“Very well,” he replies annoyed.
“I need to go,” I say abruptly and dart out of the room, slamming right into Jackson.
“Are you okay?” he asks and I nod. He glances inside the room, “Who else is in there?”
“The real owners of Le Creole,” I say in a panic.
I need to get the heck out of here. I drag Jackson by the hand and practically run out the back exit, breathing heavily as we get to the car. Jackson tries to make conversation with me but I can’t focus right now. What did Hamadi mean by Ms. Badour is no longer with us? Is she dead? God! So much is happening right now. I really need to talk to Valentino but I know he won’t be able to answer me right now, so I send him a quick text.
D: I am on my way back to the house
V: good. Are you okay?
D: a little shaken but I’m okay
V: I am on my way into a meeting. I will text you when I’m done.
D: okay
I pocket my phone and look out the window. Can it be tomorrow already?
~*~
Valentino and I have had a few short texts tonight but basically he seems pressed. I don’t know what’s happening in Chicago but it must be big. I haven’t told him about the owners yet. I will do that when I see him and can actually talk to him face-to-face about everything. Jackson stayed for as long as he could and then left for work. I need to get up early to get to the airport so I don’t stay up late. At least tomorrow I can look forward to being in Valentino’s arms.
I startle awake when I hear movement in my room. I instinctually reach for Betty but my hand hits the oak of my nightstand instead. The mattress moves slightly as someone sits down. I start to scream and feel the gun pressed against my lips as if it were a finger saying shhh. As my eyes adjust to the light, I can make out the figure of a man.
“It’s your fault, Dominique,” Marshall says icily.
I don’t reply. I don’t even know what he’s talking about. I try to move but he leans his body against me, holding me in place. He taps the gun against my lips.
“It’s your fault they took my Whitney away from me.”
He traces the tip of the gun around down my cheek and my body stiffens. Oh God! He’s going to shoot me with my own gun. He carefully runs the gun down my neck, stopping at my pendant.
“She’s dead because Phillipe made a decision that messed us all up,” he uses the gun to lift the pendant. “Why he gave this to you, I will never understand.”
He drops it and lets his gun trace along my collarbone and then stops just above my heart. He taps the gun there and I am frozen in fear, afraid of what he plans to do next.
“I could kill you right now. I should…” his breathing becomes rapid. “Do you have any idea what they did to her?” his voice raises an octave and then he gains control of himself. I, on the other hand, am scared to death. “Yes, I should kill you, for my Whitney, but I won’t because I need you to relay a message for me. Can you do that, Dominique?”
I am lying still, trying to figure out what to do. He’s like a snake that I don’t want to startle. He moves the gun under my chin and makes me nod my head.
“Tell your little boyfriend that if he doesn’t want to end up like his daddy, he will keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him.” He stands suddenly. “Don’t you scream, Dominique, or I will go and slash the throat of the pesky faggot in the other room. He’s your best friend, correct?”
“Don’t you dare touch him,” I grit out angrily.
In the shadows of the darkness, I can see him smile. He salutes me with my gun and then turns, strolling out my bedroom door with Betty in hand. I swallow thickly and then quickly run into Santiago’s room, sliding in the bed next to him.
“You okay, Boo,” he hums, still groggy with sleep.
“I’ll be okay once Marshall and all the other crazies attached to me are dead,” I mumble.
25 Unexpected Help
Valentino Masterson
August 3rd
I keep thinking about Michelle and Tony. Michelle and I were at the office for five hours yesterday. On one of the breaks I was able to talk to Clayton and found out that they did identify Tony’s body. We have to wait for the coroner’s report but it looks like he was shot prior to dying in the fire. I still remember Michelle’s face when I gave her the nod, letting her know that Tony was indeed dead. Her whole demeanor changed after that. She didn’t seem to care anymore. After questioning, I went back and met with the team. With everything that had transpired, Clayton and I decided to pay Komarovski a visit today versus yesterday. I stretch and walk into the living room. I pull out the baggie that has the pendant the boys found in Tony’s pocket. He and Michelle gave in to their feelings and now he’s dead and who knows where she will end up. Yesterday, I started feeling very hesitant about Dominique’s involvement with me. Enrico already let me know that he’s aware of her. If she’s with me, he will use her to get at me. In truth, I need to distance myself from her. I’m just not sure I can do that. This is definitely the wrong time to suddenly start caring about someone. I glance at the clock and steady my resolve before dialing Jackson’s number.
“Hello?”
“I thought you said you could watch her?” I say coolly.
I hear a sharp intake of breath. “I was outside, Valentino. No one came in or out. I didn’t know.”
“You should have been in there. She could have been killed.”
I know it wasn’t his fault that Whitney had done what she did, but I am still very upset that Dominique was cornered like that. I’m so glad that she listened to me and brought the gun there. Who knows what could have happened otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Valentino,” he says with a shaky voice. “I feel horrible. I should have never left her alone. I’ll never forgive myself for what could have happened.”
I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. “Please go to her,” I finally say, clearing my throat. “She’s going in to quit and I don’t want her doing it by herself.”
“I was planning on it,” he says and hangs up.
I brush my hand over my head and stretch again. The guys will be here soon and we will have a lot to do. I roll my shoulders and grab the last of the king cakes, eating them quickly and downing them with a cup of coffee. Soon, I hear several heavy footsteps coming inside.
“A lot has happened,” I start.
“No shit,” Jeff mutters.
I shake my head. “I know that we’re still reeling about Michelle but we have a case to solve.”
“What’s going on, Masterson?” Zach asks, sensing something else is happening.
“When I spoke with Dominique last night, she told me about a situation that happened at the restaurant with Mr. Beauchamp and Ms. Badour.”
“What happened?” Clayton asks, crossing his arms, his expression hard.
I spend the next several minutes telling them everything that Dominique told me. There are a lot of questions, but, in the end, they all agreed, she needed to be protected and that coming to Chicago was the best way that could happen. I can tell that everyone is still a little shell-shocked about Michelle and Tony, and now, with what’s going on with Dominique, we are all on edge, but we don’t have time to really process any of it as we have a case to solve and an explosion to investigate. We decide to split up duties. Zach and Jeff are going back to the scene to go through the rubble at the restaurant while Clayton and I go pay a visit to Dimitri Komarovski, the head of the Komarovski crime family. We will then meet back at the Blue Sanctum afterwards to discuss everything.
On the road to Komarovski’s, I pull out my phone and text Dominique to tell her that I sent someone over to go with her to the restaurant, that I don’t want her going in alone. We text back and forth for a minute, and when she says Jackson is there, which causes me to breathe a little easier.
“Is everything okay?” Clayton asks.
I nod. “Yeah, Jackson just got there. He’s going to take her to the res
taurant and escort her back.”
“That’s good.” We drive a little longer before he speaks again. “Are you sure about this?” He asks as we park in front of Pivnaya na Moskva.
“Yeah. I’m tired of spinning our wheels. I want answers and he has some,” I say, stepping out of the vehicle.
I take a deep breath as we walk across the street and step inside. The bells around the door ring and the few people in there look around to see who has come inside. Dimitri Komarovski is the head of the Russian mob in Chicago. He inherited the position when his father died several years ago but in truth he was running things many years before his father’s death. He’s had the same few people around him his entire life. Now his son, Aleksei, is involved. He’s a bit more of a hot head than his father, but overall Dimitri still makes all the decisions. Aleksei walks up to us, along with two of his buddies.
“I need to speak with Mr. Komarovski,” I say to him.
He smirks and his buddies laugh. “No one speaks to Mr. Komarovski without going through me first. Get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not asking permission, junior, go get your dad!”
“Screw you!” he seethes, stepping up to me.
I move my jacket slightly, showing my badge. He looks at his cronies and starts speaking in Russian. Whatever he says makes them all laugh. Clayton crosses his arms and steps up to the kid. He starts speaking fluent Russian. I don’t know what he’s saying but my guess is he’s threatening him in some way because Aleksei glares at him and starts to reach behind his back when we hear footsteps.
“Bolshoi!” Dimitri states firmly and his kid drops his hand and looks like he was just gut-punched or something.
“Maybe next time, junior,” I smirk and tap his shoulder as I pass by him.
“Please follow me, Agents,” Dimitri says coolly. He then glances at Clayton, giving him a sly smile. “Your Russian is very good. They teach that at the bureau now?”
“No, they don’t,” Clayton states with a scowl.
Dimitri laughs as he motions for us to take a seat at one of the tables. He glances at his son, who is at the bar, leaning against it with his arms crossed. He waves his hand and his son snatches a bottle from behind the counter and a couple of shot glasses. He sets the shot glasses in front of us and pours a drink for Clayton and I and then his father.
“How can we help the Federal Bureau of Investigation?” Dimitri asks mockingly while his son smiles.
“We are actually with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives and we have questions as to why you are meeting with Enrico Sicignano,” I say, downing my shot.
He smiles and I can tell he is trying not to laugh as he raises his glass to his lips, downing his drink. He sets the glass down and eyes me before leaning back. He chuckles as he pulls a cigarette out, lighting it, and then offering me one. I take it and let him light it for me. He offers one to Clayton as well but Clayton shakes his head no. Dimitri’s lip twitches just slightly as he puts the pack away.
“So why are ATF agents in my bar?”
“Why are you meeting with Enrico?” I ask again. “I thought your families hated each other,” I reply, exhaling smoke.
“What you think you know, you do not,” he says through a cloud of smoke.
I pull out some pictures and lay them out one by one while smoking casually. “What I know is Enrico is making a gun deal in New Orleans and that he has been seen meeting with you,” I drop my ashes and glance at his boy before laying a few more pictures down, “and you.”
His son pushes the pictures at me. “I meet with a lot of people.”
Dimitri grins and I bring the cigarette to my lips again, taking a long drag before speaking. “I always pegged you as smarter than Carmine but I guess I misjudged you Mr. Komarovski.”
His features change and I can see a glimpse of the badass I know he is. He stares at me for a long moment until he finally smiles and lights another cigarette, this time not offering me one. He blows smoke out and licks his lips.
“Things are not always as they seem, Agent,” he replies coyly.
“How so?”
He pours another shot of vodka and downs it quickly. He isn’t going to voluntarily give me anything. I know he has something but what can I really offer him that would make him talk. I can’t threaten him because these Russians aren’t afraid of anything and I don’t have any clout with the FBI, so I can’t even offer him protection there either. Finally, I smirk as I put out my cigarette.
“Can you imagine a world without Carmine and Enrico constantly interfering, acting like they run Chicago?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible, hoping I can appeal to his pride.
His smile widens. “Yes, I can imagine that.”
He draws the cigarette to his mouth, smoking, and I can see him contemplating. Finally, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a business card, sliding it across the table. As I pick it up, he stands and nods slightly to his son, who also stands. Dimitri whispers something in his ear and his son turns quickly and I see him pulling out a phone.
“I must ask you to leave now,” Dimitri says in a tone that clearly implies get the hell out.
Clayton and I rise and I pocket the card as we stroll to the exit. I glance up and around and can see people around, the FBI, probably desperate to know what we wanted with Komarovski. Too bad fellas. We get in our car quickly.
“What did the card say?” Clayton asks as we take off.
“It says, Hamadi Mubarak, Entrepreneur, and it lists a phone number,” I answer with a frown and then hear my phone buzz. “Hold on, it’s Dominique.”
D: I am on my way back to the house
V: good. Are you okay?
D: a little shaken but I’m okay
V: I am on my way into a meeting. I will text you when I’m done.
“Come on. Let’s get to my place. We need to see what we can find on this guy.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Clayton says and looks at me. “Have you?”
“No idea who he is.” I glance at him and smile. “Hey, what did you tell his kid back there?”
Clayton grins and shrugs. “He told his buddies that he didn’t care about our badges, so I told him he should care because I had just cause to bring him in, right then and there, and keep him for as long as I wanted. He wouldn’t have any of his boys kissing up to him, no phone call to Daddy to bail him out. Just four concrete walls that didn’t give a damn about him.”
“That was smart, Clayton,” I laugh. “Were you able to make out what he said to his son?”
“He wanted him to check the status of something but he made sure I couldn’t hear what that something was.”
I nod. “Well...” I lift the card up. “At least we have a starting point. Maybe this Mubarak character is the link we’ve been missing to tie it all together.”
“I hope so.”
I swerve in and out of traffic while we head to the Blue Sanctum. My mind is all over the place as I try to put two and two together. I’m so tired of being a step behind on this case. We need to catch a freaking break, that’s for dang sure.
August 4th
I check my watch again. 12:18, it’s late, she’s late. I glance at the arrivals again and it says they have already landed. O’Hare is crowded but that doesn’t surprise me. It’s always that way, especially on a Friday. People are coming and going, always in a hurry. I push my way to where a group of people are coming and that’s when I see her. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and one of those flimsy blouses that she wears a lot. Her eyes catch mine and she immediately starts crying as she rushes to me, shoving people out of the way.
“Valentino,” she cries, flinging herself at me.
“Dominique, what happened? Are you okay?” I say, running my fingers into her hair.
“Marshall, he came to my house last night.”
“What!”
I move so I can see her face. Her eyes are red and swollen and it doesn’t look like she slept at all last
night. My blood is boiling and my eyes dart around the airport as I try to assess if Enrico has any people here. I can’t imagine he does, but the fact that Marshall came to her house last night has me extra paranoid.
“What did he say?”
She starts crying again. “He said to tell you that if you didn’t want to end up like your father you would stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
My heart drops and she launches at me again. I can feel the weight of the world come down on me, as my ears start ringing, something that always happens when I think of what happened to my family. I bury my nose in her hair, trying to wrap around her, envelope her. I can’t lose her, but I also can’t let her go through what I did.
“He took Betty,” she mumbles against my chest.
My body tenses up at the implications of what she has said. Well, that’s just PERFECT! A psychopath is walking around with a gun registered in my name. Can this possibly get any worse?
26 Chicago on My Mind
Dominique Walker
August 4th
I feel his body tense up again. I didn’t want to tell him right here in the middle of the airport but I couldn’t sleep last night or on the plane. I kept having visions of him being blown up and me having to identify his body. When I saw him standing there waiting for me I couldn’t stop the tears as I was flooded with relief that he was okay. His face is weary though, worry and fear are clearly evident in his expression.
“I’m sorry, Valentino.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he tells me, holding me tighter against his chest. “Let’s get out of here, all right? I need to take you somewhere safe.”
I nod as he kisses the top of my head and then grabs the small suitcase I brought. We push our way through the crowded airport where I see that he is parked in a no parking zone. He motions for me to stay on the curb as he kneels and checks underneath the car, for explosives I would imagine, and just like that my heart lurches into my stomach. He then walks back to me and smiles shyly before grabbing my bag again.
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