5. Reflections of Fear #3
I grab my phone, thumb hovering over Zeke’s number. Pride wars with practicality. I don’t want to need his help, don’t want to prove him right about marriage being my only option. But if the mafia really is watching my house—where my nephew sleeps—can I afford to let pride win?
The headlights suddenly vanish as the car drives away, plunging down the street into darkness. I strain my eyes, trying to make out movement in the shadows, needing to confirm the threat is gone.
My fingers tighten around my phone as adrenaline floods my system. I rush to the front door and check the locks.
Then I lean against the door and slide to the floor. “Fuck.”
How did this become my life?
I stare at the case files spread across my desk, the weight of the world pressing down on my chest. Months of careful investigation, painstakingly pieced together, are about to go up in smoke. The thought sours my stomach.
The office buzzes with its usual morning activity—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the tired shuffle of feet heading toward the break room for another desperate hit of caffeine.
But I barely register any of it. Lost in my own spiraling thoughts, the noise fades into a dull hum.
Each file represents a life, a story. Meanwhile, potential failure looms.
“Earth to Eve.” Rissa waves her hand in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ten minutes. What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath, my fingers drumming against the worn edge of my desk. “My cover’s blown.”
“What?” She wheels her chair closer, lowering her voice. “How?”
“Giovanni Costa recognized me at Club Velvet Petal Saturday night.” The words taste bitter in my mouth. “He recognized me as the hooker and Marcus Barone knew I was a cop.”
“Shit.” Rissa leans back, running a hand through her dark hair. “What the fuck were you doing there?”
“Out with some friends. They dragged me there. Twice.”
She curses again under her breath before she pins me with a stare. “Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.” I leave out the part about Gio wanting me dead, Zeke’s desperate solution, and my connection to him. Some secrets need to stay just that. Secret. “I’m sure he wants me taken out but he’s not foolish enough to murder a cop.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Rissa agrees. “But be careful. If you notice anything unusual we can put a car at your house.”
I dismiss her, not wanting to dwell on what I witnessed last night. I spent the majority of the night restless, attempting to persuade myself it wasn’t what I feared. I’m not being watched. It was merely my mind playing tricks on me.
“This puts us back to square one.” Rissa grabs the case file, flipping through the pages with growing frustration. “Six women raped, and we’re no closer to proving the Costa family’s involvement.”
“I know.” Guilt eats at my insides. We’d been so close to gathering enough evidence. Now those women might never see justice.
“We need to tell Captain Reynolds,” Rissa says, already standing up.
I nod, my stomach churning. Another failure to add to my growing list. First, I couldn’t protect my sister’s family. I should have at least been able to give my sister peace by finding her husband James’s killer after his senseless murder. Now, I can’t even do my job right.
“Hey.” Rissa’s voice softens. “This isn’t your fault. These guys are professionals at staying under the radar.”
If she only knew the half of it. I force a weak smile, but inside, I’m screaming. Because now I have to choose between my career and my life, between justice and survival. Either way, I lose.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. “I need your advice.”
“About what?” Rissa asks, her concern evident.
“How do I tell Reynolds that months of undercover work just went down the drain?” My voice cracks. “That I fucked up and got made?”
“You didn’t fuck up, Eve.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “These things happen in undercover work. Reynolds knows that.”
I pull my hand away, standing up to pace. My boots click against the linoleum floor as I move, each step matching the pounding in my chest. “Six women, Rissa. Six victims counting on us to get them justice.”
“And we will. We’ll find another way.”
“Who knows how many more there will be because of my failure.”
Rissa jumps up and squeezes my arm. “Eve, you can’t think like that. We’ll figure this out.”
I stop at the window, staring out at the gray Columbus skyline. The truth sits heavy on my tongue—how do I tell Reynolds that not only is my cover blown, but I’m being forced into a marriage with a man connected to the very criminals we’re investigating?
“What aren’t you telling me?” Rissa’s reflection appears beside mine in the window.
I turn to face her, crossing my arms. “Nothing. I just … I need to know how to break this to Reynolds without looking incompetent.”
“Be direct. Stick to the facts. Don’t get emotional.” She counts off on her fingers. “And most importantly, have a plan for how to move forward.”
“A plan?” I almost laugh. My only plan involves a forced marriage to Ezekiel King, and that’s not exactly something I can share in my incident report.
“Yeah, like maybe we pivot to surveillance. Or we send in someone else undercover.” She shrugs. “Reynolds responds better when you come with solutions, not just problems.”
I nod. If she only knew the real solution. “Thanks, Rissa. I appreciate it.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No.” I gather my courage along with the case files, and head toward the Captain’s office. “This is something I need to do alone.”
A few moments later, I stand in Captain Reynolds’s office, my back rigid as he paces behind his desk. The vein in his temple throbs—never a good sign.
“Let me get this straight,” he stops, planting both hands on his desk, “not only is your cover blown, but you’re telling me every major player in the Columbus mafia was at this nightclub?”
“Yes, sir.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “The Barone family, the Costas, even the Russos—they were all there.”
“Jesus Christ.” He runs a hand over his face. “And you just happened to be there?”
“My friends wanted to go out.” The explanation sounds weak, even to my ears. Rule number one when you’re doing undercover work—never go where you could get marked. “I had no idea they’d be at the club. Intel never uncovered a connection before.”
“Maybe we can use this.” Reynolds taps his fingers on the desk. “If they’re all congregating at one location, we can set up surveillance. Get eyes and ears inside.”
“They’re careful, sir. And the club’s security is top-notch. If we send undercover cops in, they’ll be spotted. I mean,” I hold my arms out to my side and sigh. “I was spotted.”
“Then we’ll need to get creative.” He grabs a notepad. “We’ll put together a team. Different faces rotating through, gathering intel. If this club is their meeting ground, we need to know everything that happens there.”
I nod, relief flooding through me. At least some good might come from this disaster. Though Zeke will be pissed. He’s not going to like that I just put his club on SVU’s radar in a huge way. “What if this was just a one-time visit?”
“Then we’ll figure that out,” he says, like it’s an easy task.
“I’m on it.” I turn to leave but he calls out to me.
“And Landry?” Reynolds fixes his stern eyes on me. “Stay away from that club. You’re too hot now—they’ll be watching for you.”
If he only knew how impossible that order would be to follow.