Body of Trust: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 14
“I’m trying to protect you. I never meant for you to be dragged into this.”
I start to cry. “I know what it’s about. The Lugazzis want me to do something for them, and hurting you is them letting me know they’ll make good on their threats.”
“What did they do to you?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you, Dad. I just need you to know that I have it taken care of.”
“How could you? These men are vicious. You saw what they did to Villa Russo. You need to talk to Frankie—”
“No. If they were willing to almost kill you, then they’re capable of so much more.”
One of his machines goes off. His heart rate is spiking, and I curse myself for upsetting him when he should be healing. A nurse comes barreling in, quickly turning the beeping sound off and then checking my father’s vitals.
“I’m sorry. You have to go. Mr. Sorrentino needs to rest,” she says, but my father waves her off.
“Two more minutes. I need to speak to my daughter for a moment more.”
The nurse purses her lips as she looks at us disapprovingly. “Two minutes.”
She leaves, and Dad grimaces, pushing away pain that must be coming from his wound. As I move closer to him, to help him, he shakes his head, not wanting me to tend to him.
“I’m okay. Please, relax. Now, you have to listen to me. We have a rat among us.”
At the term rat, there’s a deafening sound in my ears. I look away, hoping not to give away just how close I am to that mole. Then again, if he knew what Jesse had told me about my family, my father would be livid at me for believing it from a stranger, even if it is true.
Jesse is an informant, but he’s not the only one. The FBI is tainted, as was our family by Rocco. Disloyalty is everywhere. I’ve seen it firsthand when I was taken by a man I trusted.
“I know,” I say.
His eyes look up in concern.
“Rocco tried to force me in his car one night. I fought him off and got away, but I know if he’d succeeded, his intentions were malicious.”
My father hisses. “Where was this?”
“Club Elektra in Brooklyn. He pulled me out the back door and tried to get me into his car, the same one he’d been following me in for months. You’re right. There are men playing two sides, and Rocco is one of them.”
“I knew it. That son of a bitch. Are you okay?”
“I was shaken up, but unharmed. I was able to get away. Last I saw him, he was in the alleyway behind the club.”
He nods as he takes in the details. “Have you told anyone?”
I smile at the fact that he doesn’t question me on the facts. He just believes me. “I tried to tell Mom, but she didn’t want to hear it. Especially since Rocco was found dead the next day.”
“Your mom would never believe that. Not about Rocco. She liked him too much. I did too, but it doesn’t surprise me. Now, listen carefully. You keep this to yourself for now. If you trust anyone, trust Enzo.” There’s a loud grunt from his throat as he shifts his torso. He curses, and a tear rolls down his eye.
“You need to rest,” I tell him as I help him settle back into a comfortable position. “Are you ready for Mom and Gia to come in? You know Mom won’t care what the nurse says. She’ll be back here in seconds.”
“I don’t know if there’s enough morphine in this hospital for me to handle those two.”
I laugh and then kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be back to talk more. There are many things we need to discuss.”
He grabs my hand again. “I love you, Amelia. And remember, trust Enzo. He’s good.”
“I will. I love you too, Daddy.” I don’t hesitate even though I’m still angry and we haven’t spoken about the crimes I know he’s being investigated for. Regardless, he’s my father.
We say our good-byes, and I head back toward the waiting room. As we walk down the hallway, I realize I never asked my father who did this to him, why, or where he’d been. I have so many questions for him, but they’ll have to wait until we’re alone again.
With Mom and Gia busy at Dad’s side, I slip out of the hospital and walk four blocks to the building where Jesse said we should meet. I look at the street signs to confirm I’m in the right place.
It’s a busy area with shops and buildings all around. People are leaving work for the day, rushing to catch the train or bus, many walking to their cars.
I walk into the café where he told me to wait and take a seat by the window, so I can have a clear vantage point of the corner. A woman asks if I’d like anything. I order a decaf cappuccino to go because it’s rude to use an establishment without purchasing something.
My main distraction is to scroll through my phone, but I’m afraid I’ll miss him if he passes by. So, I stay on alert.
The cappuccino arrives, and I thank the waitress. The warmth of the liquid soothes me. Maybe if I sit in this little café for eternity, all the bad on the outside will dissipate. Looking out the window, I see someone across the street who looks familiar. The baseball cap that Jesse wore on the bus is on the head of a man with his build. I look further. He’s wearing a flannel, which is the opposite of anything Jesse would wear. Yet he’s flicking his fingers in the way he does when he’s nervous.
He’s talking to a man I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing a jogging suit, and he has a dog on a leash.
Something about the man is unsettling. He has on a gold chain and thick black sunglasses. He, too, is wearing a hat to cover his eyes.
My internal defense system goes into gear. My imagination runs wild with ideas of who it could be.
Maybe Jesse was never an undercover agent.
Maybe he’s been working for the Lugazzis the whole time—or worse, an even more vicious enemy.
For a girl who put blinders on to the reality that surrounded her, I’m now so far saturated in it that I can’t stop picturing the worst.
Lying is a hard limit.
Then again, maybe he’s undercover right now, talking to someone as Jesse Grant. In that case, I can’t be seen. Not here. Not anywhere near him.
I leave cash on the table and run out the café door.
I hail a cab and hop in. I don’t have a plan, but as I close the door, I imagine hearing him call my name.
Chapter Fourteen
The Metropolitan Museum of Art is a place I’ve always enjoyed. When I was a girl, my father brought me here when I had to research a painting for a class project. It was a rare day, where I had his attention all to myself. Mom was walking Gia to a birthday party, and I remember being surprised that my dad wanted to go to the museum. He showed up in a full suit even though it was a Saturday. That’s my dad. Always dressed to the nines, even when he came to one of my softball games.
He walked me through the museum, which takes an entire day. He really loved the European sculptures and decorative arts exhibit. The Italian sculptures make you feel like you’re traveling back in time.
While I enjoy the artwork in the museum, I have a soft spot for medieval art and the Arms and Armor exhibit. To be transported to a time where your honor was your ultimate feature bewitches me.
I’m looking at the suits of conquest and defense in the Armor room when a worker comes over to tell me the museum will be closing in thirty minutes. I’ve been here for a while. The time passed quickly.
I take one more walk around the room before I have to leave.
A heavy sigh from the other side of the room catches my attention. I peer behind one of the iron horses. I shouldn’t be surprised to see who it is.
“Did you ping my phone?”
“Trust me, I thought about it.” He’s not amused. “Why did you run off like that?”
I start to speak but decide I want answers first. “Answer my question.”
He blanches, seemingly baffled by my attitude. “You like art. You told me that you sometimes go to the museum by yourself. It’s relaxing.”
“You remembered that?”
“Those are some damn good odds.”
As he looks down, I can see the frown of worry on his brow. “Amelia, you can’t run off like that. I can’t even fucking call you.”
“That was the point.” I feel guilty for causing him worry, and yet I can’t shake this feeling.
He looks around the room with a wide-eyed expression to see if anyone is here. As he closes the space between us, he grabs my hand and then pulls me to the back of the room, behind one of the knights.
When he’s certain we’re out of eye- and earshot, he whisper-yells, “I can’t protect you if you’re running away.”
“I just … I got scared, okay? You have to understand how unsettling this is.” I shift my feet and wipe my brow, looking around the small space as I try to figure out my feelings. “I saw you talking to that man. I’ve never seen him before. I don’t know if he’s a Lugazzi, an informant, or an agent.”
“He’s an agent,” Jesse answers evenly.
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
Jesse lifts a fist and shakes it in the air as his face scrunches in annoyance. This lack of control must be difficult for him, not having any way to explain himself because he can’t introduce me to anyone from his world.
“He’s one of three people who knows who I am. He followed me to the city. I can’t believe you saw us talking. I told him I needed to stay close in case you arrived. I knew I shouldn’t have been so careless.”
“That man in the jogging suit is your boss?”
“Yes. He was trying to stay in disguise.”
I fold my arms and back away. “I need more. For the first time, I’m going to ask you for more. You know I want to trust you, Jesse. And I do, but my heart is so wary these days, and I’m frightened. Please, give me something real to believe in.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I’m puzzled, to say the least.
“He assumed you’d ask.”
Jesse takes my hand and walks us through the Arms and Armor exhibit, past medieval art, and toward the entrance to leave. Museum workers remind us of closing time nearing, and we nod as if we’re aware and about to leave. When they walk away, we turn and enter the Thomas J. Watson Library.
My feet move quickly as I try to keep up with his long strides as he walks us through the open room, down a hallway, and into an office. He shuts the door behind us, and that’s when I notice a tall, thin man standing by the window.
I go to turn, but Jesse holds me and looks reassuringly into my distrusting eyes. “Amelia, this is Shane Salinger, director of criminal investigations at the FBI.”
The gentleman stands tall and extends a hand. I’m hesitant to shake it, which makes him lift his mouth to the side. He takes out a pair of sunglasses—the same pair I saw on the man earlier—and slides them on his nose. He’s not wearing the awful jogging suit or hat. Even if he were, I need to stop believing everyone at face value.
“Better?” he asks with a raspy voice.
I narrow my eyes. “A little.”
His chin rises, and he accepts my need for actual proof that he is who he says he is. He places a hand inside the breast pocket of his jacket and produces a thick black wallet. He flips it open and hands it to me.
I take it and examine the contents. A bright, gold shield is on the bottom with a signature card next to it. On top are the bold letters FBI on what appears to be an authentic license with Shane Salinger’s photo next to it.
I hand it back to him. “Okay, I believe you’re Jesse’s boss. What was so important that you needed to meet with him today?”
Salinger puts the wallet away. “First of all, how is your father?”
“He’s good.” I clear my throat. “The recovery won’t be easy. He thinks the bullet was a warning shot.”
He doesn’t seem surprised by this information. “We’ve been investigating Frank Evangelista and his cohorts for quite some time. By now, you understand that your father is the second in command of the Evangelista crime family. Their business dealings have crossed state lines into Connecticut and New Jersey, which is what made it a federal investigation. What we’ve learned over the past year has taken us beyond our original scope.”
I turn to Jesse, who gives a shallow nod, letting me know what Salinger is saying is good.
“Jesse has grown close to Frank, performing small-scale errands for him. One of those was a message to tell the Lugazzi family that they were pulling out of a deal to transport four hundred million dollars in cocaine. The clans of the Calabrian Mafia were teaming up with the Lugazzi Mafia family in New York to move drugs from South America to Calabria. Those drugs were now to be imported by ships carrying freight disguised as luxury handbags. When your father and Frank Evangelista pulled out on their part of the deal, it went south and we are now in possession of the drugs. We believe Carlo Lugazzi, in return for this betrayal, wants to make good on a plan that had been hatched years ago by all involved—to rig the New York Lottery.”
I grip Jesse’s arm. Salinger notices. I drop my hand and get Salinger’s attention. “My father was in on this?”
“It was something dreamed up a long time ago by your father actually. Word has it, they planned it over a night of heavy drinking in Saratoga while at the races. Three weeks ago, Lugazzi arranged a meeting between himself, Raphael Sorrentino, and Frank Evangelista telling them he wants to go through with the plan as retribution. He arranged for DeLuca’s company to win the auditing contract and the wheels were in motion. This didn’t sit well with your father. He and Angelo DeLuca go back a long time, as you know. Plus, your father has done everything to keep you out of harm’s way.”
“So, the bloodshed we saw at Villa Russo—”
“Their attack was not to kill, but to frighten, and that’s what happened. No one but one of their own died that night. A member of their clan was instructed to kidnap you, but Davenport killed him first,” he explains. “Rocco was a Lugazzi informant on the inside. When the war between the families began, he was assigned to track you. DeLuca hired you at the behest of your father, but he chose you for the audit team on purpose, so you would be the one to rig the drawing.”
“Is DeLuca a Lugazzi?” I cringe when I ask.
“He’s nothing but a man who found himself on the wrong side of a bad dispute. However, he has a sordid past that Carlo is willing to exploit, so if all doesn’t go as planned, his neck is on the line.”
I run my hand along my head as I think of how excited my boss was to have his company’s name being said on television before the drawings. He was thrilled, yet it was really all part of a nightmare.
Salinger squares his shoulders and looks down as he explains, “The shooting at the restaurant, the altercation with Rocco at the club, and this recent incident with your father are all to scare you into doing what they say. Their hope was to take you, torture you, and force you to follow the plan as directed.”
“They could have kidnapped me in my car. There was a man with a gun and insane instructions—”
“They have you exactly where they want you now. You are frightened for your life, aren’t you? You fear for what will happen to your parents…your sister?”
I tremble at the thought. “Why not make DeLuca do it? Why go through the trouble of selecting me?”
“Our best guess is that if it goes wrong, it’s easy to pin the crime on the daughter of a member of the mob.”
I turn to Jesse, who raises his shoulders and brows, because he said the same thing to me not too long ago.
For the second time today, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Heaving—that’s what I’m doing. Breathing in erratic pants as I try to stay calm. I can’t. A chill runs up my spine, and my head begins to throb.
; Jesse steps behind me and wraps his arms around my chest, pushing my back tight against him. His inhale is deep, followed by a slow exhale. Mine are sharp and shallow, yet the longer he does this, the more I find my body meeting his breathing rhythm, finding my stability.
“There you go. Just like that,” Jesse says into my ear. “You got this, Amelia. Just breathe. Salinger and I have your back.”
His words are soothing in my ear as he wills me out of my anxiety attack and into the here and now.
Once steady, I stand up straighter and wipe under my eyes. Salinger’s eyes narrow at the sight of Jesse’s hand on me, forcing Jesse to step away and resume his spot from feet away.
“Okay, so what’s the plan? How are you going to help my family?” I ask.
“You’re going to do what they say,” Salinger states, and I yelp.
“You want me to actually go through with rigging a multimillion-dollar lottery?”
“Captain, with all due respect, it’s a plan destined to fail,” Jesse disagrees with his boss.
Salinger looks at his watch. “We only have a minute until they close the doors. The quick answer is yes. We can’t pin them on a crime that hasn’t been committed. Plus, no money has exchanged hands, and we don’t have anyone on tape, threatening you to do it. We need you to follow through. You’ll have surveillance. The Lugazzis won’t let you go in without one more word of caution. That’s what we need on tape. Let us handle this on our end. In the meantime, keep your head on a swivel and stay calm.”
“Easier said than done,” I state sarcastically.
Salinger walks toward us, and Jesse and I part as he opens the door. He leaves and turns to the right, where there’s a stairwell.
“What’s the plan?” I ask Jesse urgently.
“First, we get you home. My home.”
Chapter Fifteen
We get back to Jesse’s house. It’s been a long day, one I don’t ever want to repeat. Clearly, neither does he.