”

  “Tell me what you need and I’m here to help,” she replied brightly. Kovaks seemed even angrier by her words but Andrea had learned over time that the man was just happier being miserable.

  “No, Andrea, I need you to come on board with us,” Draggan explained patiently.

  Andrea gaped at him, her eyes darting back toward Kovaks’ disgruntled expression.

  “You want me to work with the FBI?” she gasped, again looking at her boss. But Kovaks just continued to scowl.

  Agent Draggan smiled thinly.

  “Actually, Andrea, we have a very special assignment for you.”

  She waited, her heart beginning to thud in her chest.

  “We’d like you to go undercover.”

  Andrea’s mouth parted and she let out a snort of disbelief.

  “Undercover? With the mob? Why don’t you just put a bullet in me right now?” she chuckled nervously, the blood draining from her face. She whirled and turned to Kovaks to see if he was smiling, but he was not.

  Suddenly she realized it wasn’t a joke.

  Indignation flooded her body.

  “Really? Do the men resent me so much for making detective that this is the way you get rid of me?” she directed the accusation to her boss.

  Kovaks snorted.

  “Stop being such a goddamn drama queen, Benito. This was not my idea, believe me. I tried to dissuade this idiot but he went above my head.”

  Andrea turned back to the agent, her face drawn in anger.

  “Are you running out of brunettes at the FBI? Now you just randomly pluck us out of police stations for dispensable bodies?”

  Terry grinned, a glimmer of amusement touching his dark eyes.

  “Is this funny to you?” her narrowed eyes and hands on hips stance didn’t seem to intimidate the large man at all.

  “Of course not,” he replied, quickly wiping the smile off his face. “But I knew you would be perfect. You just showed me you have what it takes.”

  Andrea gaped at him.

  “I have nothing for what it takes to be an undercover agent. No training and no talent for lying. You will send me in there and get me killed.”

  “If you agree to this, you will be properly trained beforehand.”

  “Yeah? Where are you going to send me for actor training? Julliard?”

  “You’re not as far gone as you think. Everyone has the propensity to be a good undercover agent. You only need to tap into those skills. Do you think you can do that?”

  Andrea scoffed.

  “You make it sound like I have a choice,” she spat.

  “Of course you have a choice,” Kovaks growled. “Jesus Christ, would you just hear the man out before you go off on another tirade?”

  Andrea inhaled, trying to keep her temper in check.

  “I thought you were opposed to this!” she snapped at her boss but her attention was still fixated on Terry Draggan.

  “There are reasons we have come to you specifically, Andrea,” Agent Draggan explained and Andrea felt the hairs on her arms raise.

  “Such as?”

  “You speak fluent Italian, you were raised in Miami and…you know how things operate.”

  “There are hundreds of people better suited to this,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her full bust. “I can probably supply you with a list if you ask me nicely.”

  The men exchanged a qui
ck look and Andrea sensed there was more to the story.

  Agent Draggan cleared his throat.

  “Andrea, your cousin, Valentina,” he said softly. “Do you remember her?”

  Anger flared brightly within her.

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I remember her. I had just graduated from the academy when she died.”

  Terry glanced at his folded hands.

  “Andrea, Valentina was working undercover for us when she went missing. Her UC name was Mara Cordoza and she stayed under for two years. Everything was going really well. We had no reason to suspect anything was wrong and then one day she just vanished. No one ever knew for certain what happened to her. Over the past three years, we’ve sent in other operatives, talked to CIs and spoken to members of the mafia family, but it’s as if she disappeared into thin air. We declared her dead officially, to give your family closure. And she more than likely is. We theorize that she was discovered as an agent and murdered, her body sent out to sea but…”

  Andrea’s heart froze.

  “You told us she was dead,” she choked. “You led us to believe that she died in a shoot-out! You lost all the agents on your team in that sting!”

  Terry Draggan nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We couldn’t compromise our investigation by telling you the truth. In reality, she did disappear on the night of that operation. But no one knows where she went or what happened.”

  Andrea shook her head, trying to make sense of what she had learned.

  “They’re going to be suspicious of a girl asking about a former agent. You don’t know if her cover was blown or – “

  “You’re right, we don’t know anything, but other agents have gone in successfully,” Draggan interjected.

  “You sent in other operatives and they made it out alive?” she asked suddenly, her head whipping up to stare at Draggan.

  He nodded.

  “No one else has been discovered or harmed in any way since. Which also made us wonder if we were wrong about what happened to Valentina. Our operatives weren’t met with any more suspicion than usual.”

  Andrea thought of her Aunt Stella, still mourning the loss of her child and her gut twisted with agony.