Power (The Santini Assassins #1)

11. The Dinner Party

11

THE DINNER PARTY

LUCIANO

T he following afternoon at four-thirty, Luciano opened his front door. Teddy walked in dressed in a tattered shirt, torn jeans, and his leather jacket. His worn satchel hung over his shoulder, his motorcycle helmet clutched in his gloved hand.

He shot his brother a smile. “I’m starving. I hope Chef has made a lot of food.”

“Appetizers now. We’ll work before dinner.”

The brothers entered the kitchen. “Yo, Chef, how’s it hangin’, baby?”

Chef Louis laughed. “I’m good, Teddy. How’s by you?”

“Can’t complain.” Teddy set the computer bag on the kitchen island, paused to check out the array of small plates Louis was prepping.

“I love you, Chef,” Teddy said. “I gotta get me a chef, like, for real.”

“I have several friends I can recommend,” Louis replied.

Luciano poured them each a glass of sparkling water.

Teddy guzzled his, refilled the glass.

Louis set a large plate in front of Teddy and an appetizer-sized plate in front of Luciano. Teddy set four sliders on his, along with a large portion of shoestring fries, two mozzarella sticks, and a handful of fried pickles. Silence while Teddy inhaled the food.

Luciano had eaten a late lunch, so he chose a slider, a Caprese skewer, and a sampling of the vegetable crudités with onion dip.

After Teddy had wolfed down half the plate, he leaned back and smiled. “I didn’t eat all day.”

“What time would you like dinner, sir?” Louis asked.

“Teddy, seven?” Luciano asked.

“That’ll work.”

When they finished eating, Luciano topped their glasses, and the brothers took off toward his home office. When Luciano moved in, he had the dark paneled walls replaced with white paint. A large piece of abstract art occupied most of one wall, several small prints hung behind his desk. The French doors faced the back of the property. Those were open. He’d screened in the patio, allowing the afternoon breeze to flow through.

At the conference table, Teddy pulled out his laptop, logged in while Luciano stared outside at the spacious backyard and the Olympic-sized swimming pool. The home had been his sanctuary, but lately, it felt more like a prison.

“Good news or bad news first?” Teddy asked.

Luciano smiled. Teddy always started his debriefings the same, and Luciano always responded in kind.

Luciano joined him at the table. “You decide.”

“I’ll start with the bad,” Teddy began. “I reached out to everyone I know. There’s chatter in the Haqazzii cell that The Bomb Maker’s back, but when I talked to a reliable source, he said he hadn’t heard anything.”

Luciano knew his way around the dark web, but Teddy was a master at knowing which chat groups were in-the-know, how to hunt for coded messages. He was an asset to Luciano and to his clandestine—and very illegal—organization.

Most of their hits were because Teddy had gotten the intel he needed and tracked the thug down.

“The good news—although it’s not good, but more like informative—” Teddy continued.

“Theodore,” Luciano said.

“What? I’m telling you what I found out.”

Teddy had a long-winded way of providing data.

“The ALPHA hit was definitely him, so as I see it, he either had surveillance on the house, and he got out in time?—”

“It was an ambush,” Luciano interrupted. “He staged blowup dolls in the basement and in the beds.”

“Gotcha.” Teddy started typing, then got busy reading, his eyes sliding back and forth at a rapid rate.

When Teddy was young, his teacher said he wasn’t smart enough to learn how to read. Between Luciano and Elsa, they spent a lot of time teaching him. And when he finally got it, he never stopped. Nowadays, Teddy read everything he could get his hands on.

“I’m watching the explosion,” Teddy said.

Teddy shouldn’t have access to ALPHA, but he did… and not because Luciano had given it to him.

When finished, Teddy growled. “That was brutal. What does he have against ALPHA?”

“No one knows,” Luciano explained. “They think he found out the organization existed and he wants to make a stand. Show them who’s boss.”

“Alpha the ALPHAs,” Teddy said.

“They think he might be an Op.”

Teddy got busy on his computer. “Yeah, so that doesn’t make sense. Why strike years ago, do nothing, then hit them again now?”

“They don’t know.” Luciano took a few swigs of the sparkling water. “If you have access, maybe he does too.”

“As far as I can see, I’m the only one outside the organization who’s in.” He spun the laptop around. “Check it out.”

Luciano skimmed the page. Most everyone who worked for ALPHA was logged into the system.

“They’re all working remote, which could make it easier for him to access the site. He logs in as an employee, cloaking his real IP address.”

Luciano pulled the map he’d taken from the terrorist in London, opened it, and set it on the table. “This is what I took from the Haqazzii terrorist.”

Teddy tapped each of the circled targets. “This is good. I can target my search better. Does the FBI know?”

“Only ALPHA.”

“I’ll ask around. Did the terrorists give you a time frame?”

Luciano smiled. “No, they weren’t very cooperative.”

“You didn’t beat it out of them?”

“That’s your specialty, not mine.”

“I’m meeting a contact in Turkey.” Teddy raked his hands through his long hair. “I’ll be going dark for a few days.”

“Is Gabriel going?”

“That’s the plan.”

Luciano shifted toward his brother. “What does your gut say, Teddy?”

Teddy slid his gaze to the laptop for a long moment. “I’d be surprised if The BM is in ALPHA.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s fitting, don’tcha think?

Luciano smiled. Leave it to Teddy to give The Bomb Maker that nickname. “It’s a good pun.”

“I’ll keep digging,” Teddy said. “I’m surprised no one’s bragging over this. It was a targeted hit, especially since the team was going to arrest him.”

“I’m working the case with someone,” Luciano explained. “Well, she’s working the case and I’m going to take him out.”

Teddy furrowed his brow. “Who?”

“Simone Redding.”

Teddy chuffed out a laugh. “The one who was watching you? Talk about irony.”

The conversation moved to other topics, but Luciano’s thoughts kept jumping back to Simone. He knew the power of anger and loss. It had driven him to become a killing machine. He would hate for that to happen to her.

SIMONE

Friday afternoon, Simone was in no condition to attend Peter Hirzog’s dinner party. Being festive and making conversation was the last thing she wanted to do.

She and Slash were stretching in the lower level of Slash’s home after going for a hard run. Training wasn’t just limited to target practice. If she was going after The Bomb Maker, she needed to be at the top of her game.

Carrera walked around the corner dressed in a T-shirt and shorts.

“You’re coming with me to one of Rebel’s trainings,” Slash said. “They’re fun.”

“My wife’s a beast,” Carrera said as he walked over to the weights.

“Can I get both your thoughts on something?” Simone asked.

“Go for it,” Carrera said.

“My old boss, Peter Hirzog, invited me to his house for a dinner party tonight,” Simone said. “I can’t go.”

“I wouldn’t cancel,” Carrera said.

“I want to curl up in a ball, not go to a dinner party,” Simone pushed back.

“Hirzog has the ear of the Director,” Carrera explained. “Might be good to find out what he knows.”

“But I’m in mourning.”

“Exactly,” Slash said. “He could be the perfect person to talk to. Did he know Frederica?”

“Yeah, we both worked for him.”

“We’re flying blind here,” Carrera said. “I’m in a position of power at the Bureau, but I don’t have the Director’s ear. Does Hirzog know you and Frederica stayed close friends?”

“No. I lost touch with him after I left.”

“Does he know you moved to ALPHA?” Slash asked.

“He thought I went undercover.” Simone started stretching her calf muscle. “And he asked me if I jumped to ALPHA.”

“If you can do it, go,” Slash said. “The more you know?—”

“The more you know,” Carrera said finishing her sentence.

They laughed.

An inside joke or couple speak.

Despite her sorrow, watching them interact brought her joy.

“Seriously,” Slash said. “If he asked you about ALPHA, maybe he’s willing to share things with you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Simone said.

As she stretched, she thought about how she’d play things if she went. “I’ll have to ask him if he knew Frederica died in a gas explosion?”

“Exactly,” Carrera replied. “Bait him. See if he’ll tells you anything.”

“How would he know something that ALPHA doesn’t?” Simone asked.

“Good question,” Carrera replied.

“How does he even know about ALPHA?” Slash asked.

“Another good question,” Carrera replied. “Maybe he’ll confide in you since you two were close.”

Elsa came downstairs. “I made a big pot of my homemade chicken soup.” Her smile crinkled her eyes. “For Simone.”

“Thank you, Elsa,” Simone replied, before eyeing Slash.

“Elsa, Simone has to go out—” Slash said.

“I’ll have a big bowl when I return,” Simone added. “I’m going to get ready. I don’t want to go, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

Whatever it takes, Fred. I will get to the truth.

At seven-fifteen that evening, Simone street parked at Peter Hirzog’s upscale estate in Chevy Chase. She collected the bottle of wine in a gift bag that Slash had given her and made her way toward the front door.

The crispness in the air reminded her that autumn had replaced the warm days of summer. She pulled her long, cable sweater close, climbed the front stairs, and rang the doorbell. She didn’t want to be there, so she’d see what she could learn, then bolt.

Peter answered the door. “You made it,” he said with a warm smile. “Come on in.”

“I almost canceled. It’s been a rough couple of days. I’m not sure if you heard?—”

He raised his eyebrows. “Heard?”

“Frederica Salgado died in a home gas explosion.” Her heart broke.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He enveloped her in a warm hug.

When she broke away, he asked if they’d stayed friends.

“We had.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “I lost touch with her when I left town. Is she still with the Bureau?”

“No.”

A middle-aged woman with shoulder-length hair and a friendly smile walked toward them. “You must be Simone. I’m Lucy, Peter’s wife.”

Simone offered her the gift bag. “Happy anniversary.”

“How thoughtful.” Lucy pulled out the bottle. “Oh, it’s a Santini Chianti. I’ll serve it with dinner.”

She glanced at Peter, but he didn’t seem fazed. Simone hadn’t checked the bottle Slash had given her. The last thing she wanted to do was tick him off.

“Come in and meet our guests,” Lucy said.

They made their way through the two-story foyer and into the spacious kitchen with dark cabinets and soft pendant lighting. The delightful aroma of spices filled the air. There were several people chatting in the kitchen, and Peter made introductions. Two from the Bureau whom Simone didn’t know, three neighbors, and two longtime friends of Lucy.

Jerod sauntered in, spotted her, and broke into a smile. “Hey, Red. It’s good to see you again.”

She forced a smile. “Hi, Jerod.”

I shouldn’t have come .

Being there made her head hurt. She wanted to feel the pain, the loss, the emptiness in her soul, not make small talk at some dinner party.

As if sensing her pain, Peter said, “Let’s move into the family room.”

Once there, Jerod said, “Being around you two feels like old times.”

Only it didn’t. Fred was dead, Simone was paired with an assassin to work the case, and The Bomb Maker was back.

“Jerod, do you remember Frederica Salgado?” Peter asked.

Pain sliced through her.

Jerod shook his head. “Name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Years back, she was a Special Agent on my team,” Peter said. “And Simone’s close friend. Unfortunately, she passed away in a home gas explosion.”

“Ohgod, that’s tragic,” Jerod said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Simone forced down the lump in her throat.

She couldn’t talk about Fred. If she did, she’d lose it. Glancing around, she saw Lucy alone in the kitchen.

“I’m going to see if Lucy needs some help,” she said.

“I should go,” Peter said.

“I got this.” Simone returned to the kitchen. “Lucy, can I help you?”

Lucy had just pulled a skillet of sautéed chicken breasts from the oven, her cheeks red from the blast of heat. “I would love some.”

“What can I do?”

Lucy handed her a water pitcher from the refrigerator. “The dining room table’s already set. The goblets are in there.”

Grateful to be of use, Simone filled the glasses.

When she returned to the kitchen, Lucy handed her a serving spoon. “Help me get the chicken onto the platter.”

As the women worked, Lucy said, “I don’t think Peter’s mentioned you, but he doesn’t bring his work home with him.” She smiled. “Correction. He does bring his work home with him. He’s a workaholic. But he doesn’t talk about his job.”

“I worked for him several years ago when I was a Special Agent. He was a great mentor.”

“I hear that a lot,” Lucy said. “His career means everything to him.”

Lucy called the guests in, they served themselves, then sat around the large oak table in the dining room. Before joining them, Lucy lowered dimmed the chandelier.

Peter raised his wine glass. “Happy anniversary to my Lucy. It’s been a busy, crazy, fun first year.” He glanced over at Jerod then back at his wife. “Love you.”

“I love you, Peter.” Lucy raised her glass to him across the table. Everyone toasted them, then sipped the wine.

“Delicious,” commented one of the guests. “What is this, Lucy?”

“Simone brought it,” Lucy replied. “I thought it would be fun for everyone to sample. It’s a Santini Chianti.”

“Out of my price range,” one of the guests said. “I like to keep my wine purchases under twenty.”

Simone was sitting to the right of Peter, who was positioned at the head of the table. She slid her gaze to him. If he was angry she’d brought a Santini wine, he didn’t show it. In fact, he was having a side conversation with Jerod, and wasn’t paying them any attention.

The meal was delicious, but Simone’s guts were in knots. She managed to eat enough that it didn’t draw attention. After dinner, while Peter was making coffee, she decided to call it. It wasn’t the right environment to talk to him in private, plus, she wasn’t about to pummel him with questions.

She wandered in to find him placing coffee mugs on the counter while Jerod relaxed on a counter stool at the island, his attention glued to his phone.

“Peter, thank you for inviting me,” Simone said.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Peter asked.

“I am,” she replied.

“Let’s chat on the porch,” he said. “Let me tell the guests the coffee is ready.”

Jerod put his arm around Simone. “You look so sad. It breaks my heart. What can I do to help?”

“That’s sweet, but I’m okay,” she said. “It’s not the right time to be social.”

“I understand.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze before removing his hand. “The power of death is life-changing.”

Peter returned, poured a cup of coffee, offered it to Simone. She declined.

He set it on the counter, slid it over to Jerod, then poured one for himself. Then, he held up a bottle of amaretto and a bottle of Grand Marnier.

Jerod took the cognac, poured in a healthy amount while Peter added amaretto to his.

Onto the porch they went. Surrounded by darkness, Peter turned on the light hanging over the sofa.

“I appreciate your being here, Simone,” Peter said, after they got comfortable.

She glanced at Jerod, then back to Peter. “It’s good being around you guys. Reminds me of when we used to work together.”

“If you want to return to Justice, I would hire you in a heartbeat,” Jerod said.

“Same,” Peter added. “You were an outstanding agent.” He sipped the drink. “I could use your help with something… something personal.”

“I’m not taking on any new clients right now,” Simone said.

“Are you talking about being a personal shopper?” Peter chuckled. “I’m not buying that. Did you move over to the Agency?”

“No, Peter,” she replied, her patience worn thin. “I’m not with the CIA.”

“My money’s on you going undercover, but I can’t get confirmation on that.”

“Not undercover, Peter.”

A hit of adrenaline punched through her. In a way, she was going UC. Not for the Bureau, but for ALPHA. Pride filled her heart. That, and determination. She was doing something to help an organization that had once brought her tremendous joy.

And she was doing it for Fred.

“Like I said, I need your help,” he said. “Like a side gig, just between us.”

This oughta be interesting.

“What would I be doing?”

“Surveilling Luciano Santini.”

Not this… again. What is law enforcement’s obsession with him?

Rather than dismiss him, she leaned back, crossed her legs. “Why would I do that?”

“He’s very close with Carrera Santini?—”

“They’re cousins?—”

“And Sinclair Develin.”

“I’m not following, Peter. What do you suspect him of?”

“I’m convinced Carrera and Sin have formed some kind of alliance. And if Luciano Santini is involved, it’s hella illegal. He ran—or still runs—the Santini crime family.”

As her agitation grew, she tapped her fingernails on the arm of the wrought iron sofa, letting the rap-rap-rap fill the silence.

“Years ago, we had a conversation that stayed with me,” Peter continued. “I’d recommended you for a promotion, which you got. You told me you appreciated that I was the epitome of professionalism. I was very touched by that.”

She nodded. “I remember.”

“You said that in a work environment where women aren’t always welcome, I made you, and all the women on the team, feel like equals. You told me I never said or did anything inappropriate.”

“Still holds true.”

He smiled. “You told me you’d be there for me, if the time came when you could return the favor.”

“I did.”

A coldness hardened his eyes. “I need to call in that favor, Red .”

She grew silent while the bass pounding in her head grew louder. Megaphone loud. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Why call in that favor now? And why her?

“I need to know what he’s up to,” Peter said.

Look who’s doing something illegal now.

“I’m not comfortable doing that, Peter,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have a choice, Red.”

Anger slithered around her heart. “I don’t work for you.”

“You do know how favors work, don’t you?”

She nodded, once.

“I’m calling mine in.”

Glaring at Peter, she stood. “Not happening.”

If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn’t working. Her frustration grew with each passing second.

“Peter, you can’t ask Red to do that,” Jerod said. “It’s wrong on so many levels. I get that you hate the guy because of what happened with your first wife, but you’re with Lucy now. You’ve got the Director’s ear for fuck’s sake. Let it go with Santini.”

Peter’s face turned beet red. “I was a goddamn cuckold and made to look like an ass.”

“Be pissed at your ex and don’t drag Red into this,” Jerod said. “She’s suffering enough. Her friend is dead, Peter. Dead!”

“You and I both know Santini is up to no good,” Peter insisted.

“Enough.” Jerod pushed off the sofa and regarded her. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Red, I’m sorry,” Peter said. “Jerod’s right. You just lost a good friend and here I am being a total jackass.”

“I’m gonna head out.” A myriad of emotions—frustration, anguish, and disappointment—followed her inside. After thanking Lucy, she made her way toward the front door, eager to leave. Jerod caught up with her as she opened it.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Outside, he said, “I’m sure this dinner party was the last place you wanted to be.”

“It was fine.”

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he said. “Death is the ultimate loss. It messes with people in a way that nothing else does.”

“It sure as hell does.” At her SUV, she opened the door and climbed in.

“And no worries, when you’re up to getting together again, I won’t talk about Luciano Santini and I won’t ask you to spy on him either. Just two old friends getting together. Well… I’m old.”

“You’re not old, Jerod.”

“I just turned forty-nine. Fifty is looming.” He fake-gasped.

She smiled. “You look terrific. What’s your secret?”

“Tanning spray and I’ve started coloring my hair. I refuse to let gravity win, so I’m chasing away the wrinkles too.”

She started her vehicle. “Thanks for the save tonight.”

“I’ll text you.” He shut her car door, shot her a smile before heading back inside.

As she drove to Slash and Carrera’s, disappointment tinged her thoughts. Tonight, she’d seen a different side of Peter. Until now, she’d held him in such high esteem.

Cut him some slack.

But she couldn’t. He was obsessed with taking down Luciano.

She’d never known any man who could create this kind of buzz. Surely, there were plenty of other people in the nation’s capital worthy of surveillance. On a personal level, she got it. One-hundred percent. Luciano was a top-tier DC power player. He was sick wealthy, total eye candy, and an international superstar.

By the time she returned to Slash’s, muscles running along her shoulders had turned to granite. She was used to working with the good guys to catch the bad ones. At the moment, she wasn’t sure who the good ones were.

“Oh, Fred,” she sighed. “I wish you were here. We’d sort through everything and figure it out together. I’m sure of it.”

I’ve been thrown into the deep end… with the sharks. This time, I’ll have to figure it out for myself.