Olivia #2
“Convenient.”
“Yes, well he died of cancer a month later, so I don’t believe it was him. But it was someone.”
He studies me and then nods. “Let me get you some food. Then you need to get some rest. I have…business to take care of, but we can talk when I get back.”
“Why do I feel like you’re putting me off? We want the same thing, Dom.”
“If we’re going to do this, we need information. You need your computer and notes. I need mine. Now for once can you do as I ask and have breakfast and rest? Good God, woman. Do you say no automatically because it’s me or is that your answer to everyone?”
My lips twitch upward at his burst of frustration. “It’s probably you.”
He shakes his head but winks. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I wake and note that the light in the room is dimming.
“Sleep well?”
I turn to see Dom in the same chair, a laptop in his lap.
“Yes. How long have I been out?”
“Nearly five hours. Hungry?”
I shake my head. “No. I want to get to work.” I push myself up, sitting against the pillows.
Dom brings his laptop and sits beside me on the bed, close enough that I can feel his warmth but not quite touching.
He opens files containing surveillance photos and timelines that make my stomach sink.
“Are you willing to consider someone you work with is dirty?”
It’s difficult to admit, but I nod. “Yes. I’ve come across several things that have concerned me.”
“Any ideas who?”
I shake my head. “Could be anyone—”
“No. The only person who threads this needle is Blackwood.” He watches me, I assume to see my response.
I work to keep my expression neutral. “Show me.”
“Ernie Abruzzo was his informant, who was the go-between for Mrs. Ferraza who was to give information in exchange for Isabella’s freedom. But when Mrs. Ferraza learned something she planned to tell her husband about, Ernie killed her. Then Ernie turns up dead, a drug overdose.”
“Don Ferraza’s MO.”
“Yes, except he had no clue Ernie killed his wife. Ernie wasn’t made, but he was the brother of a Calabresi captain. We have laws in La Corona, too, and one is you can’t go around killing each other's men without prior permission.”
My gaze jerks to his wondering if he realizes he’s nearly admitting to murder.
His dark gaze holds mine, as if he’s waiting to see if I’m going to cuff him. When I don’t he says, “Isabella wants answers and Blackwood appears willing to help in exchange for information. You helped with that.”
“I was doing my job.” I hate feeling like I have to defend myself for trying to put criminals away.
“Sal Abruzzo was working with his brother and Blackwood to bring down La Corona.”
“He’s missing. I don’t suppose you know what happened to him?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea.”
He’s lying, but I let it pass. “It’s plausible that Blackwood is doing his job and it’s La Corona’s reaction that is causing all this discord.”
“I suppose you’ll say it’s okay that Blackwood lied to everyone he said he’d help. Like Isabella. He had no intention of extracting her. Or Gabriella Monti. That info he tried to pawn on her were lies.”
I shift uncomfortably. “It’s not against the rules to mislead people in an investigation.”
He shakes his head. “Another one of those rules that’s okay for some but not for others.”
He’s not wrong, and it bothers me. “What else?”
“An FBI vehicle took Rocco and one brought him back.”
“I explained that.”
“Explain this.” He shows me the photos that appear to be taken from traffic cameras. “Same license plate.”
“Someone must have taken mine. The GPS reports say that’s not my vehicle.” I glance at him, wondering if he believes me.
“Maybe the report is doctored.”
“It would be easier to steal the plate.” I pull his laptop toward me, looking more closely at the pictures. “They’re not the same car. Look. This one has a scratch on the back bumper. That one is mine. An old lady backed into me.”
He leans in studying the photos. “Okay, so someone is setting you up. Blackwood is still the most likely culprit.”
"It could be anyone. Even someone in La Corona.” I have to play devil's advocate here.
Dom closes the laptop and turns to face me. "Do you really think we’d kidnap a child? Murder the wife of a don? What purpose would that serve except to fracture our unity?"
I close my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed.
The room spins slightly, my concussion mixing with emotional exhaustion.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I admit. "Everything I've built my career on feels like quicksand."
Dom takes my hand in his. "Hey," he says softly. "It's okay to be confused. You've been through hell."
I try to blink back tears but fail. "I feel so…unmoored. I can’t wrap my mind around any of this. I feel like an idiot.”
"No," Dom says firmly, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever met. You're just tired and hurt right now."
"Do you know how many hours I've spent building a case against you?
Thousands. Years of surveillance, financial investigations, witness interviews.
And for what?" I gesture at the laptop between us.
"I've got nothing solid. Meanwhile, I've collected more evidence against my own boss in two weeks than I have against you in four years. "
Dom's eyes crinkle at the corners as he breaks into a wide grin.
"Maybe that's because I haven't committed any crimes," he says with exaggerated innocence.
I snort. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."
"Your Majesty," he says with a mock bow that makes me laugh despite myself.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, we're just two people sharing a joke, not criminal and cop.
"You know what keeps me up at night?" Dom asks, his voice softening as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers linger against my cheek.
"What?" I ask, not pulling away like I should.
"The fact that I can't stop thinking about you." His confession hangs between us. "I should be worried about La Corona, about whoever's trying to set us up, about keeping my family safe. Instead, I find myself wondering what you're doing, if you're okay, if you're thinking about me too."
His thumb traces my jawline, and I feel my pulse quicken.
"It's wrong," he continues. "Everything about this is wrong. You're FBI. I'm... well, you know what I am. But I can't help it."
The air between us feels electric, charged with possibilities.
I should push him away. Put on the breaks. But I can't form the words. Because despite everything, I want him.
I lean into his touch, just for a moment. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
Dom studies me. "You can trust me, Olivia. At least with this."
"Can I?" I challenge. "You’re not beyond doing the very things you’re accusing my boss of. Coercion. Manipulation.”
"I'm asking you to find the truth," he counters. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? Justice for everyone, even for people like Rocco and Mrs. Ferraza? Do they not deserve justice too?"
His words hit their mark. He knows exactly which buttons to push.
“You said we can work together. You have access to FBI resources I can't reach. I have connections and information you'll never get through official channels. Together, we might actually figure out who's pulling the strings."
"And then what?" I ask. "If it turns out Blackwood is corrupt, what's your plan? Because if it involves anything illegal—"
"One step at a time," he interrupts. "First, we gather evidence. Then we decide how to use it."
“I won’t be a part of murder.”
His eyes turned pained. “You already are, Olivia. Mrs. Ferraza and I suspect Gio too, are victims of Blackwood.”
Gio. I’d forgotten about him.
It was my idea to work together, but now I’m unsure. If I move forward, I'm crossing a line I've never crossed before working with a criminal against the FBI. If I don't, I might never learn the truth about and end up being a part of corruption I vowed to fight against.
I look up at him, staring into the depths of his eyes wanting to see that I can trust him.
I give him a nod. “Okay.” I feel like I’ve just leapt off a cliff. God, I hope I’m able to catch myself before I crash and burn.