26. Portia
PORTIA
It takes a moment for me to realize it’s the police that have pulled up on us. Their flashing lights glow brightly in the night, lighting up the park grounds.
I stand frozen in their glare, chest heaving, every nerve in my body drawn tight as wire. Diavolo’s arm hangs slack at his side, equally as thrown off by the sudden appearance of law enforcement. After his battle with Rafael, it’s short-circuited whatever madness has been going on inside his head.
The voice barks its next command when we don’t move fast enough.
“Hands up in the air. Now or you will be disobeying a lawful command.”
Another squad car pulls up behind the first one. The doors open and several officers step out with their guns drawn. I immediately recognize one of them—Captain Luca Poveri walks among his men like he’s some valiant warrior on the battlefield about to claim victory.
My gaze swings to the other man walking at his side, the lanky man with glasses and hair that grays at the edges, and I almost gasp as I put it together.
This is a takedown.
…and I’ve helped them without even realizing I have.
Baron Strong is at Poveri’s side, pride gleaming on his face as he walks toward us. My old field producer at Metro News believes I’m on his side. He thinks I’m in on the bust.
He’s not exactly wrong. I just never imagined the truth would come out like this.
After Benjamin Sigler’s niece contacted me and I decided to continue my investigation into the Bellucci crime family from DC, I knew I would need help. Someone else I could rely on who had the resources and know how to help me handle the situation.
That someone was Baron.
I sent him copies of the evidence Ally gave me, and I kept him in the loop as I made last-minute arrangements for my trip to Sicily. He knew all about Rafael’s surveillance of my life in DC and decided he could help me escape without drumming up suspicions.
The burner phone was even his idea.
But then things fell apart when I realized Il Diavolo and the Belluccis were onto me and I had to leave Sicily immediately. The rest goes without saying…
“Portia!” Baron calls out to me. He breathes deeply with relief. “Thank god you’re alive! I knew those reports were falsified, but I couldn’t prove them. Then we started noticing the geotag on your burner had changed from Sicily to Newport.”
The blood drains from my face as the realization crashes down.
The burner phone.
I hadn’t even realized it was still around. It had been confiscated from me the moment I was taken captive.
Il Diavolo must’ve kept it in his possession not realizing Baron could track my location.
“Hands up! This is the final time we’re going to tell you!” Captain Poveri commands. His men have stopped at his side, their hands hovering over their holstered firearms.
I take a deep breath, hyperaware of the fact Il Diavolo has made no attempt to obey the command. He doesn’t intend to in the slightest, and Rafael has no choice in this moment.
The situation needs defusing before weapons are drawn.
“This is a misunderstanding,” I say loudly and clearly. “This man is in the middle of a mental health episode. Please do not draw your weapons or hurt him.”
“This man is notorious mafia boss Rafael Calderone, and we finally have enough to take him down,” Captain Poveri answers, nodding as if congratulating himself. “We will need you to step out of the way as we apprehend the criminal.”
“Look, I’m telling you the truth,” I say. “This isn’t Rafael Calderone right now, and this man needs to see a doctor. The last thing he needs?—”
“Step aside or you will be apprehended alongside him!” he barks.
Tension radiates in waves across the landscape, making every move feel threatening. I can sense Il Diavolo at my side on the verge of striking, even as he’s outnumbered eight to one by armed police.
But as I rack my brain for things to say or what to do, it seems like there’s nothing I can say to change any minds.
Baron has likely submitted some of the evidence we’ve gathered, and Captain Poveri is jumping at the chance to make such a major bust. A promotion will be in his future.
“Portia, what are you doing?” Baron asks, brows furrowed. “Step aside and let the police do their job. You can’t possibly be trying to defend this guy—you were investigating him!”
I shake my head. “There’s a lot more to the story than you understand. More than I knew at the time.”
“You’re brainwashed. He’s got you suffering from some sort of Stockholm syndrome,” says Baron in disbelief. “Wake up, Portia. You can’t fall in love with your kidnapper!”
“I’ve heard enough! This isn’t some negotiation—this is an arrest! Rafael Calderone, put your hands on top of your head and prepare to be searched and apprehended. Officers, proceed.”
Several officers advance toward us, their hands still hovering by their firearms in case they need to draw them.
Still, Il Diavolo has made no attempt to obey. He remains where he is, simply peering at Captain Poveri and the officers like they’re more of an inconvenience than anything.
And then, right as the officers are only a few feet away and it seems he won’t react at all, he moves so fast no one expects it.
One second he’s beside me, still as stone, the next I’m wrenched toward him with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. I crash into him, his chest a wall of muscle. His arm locks tight around me, hard, and cold metal presses against my temple.
He’s holding me at gunpoint.
Of course I’ve suspected Il Diavolo—and even Rafael—was armed more often than not. But I never anticipated him drawing his weapon like this. Not as police close in and he uses it to take me hostage.
I’m so stunned I whimper like I’ve been struck, my heart pounding painfully fast in my chest.
The police have stopped abruptly, alarm widening their eyes. A couple of them glance uncertainly at Captain Poveri for direction. He’s equally as shocked, his nostrils flaring.
Il Diavolo backs us up a couple more steps to put more space between us and the police attempting to apprehend him. He’s close enough that his breath tickles the side of my face, the grip he has on me still tight.
“Play along, dolcezza,” he murmurs softly into my ear. It’s low enough no one else hears, the mask further disguising him. “This is the only way we both make it out of here safe and sound.”
“This isn’t the direction you want to go in, Calderone,” Poveri warns. “Put the gun on the ground and let the woman go. Then put your hands on your head and let us take you to the station peacefully.”
“I have no intention of letting you do any of that, captain. I’m sorry to burst your little bubble.”
Captain Poveri scowls. “You have no choice! You’ll be surrounded. You’ll never escape, no matter how big and powerful you think you are. Bigger mobsters than you have been taken down.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Il Diavolo says, backing us up even more. “You come any closer and guess what? This beautiful, intelligent woman loses her life.”
“You wouldn’t hurt her!” Baron blurts out. “You’re in love with her, Mr. Calderone! Everyone at Metro could see it as clear as day!”
Tension cords Il Diavolo at Baron’s words. I feel it as I’m pressed up against him, held tight by the arm around my waist.
He doesn’t like to hear about Rafael’s feelings for me; he likes it even less when they refer to him as Rafael.
“You have the wrong guy,” he says. “I’m not him, and I’ll do what I have to to survive. Stay where you are and nobody gets hurt.”
We keep backing up until we’ve reached the sidewalk where the limousine he’d asked to circle the area is parked half a block down.
“It was nice conversing with you, officers,” Diavolo taunts. “But as you can see, we have a ride to catch.”