by Diana Layne
The cuffs made Luigi look like a prisoner. Like she was a prisoner. Had always been a prisoner. “I don’t have any rope--” Her voice trembled as delayed reaction set in. This whole ordeal was more nerve wracking than she planned and she was very close to losing it.
“Perhaps chains? A whip?”
With a boyish grin on Dave’s face, Marisa realized he was joking with her, trying to calm her. She attempted a smile of her own but it faded away. “Fresh out of chains. Sorry.”
“Stay with me a minute, Princess. There has to be something.” His gaze scanned the room. He got up and walked to her computer center. “Maybe some of these wires. This wire looks perfect if there’s enough--”
“Wait! Don’t mess with my cords.” She went to the front closet. “There’s some extra wire left from when I had another phone line installed. Of course now I have cable internet and don’t need two phone lines. But the wire is still here.” She pulled out a small roll of gray wire.
Dave nodded. “Handy.” He went back to Luigi. “Help me get him into a chair. Bring one of those dining table chairs. I don’t think there’s enough wire to tie him into one of these fancy wing chairs of yours.”
Marisa brought the chair, then struggled to help Dave lift and settle Luigi’s dead weight into it. She held Luigi while Dave wrapped the wire around him several times, securing him to the chair. Luigi’s head slumped forward.
“He looks uncomfortable,” she said.
“He’s going to be more than uncomfortable when he wakes up with that knot you put on his head.”
Marisa fingered the knot and cringed. Luigi had never been anything but good to her. Even if he was her father’s right hand man.
“I’ll call for back up now.” He had just pulled out his phone when it rang. They both jumped. He recovered and answered, “Armstrong.” He listened. “Shit, how bad is he?”
How bad was who? Marisa wondered. Sandro? Her heart sputtered. She prayed her father hadn’t caught up with Sandro.
“Everything else went okay, then?”
Marisa relaxed a little. Even if Sandro had been injured, it couldn’t be bad.
“Listen, I’ve got a pick-up for you at Midnight. Yeah, Mr. Right-Hand man himself.”
“Wait, Dave.” She tugged on his arm.
He paused to look at her.
“Don’t forget about Luigi’s men watching the place.”
“Oh, that’s right. On second thought there might be a problem here,” Dave said. “There are some old friends visiting who need to go home now. Yeah, both exits at least. You think you can make them? You’ll take care of it then?” Dave nodded. “Okay, call me back as soon as it’s clear.” He punched the button to disconnect.
“Who was hurt?” she asked.
“Frankie.”
“Is it bad?”
“Not too bad. A shoulder wound.”
“And Sandro?”
“He got away just as planned.”
That was good, right? It was okay to feel relieved, she told herself. Everything was working as planned. Well, except for the little glitch with Luigi. But now he was contained. She pulled off her jacket and collapsed on the sofa. “Guess we’ll be waiting here for a while.”
“I’ll call Sandro and see what he has to say,” Dave said, pulling up the number. When Sandro answered, Dave said, “Are you safe?” A pause. Then, “How’d it go?” Dave listened for a few moments, had several more questions and suggestions for Sandro before he glanced at his watch and ended the call with, “We’ll see you before then.”
“Before when?” Marisa asked as Dave slid his phone into his jacket pocket.
“Sandro is giving your father a chance to call the banks to check on his now non-existent accounts. Only trouble is, the banks don’t open for another five hours.”
“How is Sandro holding up?”
“Better than I expected considering that Massimo has taken a sudden interest in Nia.”
Marisa sat up straighter and sent Dave a piercing look. “What sort of interest?”
“Mostly bullshit, I think. You know, threatening that he’d be happy to take care of the grieving widow.”
“Oh, no,” Marisa whispered. “Massimo has been infatuated with Nia since he first saw her, but Sandro would never let him close.”
It was Dave’s turn to send her a sharp look. “Infatuated? You don’t think . . .”
Marisa shrugged. “My brother has never been one to deny himself what he wants.”
“Damn.” Dave’s chin sagged toward his chest.
Marisa knew the guilt he must be feeling. The worry Sandro must be feeling. “How is Sandro reacting?”
“Typically,” Dave told her. “I think he’s got your brother’s murder planned right along with your father’s.”
“No!” Marisa blurted. She caught herself before she added, Massimo belongs to me. Massimo was the one who planted the bomb. She owed him.
Dave misunderstood her reaction. He knelt in front of her and took her shoulders. “We won’t let your brother or your father die.”
Taking a deep breath, she tried to make Dave understand. “If my brother and my father live, then Sandro and his family will never be safe. No matter where they go.”
“It’s not too late, Marisa. Turn over that information on those accounts and we’ll haul their asses into jail so fast--”
“They won’t stay in jail. My father is very smart, has the best lawyers. You know there’ll be some technicality--”
“We’ve learned a lot of lessons over the years. Many former mob bosses are living out their last years in prison.”
“Even if they go to jail, my father can run the family from his cell. At least for a while, and especially if Luigi and Angie stay loyal. Sandro will still be in danger.”
“Then we need to find a way to limit your father’s power. Possibly have him deported if the Italian authorities were after him--”
“I don’t know how much information the Italians have. We had just gotten rumors that they were starting an investigation. After having seen what they did to the other families, we decided to not risk capture. For all I know, the Italians gave up on investigating us after we left.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Dave said. “But if that’s not a route we can go, then perhaps we can get Angie or Luigi to turn. If they won’t help us, then at least we might put a bug in their ear that this is their chance to be boss. If we’re real lucky, they’ll kill each other.”
Shock zapped Marisa, she knew she couldn’t hide it from her face.
“What?” Dave asked. “You can calmly speak of your family’s death, but is possibly losing Luigi too much for you?”
A bitter smile replaced the shock. “Jealous, Dave?” She ran her fingers along his collar.
He caught her hand. “Maybe.”
Not the answer she wanted to hear. She slipped her hand free and changed subjects. “You don’t think he’s hurt seriously, do you?” She moved over to kneel in front of Luigi, she took his wrist. “His pulse seems strong enough.”
“You do care for him,” Dave accused.
“I feel guilty for using him,” Marisa corrected him, then stood and tried to get his focus off Luigi. “It won’t work. If you arrest my father. For all we know he has some trigger in place to kill Nia and Danny if he’s arrested. We have to get them safe first.”
“I can’t imagine you continuing to be caught up in this life.”
“I won’t,” she answered. “I’m finished.”
Dave turned away and walked to a window, staring out on the street below. “So you wouldn’t have married Luigi if things had turned out differently?”
Marisa hated that Dave had heard that conversation between her father and Luigi. She hadn’t even known about it.
“No,” she answered Dave at last, moving beside him to look out the window. “My goal has always been to get out of the Mafia. I would never marry a member.”
Dave continued to stare out the window.“W
ould you marry someone in the FBI?”
The question came out of nowhere. Stunned, Marisa turned to stare at Dave’s profile since he was still watching the traffic below. She wasn’t able to look into his eyes. She didn’t know if he was serious.
Then he looked at her, and his gaze said dead serious.
Her heart beating fast, she decided to be cautious, yet truthful. “I don’t know. The FBI is like a “family” itself. Look at you, for example. Your father before you was in the FBI. Your son after you will probably be in the FBI. After growing up in just such a hierarchy, I don’t know if I can handle it for the rest of my life.”
He turned back to the window. “The FBI is slightly different from the mob, Princess.”
“Just because it’s a legal organization, doesn’t mean it still doesn’t control your life.”
“There’s another difference. An agent can quit the FBI without having to die.”
She shrugged. “Point taken.” She smoothed her hand over his back to hide her uncertainty, then asked before she could stop herself. “Would you quit?”
He turned and wrapped her hands with his own, holding them against his chest. His gaze held hers. “Would you ask me to quit?”
“There’s no use in this discussion. I shouldn’t have asked.” She broke eye contact, her stomach sinking.
“Why?”
“We barely know each other.”
“I feel like I know you. Very well.”
“You know what I told you. You have to realize it affected me.” She stared at his chest, just above where he held her hands.
He moved his right hand, and with his finger, he tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I respect you just for surviving, Marisa.” He kissed her. Gently, softly.
Marisa’s head spun with possibility. But she had to pull herself back to reality. She knew what lay ahead. Dave didn’t. There was no way he’d want to be with her when he knew exactly what she was capable of doing. Of what she would have to do. Still, she wouldn’t shut the door permanently. Not just yet. “When it’s all over,” she told him, “if you can honestly tell me that you respect me--”
“I already told you--”
“No, I mean when it is all over, if you can tell me that you still respect me, then maybe there is a chance for us. Whether you leave the FBI or not.”
Dave pulled her closer for another kiss, but this time a moan interrupted them.
Marisa turned from Dave to look at Luigi. “He’s waking.”
“Maybe now is a good time to suggest it would be wise to cooperate with us.”
“He will never cooperate, but I will try.” She walked over and knelt down. “Luigi? Gigi, can you hear me?”
He moaned again. Then slowly, he opened his eyes. They were clearly out of focus. He blinked and squinted, a pained frown covering his face. “Marisa? Por Dio, my head.” His awareness coming back, he realized he was restrained in the chair. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry I had to hit you.”
His sharp, narrowed gaze told her he remembered everything now.
“You.” Luigi spat the word. “Are you trying to kill me? What are you doing with the FBI? Are you plotting something against your father?” He was a whole fountain of questions now that he was cognizant. He also had his own answers. “Of course. You must be. Why would you turn on your father, Marisa?”
“I am helping Sandro.”
Surprise momentarily erased the pain from Luigi’s face. “Sandro? Do you love him still, then? Are you trying to win his gratitude if not his love?”
“I’m trying to do what is right--”
“Since when has what’s right and wrong ever bothered you?”
The jab hit sharp and true. Marisa looked to Dave and sent him a silent message. See, I told you. I’m not worthy of respect.
“It was wrong of my father to take Sandro’s family to make him cooperate with something illegal.”
“And to make it right, you stole all of your father’s money?”
Marisa was experienced at concealing her emotions, but Luigi’s accusations were so unexpected, she couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Oh, yes, I know it was you, Marisa. I know your skills with the computer. And your alibi didn’t pan out since your “friends” failed to back up your story about the opera.”
“Did you hurt my friends?”
“It took a little coercion.”
She felt sad for her friends, who by now would want nothing more to do with her. “Gigi--”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you still love Sandro? Is that why you are willing to destroy your father?”
“No. I’ve never loved Sandro as more than a brother. I broke off the engagement.”
“Then why, Marisa? Hasn’t your father always given you everything you wanted?”
“No. He never gave me my freedom.”
“You’re an Italian. Italian women don’t have freedom.”
She shook her head, knowing they wouldn’t get far if they argued. “Luigi, if you’ll just help--”
“Help? What kind of help do you possibly expect from me?”
Marisa didn’t answer. In her mind, there was no way Luigi could help except by staying out of the way. She looked to Dave.
“You can testify against Carlo when we bring him in,” Dave spoke up.
“You want me to be a rat? Are you outta your mind?”
Marisa pleaded, because if Luigi agreed to help, at least he’d be out of the way so she and Sandro could go through with their plan. “Gigi, caro, if you ever loved me--”
“You’re an ungrateful bitch. I may have loved you, but I realize my mistake now.”
His anger only hardened her resolve. She and Sandro were doing what was necessary. Dave’s way would not work at all, but he would never believe it. He still naively believed in the justice system. When true justice only existed for those who took a stand.
“If you don’t help,” Dave said, anger outlining every feature as he moved closer, “then I’ll have to take you in.”
Marisa wondered at the anger on Dave’s face. Was it because Luigi insulted her?
“What’s the charge? Running into a heavy object wielded by a traitorous bitch? I don’t think it’ll stick,” Luigi taunted. “As a matter of fact, I’m the one who should be pressing charges. I could have your badge, Fed.”
Marisa wanted to hit him again.
Dave nearly did. He twisted Luigi’s shirt with one hand and had the other pulled back in a fist before he stopped himself. “Actually the charge would be attempting to shoot a federal officer. You’re on your way to jail, buddy.”
He released Luigi and stepped away. “So until my men get here to pick you up, enjoy being tied to a dining room chair.” Dave made himself comfortable on the sofa, stretching his long legs across the coffee table. “Join me, Marisa?”
“Can I have a drink?” Luigi said. “Maybe some pain killer for my head?”
“Certainly,” she answered.
“I’ll get it,” Dave said, moving to get up.
Marisa had a flash of inspiration. “No, stay there. I’ll get it. I have some in my medicine cabinet.” In the bathroom, she took the pain killer and another, smaller vial from the shelf. Concealing the smaller vial, she went to the kitchen for a glass.
Once she filled the glass with water, keeping her back to Luigi and Dave, she made a show of opening the bottle, while in reality, she was counting off drops from the vial into the water.
Shoving the sleeping drops out of the way behind a crockery of cooking utensils, she took two pills and the water to Luigi. She realized with his hands cuffed behind him, he couldn’t take the medicine himself.
“Open,” she told him. “You want one at a time or both?”
“Both.”
She placed the pills in his mouth then held the water to his lips. He nodded his head when he’d had enough.
“Damn, those taste like shit.”
“Yes, they do,
don’t they?” she calmly agreed, then sat the glass back on the counter. “I’ll gather all my things now,” she told Dave and disappeared into her bedroom.
* * *
“Hello, Markie. Guess today is your lucky day,” Steve, the big Texan on the task force, was hard to miss as he walked up beside the parked mobster car. He opened the door.
“Hey, what’re you doin’? Can’t a guy sit in his car without being hassled?”
“Not in this neighborhood, partner.”
The guy in the passenger seat next to Markie went for his gun but his door suddenly flung open and he found a gun pressed to the back of his skull. “You don’t want to do that,” Tony told him.
Steve sent Tony an appreciative look, then turned back to Markie. “You two need to come with us.”
“What for?” Markie asked.
Tony reached into the glove compartment and rummaged around. “Oh, maybe for these parking violations you haven’t paid.”
“You two ain’t cops. You can’t hassle me about no parking violations.”
“But we can give you a ride to the police station. I’m sure they’d be very appreciative.” Steve reached in and pulled Markie from behind the wheel, while Tony pulled his guy out of the car on the passenger side.
Quickly and efficiently, the two FBI men disarmed the two mobsters.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You got a permit for these?”
“Sure I do.”
“Good, I think the police are going to want to see it.” Steve took Markie’s arm and led him toward the gray government-issued sedan.
* * *
Nicola needed some fresh air. The car reeked of cigarette smoke. They’d been sitting in the confined vehicle, doing nothing more than watching the garage exit of Marisa’s building and puffing one cigarette after another. Now, Nicola’s head was hurting.
“I’ll be back, man,” he told his companion.
“Where you going?”
“Just up for some fresh air. Honk if you see anything, I’ll come back down.” Nicola opened his door and climbed out. His eye caught a furtive movement between two cars behind them. It was there, then it disappeared. He peered hard between the cars.
