by Misty Evans
The smile grew. “I’m surrounded by a lot of testosterone at the ranch. You should come out sometime. Do you like to ride?”
“Horses? Never been on one, but they look…nice.” She preferred dogs over just about anything, and found herself automatically reaching to pet Taz. “Does Jett like them?”
“Loves them. Mitch will have him riding before he’s walking, I’m afraid.”
Rarely did Olivia feel comfortable chatting with another woman about normal things like family, but Emma had a way of putting even a workaholic outsider like Olivia at ease. “A couple of daredevils, huh?”
She chuckled and took the seat next to Olivia. “I’m glad you and Victor are getting along so well. Thank you for being here for him with this. He’s not one to ask for support, if you know what I mean. Are you two…?”
Seeing each other? The invisible words hung in the air. Are we actually a couple? Sure felt like it, even though they’d only really shared a couple of intense lovemaking sessions and lots of texts and phone calls. It almost felt like being in high school instead of a mature relationship. “We’re taking it slow.”
What a lie. She wasn’t even sure what “it” was, but they’d jumped into a physical relationship so fast, her head still spun. That was not how she took it ‘slow.’
But then again, she hadn’t had a real relationship since…
Damn. She couldn’t even remember the guy’s name it had been so long. Dean? Dan? No wonder she was starved for attention and super-hot sex with a good-looking, powerful man. Her library card was way past due on getting stamped.
Emma smiled again, this one more placid, psychologist-like. “Nothing wrong with slow. I would expect nothing else from Victor. He’s not one to rush into a relationship. He’s a good man, Olivia. He deserves a strong, honest woman like you.”
And whoopsie, another lie. This one of omission, but a mistruth nonetheless. She was strong, yes, but she was not honest. She still hadn’t told Victor about her investigation into him for the Justice Department.
A man hustled past the door, coming back and peeking his head around the frame a second later. “Dr. Collins?”
Emma stood and brushed down her skirt. “Dr. Walsh? What are you doing here?”
He was tall and lean, the hint of a beard covering his jaws. He seemed to fill up the room as he entered, extending a hand to Emma. “I have a theory to run by the director.” He glanced at Olivia and offered his hand to her as well. “Roman Walsh, Director of the Southern California Domestic Terrorism Taskforce. You’re Olivia Fiorelli, correct?”
The DTT was under Homeland. Olivia rose to her feet and shook his hand, wondering where he recognized her from. Had he been at the Christmas party? “I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?”
A commotion sounded in the hallway. Victor appeared at the door. “They’re moving him to the cardiac floor. Since he’s awake but still in serious condition, that’s the best place to keep an eye on him.”
“That’s good news,” Olivia said.
Victor stepped aside as Cooper was wheeled by, Celina following. “Roman, good to see you,” he said. “You mentioned in your text earlier you had information I needed? We have time to catch up—the nurses say it will be half an hour or so before we can talk to Cooper again. Once they get him situated, the doctor wants to check him over.”
Roman glanced around, noting the waiting area was empty outside of the four of them. Still, he seemed to think it better if they had privacy. “Any chance they have a conference room available?”
“On the first floor,” Emma volunteered. “I’ll get someone to open it for us. That’ll give Cooper and Celina time to adjust to the new room before Victor questions him.”
She led the way, Roman on her heels. Olivia grabbed Victor’s hand before he could follow. “I should probably get going.”
He looked disappointed. “You sure? I could use your input on whatever Roman has found.”
Hearing that he wanted her in on the meeting caused a flush of heat to her chest. “Dr. Walsh might feel differently. I may not have clearance for whatever he’s going to talk about.”
“If you’re with me, he’ll grant you clearance. All I have to do is say the word.”
The warmth spread lower. “Do you know how sexy that is?”
“What?”
“The way you swing your power around like that.”
He chuckled and tugged her after him.
They caught up with the others at the elevator and rode down to the first floor, Taz bracing his feet at the drop and giving Olivia a worried look. Emma texted someone she knew and, by the time they arrived at the conference room, her friend had unlocked it and placed several bottled waters on the credenza for them.
Victor sat at the head of the table and Olivia took the chair to his right. Emma sat next to her and Roman paced the floor. Taz wedged between the table leg and Olivia’s chair, laying his head on one of her feet.
“Did Cooper see anyone?” the head of the DTT asked Victor.
“He did,” Victor answered. All eyes swung to him. “At least, he thinks he did. Everything happened fast, and his memory is blurry. We only spoke for a minute or two before the nurses kicked me out to move him, but what he told me is, he believes he saw a Suarez gang member as he and Celina walked to the park. The male suspect is approximately 5’7”, Hispanic, and clean shaven. He wore a red baseball hat cocked to the left over a purple bandana wrapped around his head. He sported a flame tattoo on one arm, and was wearing a leather vest with the gang symbol on the back. The guy walked past the park entrance, looked square at Cooper, and jumped into a rusted out, late 80s, Pontiac Grand Prix that pulled up to the curb. No license plate. The car circled the park once, then disappeared.”
Roman stopped pacing and pulled several papers out of his briefcase. “You like this kid for the shooter?”
Victor shrugged. “I do. He’s the best lead we’ve got and it jives with some of the intel we’ve received.”
Roman handed out papers to each of them and took a seat. “Preliminary report on the bomb that blew up Agent Mann’s car this morning. I put a rush on it.”
Like the others, Olivia scanned the chain of command, agency number, and the brief description of the scene. Explosive device specialists had examined what the crime scene technicians had recovered, which wasn’t much. It appeared to be an IED and had been sent to the FBI’s Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center to see if they could match it to anything in their database.
The homemade improvised explosive device was simple in its makeup and yet had caused the death of an agent. In Olivia’s mind, it made no difference how it was designed or what materials had been put into it—the result was the same.
“There weren’t any large enough remnants of the bomb to provide us with fingerprints,” Roman said, “but the bomber left us a different kind. The explosive was placed in a backpack we assume was tossed under the car. It appears it was triggered by the call from a cell phone.”
They all looked at him, waiting, anticipating. What kind of fingerprint was he talking about, and how did this help the case?
“Is this bomb similar to others you’ve investigated?” Victor asked.
“The bomb itself is pretty generic; it’s what it was carried in that gave us a clue.”
“The backpack,” Olivia said.
Roman nodded. “Several fibers and the zipper were recovered from the blast site. They happen to match those from another car bombing two months ago in Oceanside. Polly, my CSI expert, caught the similarities. She also did some cross-matching and discovered this particular brand of backpacks has been used by the Suarez Kings for running drugs across the border, and carrying their own shake and bake meth labs.”
‘Shake and bakes’ consisted of a two-liter bottle, cold pills, and a couple noxious chemicals. Drug users loved the simple method, but it was highly explosive, much like the more complicated meth labs.
“They’re recycling the drug back
packs for bombs?” Emma asked.
“The last one was used to take out Giada Russo.”
Olivia sucked in a breath. Giada was Frankie Molina’s little sister.
Taz lifted his head and came to sit beside her, nuzzling his nose against her arm. She petted him absentmindedly. “The Kings killed Giada? I thought her case was unsolved.”
“It was,” Roman said, “until now. The problem is we don’t have an individual to arrest. Like I said, no actual fingerprints, DNA, or witnesses. But I’ve forced the local detectives to reopen the Russo case and I’m trying to get some FBI involvement.”
Because the woman involved was a known criminal, like her brother, the cops weren’t all that eager to solve Giada’s murder.
Victor sat forward. “I’ll make sure the investigation becomes a top priority.”
Roman turned to Emma. “Giada Russo was the sister of high-ranking mob boss Frank Molina. The two of them worked like a team up-and-down the West Coast for several years under the guidance of Gino DeStefano until Giada married Tony Russo. The Russos stayed under the radar, supplying military grade weapons to various motorcycle gangs and survivalists. We’re not sure if the Kings were purposely trying to take her out, or simply send a message to her brother.”
Emma stacked her papers neatly. “What kind of message? Is Molina interfering with the cartel’s business?”
“That’s what we’re hearing through the grapevine.” Roman pointed at Olivia. “As I’m sure Deputy Marshal Fiorelli can explain in more detail, Gino DeStefano and his right-hand man, Frankie, want to stamp out the Suarez Kings and use their infrastructure for the same businesses—drugs, money-laundering, and human trafficking.”
“It’s easier than starting from scratch,” Olivia added, “which is what Gino and his made family have been trying to do for many years and failed. The Mexican gangs, motorcycle gangs, and other enterprising criminal syndicates have made it extremely difficult for the traditional Italian mafia bosses to take over. Giada probably broke completely with Frankie when she married Tony Russo and he continued supplying the motorcycle gangs and survivalists with guns.”
“Olivia, our own rock star agent here, has played a huge part in stopping them as well,” Victor said.
Olivia had challenged every guy she’d dated, although few, searching for her soulmate. She’d refused to settle, or maybe she’d simply been terrified of having a lasting relationship. Her father’s ghost hanging over her shoulder never helped either. Maybe that was why she constantly sabotaged herself and couldn’t even remember that last guy’s name. Although there’d been few men on her dance card, no one had measured up to her ideal.
Until now.
One of her biggest fears was not being special. Silly, but true. She was always trying to prove herself in her work, in her life. Hearing Victor’s compliment made her feel more than special.
But also a tad embarrassed. Did he mean it? Or was he saying it because…
Because he’s sleeping with me.
Taz laid at her feet again, shoving himself against her leg. Oh, she needed to get over herself already. Maybe in the end, it wasn’t the men in her life who’d never measured up —
Maybe it’s me.
Taz started snoring. All eyes were on her, and heat flushed her cheeks, her throat constricted. She once again reminded herself to stop overanalyzing everything and just go with it. “I do what I can.”
Roman’s phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad you’re here, Olivia. Everything we’ve uncovered so far points to the Suarez Kings being involved in both hits against Victor’s taskforce. If things are heating up between them and DeStefano’s Fifty-seven Gang, I want you on board. I already have a call into my boss at Homeland. I want to put together a special taskforce to investigate these crimes, and I want you on it.”
He didn’t wait for her response, standing and walking away as he answered his phone.
Olivia looked at Victor, then her watch. It was getting late and she had a two-hour drive, more if traffic was bad, to Carlsbad. And when wasn’t it between here and there?
He understood her code. “I know you have a meeting, but let’s talk afterwards, okay? I’ll get the details from Roman about this new taskforce and fill you in.”
They all stood, and Olivia mentally smiled at the thought of Navarro getting wind of this. “Of course. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
The dog jerked upright from his sleeping position and nearly tumbled over himself as Olivia shifted and pushed the chair in. She said her goodbyes to Emma and headed for the door behind Victor.
In the hallway, he tugged her close. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary.” But please do.
“I have time to kill before I can see Cooper again. I want to check your car.”
Ah. “Afraid there might be an errant backpack under it?”
He took her hand and led her and Taz outside. In the sunlight, he paused and took a deep breath. “I know you’re on alert and don’t need me hovering, but it’s a good excuse for me to spend a few more minutes with you, so don’t give me grief, okay?”
She grinned at him. “I might have seen something in the back. Maybe we should both climb in and check it out.”
He returned the grin, understanding her invitation. “It’s a big backseat. Might take fifteen minutes or so to investigate properly.”
God, this man. How was she going to keep him in her life? He made her laugh and feel incredibly good about herself. All of herself, from her obsession with work to her generous curves he couldn’t seem to get enough of.
I’ll tell him the truth as soon as I can, but not today. Handing him Taz’s leash, she dug out her car keys. “Fifteen minutes might not be quite long enough for what I have planned for you, but I’ll do my best.”
He slapped her playfully on the ass as she walked away, making her laugh out loud.
7
Victor stood at the hospital entrance watching Olivia drive off. He hadn’t been joking about checking for bombs but he’d never dreamt she’d invite him into the backseat. The last time he’d fooled around in a car was ages ago. High school.
Completely unprofessional. What is wrong with me? he asked himself for the umpteenth time.
The cool thing was, after their initial make-out session, they’d started talking and ended up doing nothing more than spooning in the backseat. Just holding each other.
It was…nice.
Better than nice.
Olivia brought him peace even when he was in the midst of chaos. Her presence calmed him. Rejuvenated him.
Still feeling the aftereffects, he didn’t hear Roman approach from behind.
“Sorry about the interruption,” Roman said. “Clearance just came down for a temporary taskforce to dig deeper into this situation. We’ve got forty-eight hours to come up with solid leads.”
It wasn’t much, but they’d worked with less. “Thank you. We have the information Thomas got from Agent Marin, and a possible connection between the Suarez Kings and the Fifty-seven Gang, or at least the California branch run by DeStefano and Molina. We also have the description of a member of the Kings that Cooper saw at the park, along with the car he left in. I have clothes and some other stuff to bring to Thomas and Ronni at the safe house. Why don’t you follow me and we’ll set up an office there to start digging and find where the connections lead?”
A large black limo pulled up to the curb as Victor spoke. A second later, the driver jumped out to open the door for the passenger in the backseat. As Victor saw the long legs emerging from the car, Roman’s answer turned into background noise.
Tracee Tyson loved the spotlight and called attention to herself anywhere, anytime, even when exiting a car. Her long dark hair had gentle waves in it, like she’d just come from the beach, but her makeup was perfect, and the short skirt and tank top she wore were clearly designer. Her 5’10” frame didn’t need a height boost from the thr
ee-inch heels on her feet, but they accentuated her toned calves perfectly.
“Is that…?” Roman’s voice drifted off, a common occurrence when Tracee appeared. People—especially men—suddenly became tongue-tied, her beauty and fame merging into a lethal cocktail that left them speechless.
With the tilt of her head, she smiled at Victor and those long, sexy legs of hers carried her right to him. “Vic, sweetheart.” Eye to eye with him, she air kissed his cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Tracee? What are you doing here?”
His famous ex-fiancée gave him a pouty look. “I heard about your friend and knew you’d be here. That’s the kind of person you are, and I wanted to lend my support. It’s awful what happened.” She ran a hand along his forehead, smoothing his brow. “How are you holding up?”
She was a damn good actress, and that had always been part of the problem when they were dating. He never knew when she was acting and when she wasn’t. At first, he’d believed everything she’d said. Later, when their relationship began to struggle under the weight of his job and her career, he became jaded enough he didn’t believe anything.
He hadn’t seen her in nearly three years, except on the covers of magazines and in movie trailers. Her light brown skin and gorgeous turquoise eyes were as youthful as ever. She was in her early thirties, but could still play the role of a twenty-something with ease.
She turned to Roman, sizing him up. “Hi, I’m Tracee, and you are?”
Roman seemed to snap out of his star-induced haze, shooting Victor an inquisitive look, but catching on quick. “A friend. I’ll leave you two to catch up. See you inside.”
Victor knew he wasn’t intentionally being rude by not engaging in small talk with Tracee, he simply didn’t want to waste time on it. The clock was ticking, and they all had work to do.
And Victor knew his ex had not made a special trip from LA to support him. “You could have called.”
