Chapter 19 Mauricio
Mauricio
“Mauricio Barone?”
The unfamiliar voice on my phone makes every instinct I’ve honed over years scream danger. I glance at Regina, who’s dozed off against my good shoulder, then carefully extract myself from the bed to take this call in the other room.
“Who’s asking?”
“Detective Elisabetta Borghese. Simeone gave me your number.” Her voice carries the kind of crisp authority that comes from years of dealing with men who think they’re smarter than her. “We need to talk about Sabino Picarelli.”
I move to the window, scanning the tree line out of habit. “If Simeone trusts you enough to give out my contact information, he must have mentioned I’m not particularly fond of law enforcement.”
“He mentioned you were just released from prison. He also mentioned you’re currently harboring his enemy’s daughter and planning to release evidence that could start a war.” A pause. “I’m offering you a third option.”
“I’m listening.” Though every cell in my body is calculating how quickly I can disappear if this is a setup.
“I’ve been building a case against Sabino Picarelli for eight years. Evidence, testimony, documentation of every crime he’s committed since I started investigating him. But I need one thing I don’t have—his private ledgers. The ones you just stole from his vault last night.”
My blood runs cold. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I’ve been watching his estate for months. I saw the convoy leave for the emergency meeting. I saw the alarms go off. And I saw two people flee in a stolen vehicle with one of them bleeding from a gunshot wound.” Her tone softens slightly. “You’re lucky his guards are terrible shots.”
“What do you want, Detective?”
“The same thing you want—Sabino Picarelli destroyed. But I want him in prison for the rest of his life, not just dead in some gang war. I want him to suffer legally, publicly, with no possibility of his empire continuing after he’s gone.”
I process this, weighing angles and motivations. “And Regina? What happens to her in your vision of justice?”
“Miss Picarelli walks free.” No hesitation. “I’ve done my homework, Mr. Barone. I know she’s not his biological daughter. I know what he did to her real parents. And I know she’s been gathering evidence against him for years, which tells me she’s more victim than accomplice.”
“You’ve done your homework.” I turn from the window, lowering my voice. “But why contact me instead of just arresting us both and seizing the ledgers as evidence?”
“Because arresting you creates complications I don’t need.
Sabino has judges, prosecutors, half the department in his pocket.
If I move against you officially, it tips my hand before I’m ready.
” She pauses. “But if you cooperate voluntarily, if we coordinate—I can ensure those ledgers get into the right hands. Federal hands, not local corruption.”
Regina appears in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, eyes alert with concern. Who is it? she mouths.
I hold up one finger. “What’s your offer specifically, Detective?”
“You provide the ledgers and any other evidence you’ve gathered.
I build an airtight federal case that puts Sabino away for life—RICO charges, murder, trafficking, the works.
In exchange, I ensure Regina receives full immunity and witness protection if she needs it.
You get your revenge legally instead of suicidally. ”
“And if we refuse?”
“Then you release that evidence publicly, Sabino mobilizes every resource he has to kill you both before you can testify, and even if you somehow survive, he still might walk on technicalities because evidence obtained illegally is inadmissible in court.” Her voice hardens.
“I’m offering you a way to actually win, Mr. Barone.
Question is whether you’re smart enough to take it. ”
Regina’s moved close enough to hear now, her expression shifting from concern to something that looks like recognition.
“Detective,” she says, loud enough for the phone to pick up. “My father used to rant about an incorruptible detective who refused his bribes. That’s you, isn’t it? Detective Borghese?”
“Miss Picarelli.” Warmth enters Borghese’s voice. “Yes. Your father has offered me money, threats, career advancement—everything except what I actually want, which is to see him in a cell.”
“How do we know you’re not working with him? That this isn’t some elaborate trap?”
“You don’t. But consider this—if I wanted to trap you, I’d have shown up with a SWAT team, not a phone call. And I’d have moved against you last night when you were bleeding and vulnerable, not given you time to rest and think clearly.”
She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. I meet Regina’s eyes, seeing my own suspicion reflected back mixed with something that might be hope.
“Let’s say we’re interested,” I begin carefully. “What’s your timeline?”
“Fast. Sabino knows you have his ledgers. He’s already mobilizing—I’ve heard chatter about a twenty-five-million-dollar bounty on your heads. We need to move before he either finds you or destroys enough evidence to make prosecution difficult.”
“Define ‘move.’“
“Meet me tomorrow. Neutral location, I come alone, no wires, no backup. You bring the ledgers, I bring the federal immunity agreements and detailed prosecution plan. We coordinate our moves so when we strike, we strike everywhere simultaneously—legal, criminal, financial. Sabino won’t know what hit him. ”
Regina’s hand finds mine, squeezing with an intensity that communicates volumes. She wants this. Wants the legitimacy, the finality, the certainty that her father can’t wriggle free through violence or corruption.
“We’ll need additional assurances,” I say, mind already working through logistics. “Verification of your federal contacts. Proof you can actually deliver immunity. Insurance that this isn’t just you building your case on our corpses.”
“Reasonable. Simeone can verify my credentials—he’s the one who connected us after all.
And I’ll bring documented proof of my federal contacts when we meet.
” She pauses. “But Mr. Barone? You need to understand something. I’ve spent eight years on this case.
Eight years watching Sabino destroy lives while I built evidence brick by brick.
I’m not risking that for some half-assed attempt at glory.
When I move against him, it will be airtight and permanent. ”
The conviction in her voice is either genuine or she’s the best liar I’ve encountered. Given that I’m talking to someone who’s survived eight years investigating Sabino Picarelli, my money’s on genuine.
“I’ll call you back within six hours with a meeting location.” I disconnect before she can respond, immediately pulling up Simeone’s contact.
He answers on the first ring. “She called you.”
“You gave her my number.” It’s not quite an accusation, but close. “Want to explain why I’m talking to a cop, fratello?”
“Because Elisabetta Borghese is the real deal.” No hesitation in his voice. “I’ve been vetting her for two months since she first approached me about coordinating against Sabino. She’s clean, Mauricio. Actually clean. One of maybe three cops in this entire territory who can’t be bought.”
“That’s a hell of an endorsement.”
“It’s an honest assessment. She has federal connections, documentation going back years, and a legitimate burning desire to see Sabino Picarelli in prison for life.” He pauses. “She can give you what violence can’t—permanent legal destruction instead of just death.”
Regina tugs my arm, impatient for information. I put the phone on speaker so she can hear.
“What about Regina’s immunity?” I ask. “Borghese claims she can guarantee protection.”
“She can. I’ve seen the preliminary agreements.
Federal witness protection, full immunity for any crimes committed under duress, even financial support if needed.
” Simeone’s voice carries weight of someone who’s done his homework.
“This is legitimate, Mauricio. The best chance you have of actually winning and ending this. It’s a way for you two to get a fresh start. A happy ending.”
“And what’s your interest?” Regina asks, speaking for the first time. “Why coordinate with law enforcement when you could just let us handle this your way?”
“Because Loriana asked me to.” Warmth enters his tone. “She wants Alessandro growing up in a world where problems get solved legally sometimes. Where justice doesn’t always mean violence. Call it domestication, call it evolution—I’m trying to build something different.”
I exchange glances with Regina, seeing my own uncertainty reflected in her green eyes. This is either the smartest play we could make or the stupidest trap we could walk into.
“We’ll meet with her,” I finally decide. “But on our terms, our location, with backup plans in case this goes sideways.”
“Smart. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think it will.” Simeone pauses. “Mauricio? You’ve waited fifteen years for justice. Maybe legal justice is actually worth more than bloody revenge.”
After we disconnect, Regina collapses onto the couch with exhaustion and stress written across her features. “My father used to rant about Borghese. Called her the incorruptible bitch who refused to understand how the world actually works.”
“Sounds like an endorsement.” I settle beside her, careful of my wounded shoulder. “What do you think? Your father’s paranoid rants about her suggest she’s legitimate.”
“They suggest she’s been a thorn in his side for years.” Regina leans against me. “Father doesn’t rant about people unless they genuinely threaten him. If Borghese has been investigating him for eight years, she’s either extraordinarily competent or extraordinarily lucky to still be alive.”
“Probably both.” I pull out my phone, already thinking through neutral meeting locations. “We’ll need insurance. People watching our backs in case this is a setup.”
“Who do you trust that much?”
It’s a good question with complicated answers. After years in prison, my circle of trust is vanishingly small. But there is one person who might be relevant to this situation.
“There’s a man—David Kalinin. He was my cellmate in prison. We were tight, and he said if I ever need anything, to contact his brother-in-law, Dr. Oderico Muni. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Regina’s face transforms, shock bleeding into something that looks like hope. “He’s my therapist. Has been for three years.”
“You trust him?”
“With my life.” No hesitation. “Dr. Muni’s the only person who’s known the full truth about what Father is and never once made me feel like I deserved it. He’s been preparing documentation for years, waiting for me to be ready to use it.”
This changes the dynamics significantly. If we have a therapist willing to testify about systematic abuse, combined with Borghese’s legal case and our stolen evidence, we’re not just attacking Sabino—we’re building a multi-pronged assault he can’t defend against.
“Call him,” I decide. “Set up a meeting for tomorrow, same time as Borghese. Let’s see if we can coordinate all our allies into one coordinated strike.”
Regina’s already dialing, hand shaking slightly with what might be fear or anticipation. When a man’s voice answers—warm, professional, concerned—I see her entire posture shift.
“Dr. Muni? It’s Regina. I need your help. Actually, I need you to help me destroy my father.”
The conversation that follows is brief but intense. I hear confirmation, reassurance, immediate agreement to meet tomorrow. When Regina disconnects, tears shimmer in her eyes.
“He said he’s been waiting three years for me to make this call.” Her voice cracks.
“You have people in your corner,” I tell her, pulling her close. “More than you realized. Borghese, Dr. Muni, Simeone’s connections, my prison contact—”
“Wait.” Regina pulls back. “Who exactly is David Kalinin?”
“He’s a Russian mob boss. He owes me his life—literal life, I took a knife meant for him in a prison riot. When I got out, he made it clear his entire organization was available if I ever needed resources.”
“You have Russian mob connections.” She says it like testing the weight. “On top of a detective, a therapist, and Simeone’s empire.”
“We have all those things,” I correct. “This isn’t just my operation anymore, Regina. It’s ours. All these pieces moving together to ensure Sabino doesn’t just die—he’s completely, thoroughly, permanently destroyed.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels in her head turning as she processes the full scope of what we’re building. Finally, she speaks, voice carrying determination that makes my chest tight.
“Tomorrow we meet with everyone. Borghese, Dr. Muni, coordinate with everyone’s contacts. We build a plan. A good one. By the time we’re done, there won’t be anything left of his empire but ashes and prison bars.”
“That’s the plan.” I kiss her forehead, breathing in her scent—bergamot and vanilla and fierce courage. “You ready for this? Once we put this in motion, there’s no backing out.”
“I’ve been ready since I found those photographs of my real parents’ bodies.
” Steel enters her voice. “Since I realized the man I called Father murdered the people who actually loved me. I’m not just ready, Mauricio—I’m eager.
Let’s make Sabino Picarelli regret every choice that led to this moment. ”