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  Good to know. When she got back home, she’d start checking into Frankie’s current and former girlfriends to see what she could turn over. It might be easier to press this woman than Alfie to get valid information regarding the supposed hit that had been put out on a high-ranking DEA agent. No point in calling Navarro. He would blow her off, telling her it wasn’t enough to go on. As soon as she left Alfie’s, she’d notify Victor instead and let him alert the Drug Enforcement Agency if he thought the intel was legit.

  Her host returned to the dining room, clapping his hands together. “Where were we? Do I need to reheat anything?”

  Olivia downed the rest of her wine, and set the glass back on the table. “Thanks for dinner. I’ve got to go.”

  Offended, Alfie put his hands on his waist. “Are you kidding me? We haven’t even talked about the good stuff yet.”

  “Good stuff? Like what? You won’t even be straight with me about this DEA hit. You really think I’m going to stick around and talk about getting you a deal with the Justice Department for taking down Gino DeStefano? I’m sick of playing games with you, Alfie.”

  “You promised me a deal.”

  “And yet, you still haven’t given me anything I can take to the JD. My boss is breathing down my neck, and the bigwigs at the Justice Department are getting antsy too. Either give me something of value, or we’re done. No more dinners, no more wine, no more bullshit.”

  He gave her a cold stare that lasted for a long, uncomfortable minute. “I have recordings, accounting records, specific information on certain targets, and some other stuff, but I’m not handing any of it over until I hear what the deal is. I have to protect myself and my daughter. They want me to testify? I’m fine with that, but I need some guarantees Mary Margaret will be safe.”

  Or the same thing might happen to her that had happened to Olivia’s brother—she’d get caught in the crossfire. Gino DeStefano was not one to go down without a fight, and if Alfie testified against him, the first target for his revenge would be the little girl.

  They were at an impasse. She couldn’t give him any guarantee until he handed over the information, and he wouldn’t until he had the guarantee.

  She headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She left and focused on clearing her head as she walked to her car. She drove down the street and around the block, coming back to park in a dark area under a tree where she could watch Alfie’s house. Her stomach growled as she sat there, and she wished she’d snagged a piece of garlic bread for the road. While she waited, she sent a text to Victor, and a second to her contact in DC. Then she settled down in the seat to watch.

  As anticipated, Alfie pulled out of the garage forty minutes later and headed for the freeway. Olivia put the car in drive and followed.

  8

  This bitch might be more trouble than she’s worth.

  The man leaned against the wall of the nightclub, deep bass music filtering through the back door and blacked out windows. The spring night was heavy with the threat of rain, and he itched to get this deal over with before it started to downpour.

  Not surprisingly, the woman he was meeting was late. He made sure to clear the alley of a few vagrants as well as a couple who had slipped outside to bang each other. They were so high, they wouldn’t remember him come morning, but he kept his baseball cap and sunglasses on anyway.

  He heard the click of heels as the woman came running toward him. “I got here as fast as I could. Traffic was a bitch.”

  Traffic had been thick for him too, and he’d had farther to drive, yet he’d still made it in plenty of time. “What’s your plan to get close to our guy?”

  She had the hood of a jacket up over her head, her facial features tight under the yellowy alley light, her eyes jumping around. Typical junkie. “What do you mean?”

  God, she wasn’t that much of an airhead, was she? “Don’t play dumb. You blew it today. What. Is. Your. Plan?”

  “I, uh…” Another darting glance down to the end of the alleyway where she’d emerged from. “I don’t know what you want me to do. He has a new girlfriend.”

  “You know, I kind of thought that training you went through, and all those movies you acted in, would’ve taught you something about seducing a man. Men cheat on their girlfriends all the time, in case that’s news. You know what he likes. Use it to get to him.”

  He saw her throat work as she swallowed, her eyes now scanning his midsection, searching for his hands, probably. She’d contacted him before she even left rehab, wanting to line up drug deliveries. He didn’t need her money, and her fame brought a few challenges, like dodging the eyes always on her. Normally, he stayed far away from face-to-face deals, using random carriers for the dirty work, but with her, he realized she also offered the opportunity to find another way to his mark. If Fiorelli didn’t work out in his quest to bring down Frankie B and Gino, the beautiful actress needing her fix in front of him could help him take out Victor Dupé.

  She shifted from one high-heeled foot to the other. “Please, I need those drugs.”

  He brought the bag of cocaine from his pocket and dangled it between them. “You did what I told you to earlier, so you’re going to get this, but I expect you to try again, and this time, I want more effective output. I want you to get that Fed back in your bed, make him vulnerable, understand? Wrap him around your goddamn little finger.”

  Her lips pursed into a pout. “How? He broke up with me because I can’t be the woman he needs.”

  Jesus, did he have to do everything for her? “He’s a hero, right? So play up to that. Tell him someone is watching you, following you around. Use those acting chops and pretend you’re scared.”

  “People follow me around all the time. I’m famous. He knows I have bodyguards.”

  “Tell him it’s not the paparazzi. Make out like it’s some crazy, homicidal fan. A sneaky fan. No one believes you, but you know he’s out there. He shows up everywhere you go. Pretend it’s me, and I’m watching your every move. That should give you some motivation.”

  “But the girlfriend—” she whined.

  “The new girlfriend is not a roadblock. Don’t worry about her. You focus on your job and let me handle the rest. Otherwise, no more rewards.”

  She reached out to snatch the bag, and he raised it out of her reach. “And if you don’t do what I tell you to,”—he withdrew the gun from his waistband and showed it to her—“It’s not the lack of drugs that will kill you, capisce?”

  The gun didn’t even seem to faze her. Once again, she reached for the baggie. This time he let her have it, but he smacked her arm with the gun for good measure. “You know what I do for living, right?”

  She tucked it away, her eyes wary. “You sell drugs, duh.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her close, jamming the butt of the gun under her chin and making her cry out. “I kill people, doll, and I’m damn good at it. You don’t want to piss me off.”

  He shoved her away and she twisted an ankle, unable to stay balanced on the ridiculous heels. Pushing off the wall, she gained her balance once more and took off limping down the alley, throwing a hateful glance over her shoulder at him.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he yelled after her, smiling to himself. “And you damn well better take my call.”

  He hung around a few more minutes, waiting to be sure she was gone, and no one would see him following her out. A soft drizzle began to fall. The night was still young, and while it had not gone the way he’d expected, he had a good feeling about things. He was going to take over the West Coast Fifty-seven Gang, one way or the other. And then he’d change the name.

  To complete the picture, all he had to do was convince Olivia Fiorelli to join him as his partner.

  Witnesses from the park shooting could not confirm the Suarez gang member had been around, although one mother who’d been recording her twin daughters getting ready for the Easter egg hunt caught the car Cooper had seen in a couple frames. The SCVC Taskforce
computer guru, Bobby Dyer, had been able to extract a photo showing the backend of the car but they only had a partial plate. At the safe house, Ronni worked with the DMV to track down the owner.

  Also at the safe house with Victor, Roman had put his team on searching for Suarez gang members with bomb-making skills and/or past offenses involving explosives. So far, they had four possible perps. None were strong leads, and they were scattered among different localities up-and-down the coast—San Francisco, Los Angeles, Sacramento, and Bakersfield. Since they had nothing to connect them directly to the San Diego bombing, they’d have to pull strings in order to get the local law enforcement agencies to bring them in for questioning.

  Good thing both Roman and Victor had pull. They were already working on the necessary red tape to allow the members of Roman’s DTT team to follow through.

  Thomas was working on the Suarez members Agent Marin had given him before he was killed. Because both were in the San Diego area, and local PD was friendly with the SCVC Taskforce, having worked with them on many cases before, so they were much more cooperative about bringing the men in. First, however, SDPD had to track them down.

  While they waited, Victor and Thomas dug into the cases Cooper thought might be relevant. There were several that had peripheral connections to the Kings, but then at least sixty percent of the drug running in Southern California had some link back to the gang. Victor started putting together a list of names to crosscheck against the Fifty-seven Gang and Gino DeStefano.

  The Italian mafia was heavily concentrated out East. The five most notable families operated in the upper East Coast and several had crews in other areas, especially southern Florida. There were a few more scattered throughout different states in the Midwest and South. In the West, there were fewer still. Las Vegas was open territory for all of the crime families, but outside of there, the only one that had not gone defunct worked Los Angeles. A few others had tried to infiltrate areas along the California coast, but none had gotten a toehold that could survive. Now, Gino DeStefano, with his Chicago ties, was attempting to give the Los Angeles mobsters some competition, and it seemed like he might just pull it off, especially if he and Molina could remove the Suarez Kings but keep their infrastructures in place.

  Needing to give his eyes a break, Victor rose from the kitchen table and went to the refrigerator for an energy drink. He’d been staring at a computer screen for hours, checking databases, talking to the lead detectives in each of the cases, checking in on Cooper and Celina, and trying to keep his mind off where he really wanted to be—back home with Liv and Taz. Even a few hours with them would be nice to clear his head and get some sleep.

  As if he’d conjured her, his phone buzzed with a text. It was nearing midnight, but he wasn’t surprised Liv was still up and working.

  Trying to track down an old girlfriend of Frankie Molina’s. Might have info about the DEA agent hit. I have her name and address. Want to go with me tomorrow to check her out?

  He quickly typed back, yes.

  After her call earlier, he’d alerted the head of the DEA, in case Cooper had not been the target Olivia’s mafia insider told her about. Victor’s gut told him there was something off about the whole situation, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He needed more details about Olivia’s informant—he was worried the guy was leading her on in an attempt to further his own causes. Not that she wouldn’t see it, but it happened to the best of agents. Victor wanted to be sure the informant was legit.

  Tracking down the ex-girlfriend of Frankie Molina might not be the best use of his time, but any reason to see Liv was a good one, especially since he wanted more details about this informant she was protecting.

  Roman stood and stretched, yawning. He rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. “I’m heading home for a shower and a few hours of sleep. I’ll pick this up again in the morning and be in touch.”

  He said goodbye to Thomas and Ronni, both looking as tired as Victor felt. There wasn’t much they could do now overnight, so maybe he should leave too.

  “Same for me, guys,” Victor said. “I have an unusual lead to check out with Olivia in the morning. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth looking into. I’ll contact you after I’m done there. If anything comes up in the meantime, call me.”

  Thomas walked him and Roman to the door. “No one else has had an attempt on their life?” he asked Victor. “None of the agents on your other taskforces in LA, correct?”

  “None, and let’s hope it stays that way.”

  “Then it has to be tied to us.” He shook his head wearily. “I don’t get it. We may have caused the Suarez Kings a few problems along the way, but nothing that warrants this type of strike, and we’ve never put the screws to the Fifty-seven Gang.”

  Victor could see something brewing behind Thomas’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “That it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with any of these cases we keep going over. It’s not revenge. It’s something else.”

  Thomas was smart and his sixth sense when it came to criminals was excellent. “I agree. If they’re going after a high-level DEA agent out of revenge or to get him out of the way, there are others much more detrimental to their gang than Cooper has been. The Kings haven’t been the direct focus of any of our investigations, only outliers when we’ve taken out certain supply channels or Mexican cartels. They may have suffered a temporary interference on occasion, but we’ve never been able to shut them down.”

  “This connection with the mafia seems weak to me,” Thomas said.

  Roman bobbed his head in agreement. “It seems forced, doesn’t it? If the Kings and the mob are clashing over who’s going to run this territory, it seems like they’d be taking each other out, not focusing time and energy on you guys.”

  “Could there be another player?” Victor asked.

  A long, tired sigh came from Roman. “Either that, or these DTOs are throwing up a diversion to keep us from the real issue.”

  DTOs—drug trafficking organizations—were constantly in flux, whether they were a Colombian based cartel or a mafia family. Those in power were constantly getting killed off by those trying to take over, even within their own organizations. While they were well-versed in deceiving law enforcement, they rarely had the resources to pull off elaborate sting operations to keep the justice system looking the other way. “Any idea what this real issue is?”

  “No, but I have the feeling we’re only seeing a small part of this picture. We need to think outside the box.”

  Victor had the same feeling, and hoped Roman’s new, temporary taskforce could help fill in the missing pieces. “All right, let’s get a fresh start in the morning.”

  Down the block in his car, Victor sat for moment debating his options. The drive to Olivia’s was a lot shorter than to his house. Plus, if he stayed at her place, he would be there in the morning for them to get an early start.

  He laughed at himself as he started the car. As if he would drive all the way home, even if it made more sense. But it was nice when logic and wisdom agreed with his libido. He texted her before he took off.

  Are you up for another houseguest?

  Her reply came seconds later. Thought you’d never ask. How soon can you be here?

  He gave her his ETA before heading for the freeway, smiling at the peace seeing her brought. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman and more. Someone he could share work and anything else with.

  Hell, she even loves my dog.

  If things continued the way they were, he could finally settle down and build the family he’d always wanted. As he drove through the night, his mind spun out what his next move would be. He had the house, he had the dog. All he needed was a fantastic woman to share his life with.

  First, he had to solve this case. Second he had to get his house in better shape. But after all that was done, he was going to ask Liv to move in with him.

  The thought of that scared and thrilled him at the same time. All thes
e years, all the searching for someone who could accept him the way he was, he’d finally found her.

  And one thing was for certain, he wasn’t letting her get away.

  9

  The next morning, Olivia left Victor sleeping and took Taz for a run. She normally did three miles a day when she could, and the dog seemed up for the exercise.

  Trailing Alfie the night before had yielded mixed results. He’d left his vehicle and gone into an alley where she couldn’t shadow him without revealing herself, so she’d waited to see if anyone followed him in. Eventually, she’d been rewarded with a woman in high heels making her way in and not emerging again for several minutes. Olivia had debated whether to sneak in as close as she could and see if she could eavesdrop, but although the daring move appealed to her, it was too risky. Instead, she waited patiently and followed the woman when she came out.

  Unfortunately, the woman had slipped into a nightclub a few blocks down and Olivia lost her by the time she parked and entered it. The woman had worn an expensive designer jacket with a hood. The hood had been up the whole time, and the single picture she’d been able to take showed a partial of her face.

  Frustration ate at her as she pounded the sidewalk. The woman was tall and thin, but so was half of LA, hundreds of actresses and models starving themselves to death and using dozens of methods to stay skeletal.

  She couldn’t rule out either as the woman’s profession. The expensive clothes suggested a certain level of wealth. She only hoped she could put the partial face she had through facial recognition and get a hit. Or maybe when she visited Marquita Lomas, she would recognize the designer shoes.