Chapter 21 - Anna #2
I join the line, and my heart is hammering in my chest as I slowly move along, inching my way closer to the counter.
I cross my arms, and on one side, my fingers dance along the hem of my waistband where the folded papers are hidden. On the other, I clutch the cash Gabriel handed me.
As I reach the counter, another barista approaches and greets me with a warm smile. "Good morning, ma'am. What can I get started for you today?" he asks me.
"Umm, a small flat white, please," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and cool as I glance around, looking at the workers once more.
"All right, small flat white," he says, pressing buttons on a computer. "Would you like anything else? Fresh-baked muffin? Croissant?"
I shake my head. "No, thanks," I say and hand him Gabriel's $50.
He takes it and gives me my change. "One moment, ma'am."
A few seconds later, another barista appears. He's short, about my height, with very thin lips and glasses.
He sets my drink down in front of me, reaches over, and puts a top on my drink. Then he does something that makes my throat tighten—sprinkles cinnamon on my lid.
"Bathroom," he says in a low tone and looks to his left.
I follow his gaze and see a door with an "Out of Order" sign on it.
I look back at him, and he nods. He picks up my drink, moves it over to the to-go section, and walks away.
I pick up what I think he's hinting at and make my way down the hall in the direction of the "Out of Order" sign. I look back to see no one watching me and turn the handle. The door opens, and I slide inside.
Thirty seconds later, the man opens the door and locks it behind him.
"Agent Bennett, we don't have much time," he says.
"Yes, I—"
"Do you have anything to share with the Bureau?"
I fumble at my waistband and pull out the papers. I open them up to look them over and remove the top page.
The man grabs the rest from me.
"Is this what you have?"
"Yes," I say hesitantly. "Those are my notes on the Bonventis, the fight with the Russians, the Greeks and Polish input, and a few other things. Oh, and the Russians just took out four Italians yesterday, so all this will be coming to a head soon, I’m sure."
The man scans the notes, and as he does this, I realize I’m still holding onto one of the pages. I fold it up and put it in my pocket.
Jesus, what am I doing?
"Yes, yes, we heard about that. Killed women, right?" the man asks me without looking up.
"Yes, I was shocked when Gab...I mean, Luca told me about it," I say, stuttering.
"Ivan does play like that. Anything else you want to tell me that’s not in these notes? I'll read them fully later and pass them along," he asks, now looking at me with a stern face.
"No, not at this time," I say confidently—or at least I hope I do.
"Okay, listen," the man says, tucking the papers into his apron. "We're getting ready to strike. We'll be moving into position soon. We want to get out in front before the Italians and Russians lay waste to the Chicago streets and innocent people are killed. A few other special agents—"
"A few others?" I ask, surprised. "Undercover?"
The man nods. "Yes, but that's not important right—"
"Not important? How many? Are any on the Italian side?"
"I don’t know all the facts. You know how it is—you’re only given what you need and all that. But listen, you need to try and come back in a few days' time with anything else you have."
"What if I can’t come back in a few days?"
"Look," the man says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "We’ll probably come extract you or something. I don’t know. I don’t have any facts on when the sting will come, but you have a few days—they at least told me that to tell you."
"Who?"
"Agent Harris and Russell."
"Ah, yes, them."
"They have all the details," he says, turning around. "A few days and then, I don’t know, just come back in a few days and be ready for extraction," he says, opening the door and walking out. I’m left standing there with my mind spinning.
A few days? What sting? Extraction? What the hell is happening?
I feel as if the last hold I had on my life just went out the window. Were the FBI just using me? Since there are other agents at play, did they have a plan all this time and just want to see what else they could get?
What. The. Fuck.
I need to collect my thoughts, but I can’t do that standing in the bathroom. Besides, Gabriel is waiting for me.
I walk down the hall and over to the to-go counter and see my flat white with my name on it—Sofia.
I grab it but hesitate. I didn’t even tell him my name.
Of course, he’d know my undercover name. I shake it off and pick it up. I look around the coffee shop, but the man I was talking to is nowhere to be found.
I walk over to the small table where they have packets of sugar, straws, and lids, and I remove the piece of paper I kept from my pocket.
I open it, and scrawled across the top is a name—Gabriel.
It’s everything I have on him. The details of the hit I was at with Luca, any notes I’ve gleaned, all my intel. Enough to put him behind bars for life. Incriminating evidence—and I didn’t hand it over.
Why didn’t I hand it over?
I fold the paper back up, rip it into small pieces, and drop them into the trash. I walk outside and see Gabriel. He nods and hurries off the phone.
"Sofia, I hope the coffee is good."
I don’t want the informant to see me with him, so I just walk past him to hurry us away. "Yes, now we can head back."
I take a few deep breaths. For the first time in my life, I’ve just withheld intel from the FBI. I’ve failed to perform my job duties. I’ve lied.
I have no idea what’s going to happen. I have no idea if I’ll end up dead or accumulate so much guilt that I turn on Gabriel since it’s the "right thing to do." I’m terrified of what I just did in that coffee shop bathroom, but I somehow feel safer now in his presence.
The only thing I do know right now is the glaring, obvious fact: I’m willing to risk everything for this 6'4" killer walking beside me.
Maybe he really does own me.
Once we're back inside the suite, Gabriel finally tells me what’s been on his mind.
"Okay, so Luca is going to come and get you this evening. He’s going to take you down to the little speakeasy I took you to the other day. There’s a meeting, and he wants you to make an appearance."
"Why would he take me to a meeting?" I ask because that doesn’t seem like something Luca would do.
Gabriel scoffs. "To show you off to the others that will be there. But he’s going to ask me to take you away for a bit. Also," he says, coming closer to me, "don’t mention I was here. I stayed. Any of it. Do you understand?"
I smile. "I can’t tell him how well you—"
"Sofia, I am serious," he says with a stern growl that sends a bit of fear through me.
"Yes, of course. I wouldn’t," I say, trying to hide my nerves at his outburst.
"It’s complicated, but I am going to talk with him to fix things."
"Tonight?"
He grabs my chin, leans in, and kisses me. His lips are like fire, and my body yearns for it to never stop, to keep it warm.
"Not if I get to spend it with you. Now, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight."
He doesn’t give me any time to ask questions or follow up. He turns and leaves.
I walk over and sit on the oversized couch. I set my coffee on the table and lean back, my body still warm from his kiss. I don’t want to think about what I did. I don’t want to worry about the extraction or the sting the FBI is setting up. I just want to think about Gabriel.
The only problem is, I’m so torn. I’m either lying to Gabriel or lying to the FBI. I never thought i’d be in a position like this. I’m falling for someone and willing to risk my whole career on it. What am I doing and what if I am found out by everyone?