Dom
The warehouse should be empty. It's Saturday afternoon for one, and secondly, I have no inventory here.
Not that there isn’t security, but I’m less concerned about an empty warehouse than one filled with illegal goods, where my men are posted now.
I approach cautiously, hand hovering near my concealed weapon.
The winter air bites at my face, but it's not the cold making the hair on my neck stand up.
Something's off. I can’t explain what it is. Instinct maybe.
The perimeter appears untouched. No forced entry, no tire tracks that shouldn't be here.
I circle to the back entrance, moving silently just in case someone is lurking about. My breath clouds in front of me as I pause, listening for any sound from within.
Nothing.
I unlock the door using the code, opening it just enough to slip inside.
Darkness greets me, broken only by strips of afternoon sunlight filtering through high windows.
I roll my shoulders to keep them loose. I draw my gun, moving deeper into the warehouse.
There is no product but there is a table and a few chairs.
I freeze when I spot the body sprawled behind the table. Even in the dim light, I recognize him.Michael, the so-called desperate family man looking for work. The undercover FBI agent.
Blood pools beneath him, but it’s thick and more brown than red, telling me he's been for awhile.
My first thought is thank fuck I went to the Winter Festival.
This guy was definitely killed while I was there, which means I have an alibi.
I approach his body, gun still raised. I check his pulse, knowing it's pointless.
His skin is cold. The kill shot is precise.
Center mass, professional.
This wasn't some random violence or robbery gone wrong. This was an assassination.
"Fuck," I mutter, standing quickly and scanning the warehouse.
My men wouldn't have done this, not without my order, which I never gave.
If Michael threatened one of my men, they’d be well within their right to defend himself, but he would have called me to let me know.
We have protocols. We're careful. And we don't kill federal agents unless absolutely necessary.
This feels orchestrated. The silent alarm. The clean perimeter. The fresh body.
I'm being set up.
I check my watch. Michael's been dead two hours, a little less, a little more. Whoever did this could still be nearby, waiting for me to find him.
I have to consider an ambush.
This isn’t unlike what happened to Marco and Roman a few years ago.
I holster my gun and pull out my phone, getting ready to call Angelo and maybe Roman. I'd call the police except I know I'm going to be blamed for this and I rather not.
"Sorry Michael. I've got to make you disappear."
The warehouse door bangs open behind me. I spin, reaching for my gun on instinct before freezing mid-motion.
Olivia stands silhouetted in the doorway, her face shifting from shock to horror as her eyes lock on Michael's body, then on me standing over him.
"Don't move!" She draws her weapon in one fluid motion, training it on my chest. Her hands are steady, her stance perfect. "Put your gun down and step away from him, Dom. Now."
The accusation in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade. After everything, she still sees me as nothing but a killer.
"Olivia, listen to me. I didn't do this." I set my gun on the ground and take a step away with my hands up. I'm putting my life in her hands. Does she see that?
“Turn around.” She pulls out a pair of handcuffs.
I do as she says, letting her handcuff me even though I could over take her.
But doing so would only prove to her that all I am is bad.
Still. I can make my case. "I just found him like this. The alarm went off, and I came to check—"
"Save it." Her voice cracks slightly. "I heard you telling him you had to make him disappear."
Fucking hell. "He's been dead for hours. I just found him and knowing I'd be accused of killing him, I was apologizing to him—"
"You're supposed to call the police."
I give her a look. "You know they'd lock me up without a key not caring about the truth."
She looks at me like I've betrayed her. It breaks me even as it angers me.
"This is a setup, Olivia. We've been through too much suspicious shit for you not to see that. Who sent you here? Blackwood?"
Her jaw tightens, telling me I'm right.
"He wanted you to be the one to find me here. He's either giving you a gift or testing you. How much do you want to bet he suspects something between you and me?”
"There's nothing between you and me. Nothing real anyway."
"Bullshit. I'm in love with you. It doesn't get any more real than that."
Her eyes widen, but the gun doesn't waver.
"I'm no saint, but I'm not the monster you want me to be. I'd never put you in this position, finding me with a dead colleague."
"You told me to make sure he was pulled from your case and—"
"He was no threat to my business. In fact, I got more information from him than he did from me."
She doesn't lower her gun, but doubt flickers across her face.
I take a chance and step toward her. "This is Blackwood. He's setting me up, and he sent you here to witness it."
"Dom—"
"If I wanted him dead, he'd already be dead, and no one would find his body. You know that. Besides, I have an alibi. He's been dead a few hours. I was at the Winter Festival. There are tons of witnesses." I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me.
I can see the conflict in her. It should give me hope, but it hurts like hell that she has any doubt at all.
"I tried to call you earlier, but I guess you've blocked me. I have information about your father's murder."
The warehouse door bangs open again, and Blackwood strides in with his gun drawn.
"Agent Ricci, step back. I've got him." His voice carries the false concern of someone playing hero.
My stomach drops. This setup is more elaborate than I thought.
The timing is too perfect.
Blackwood arriving moments after Olivia found me with the body.
He planned this down to the second.
Blackwood's eyes meet mine, and I see it. The cold calculation, the satisfaction.
This man has orchestrated everything and now he's here to finish what he started with me.
"You've done good here, Ricci," Blackwood replies smoothly. "Vitale's been one step ahead of us for years. Not anymore."
I shift my weight slightly, assessing my options. I’m hand cuffed, but I’m not helpless. But I can’t risk doing anything without Olivia getting caught in the crossfire.
"Agent Ricci, go call in the forensics team," Blackwood orders. "I’ll secure the suspect."
Olivia hesitates, her gun still trained on me but her eyes flicker with uncertainty.
"Don't leave," I say quietly, maintaining eye contact with her. "The moment you walk out that door, I'm a dead man."
"Shut up, Vitale," Blackwood snaps.
"Think about it, Olivia. Michael's already dead. Who killed him? Not me. I was at the festival this afternoon with a hundred witnesses. Blackwood sent you here knowing exactly what you'd find."
Blackwood's face hardens. "Agent Ricci, I gave you an order."
"You're smarter than this," I continue, speaking only to Olivia. "Why would I kill an undercover agent in my own warehouse? Why would I stick around afterward? Nothing about this makes sense unless it's a setup."
I can see her mind working, connecting the dots we've been tracking for weeks.
"He killed Michael just like he probably had Mrs. Ferraza killed. Just like he orchestrated Rocco's kidnapping. Just like he may have been involved in your father's death."
Blackwood's eyes narrow dangerously. "One more word and I'll shoot you where you stand."
I'm not afraid to die. I've lived with that possibility since I was born into this life.
But I'd rather not.
Not when I've finally found something, more accurately someone, worth living for.
"Olivia," I say her name softly. "I'm not asking you to believe I'm innocent of everything. But this? This isn't me. You know it isn't."
The warehouse falls silent. No one moves.
Blackwood's face twists into something ugly, his mask slipping for the first time. "Agent Ricci, I'm not going to tell you again." His voice drops lower, becoming almost intimate. "Think about what's at stake here. Think about your future."
I watch Olivia's face, trying to read what's happening behind those beautiful eyes.
"Your child deserves better than this, Olivia," Blackwood says.
Child? She has a child?
"That's right," Blackwood continues in a gloating tone, watching my reaction with satisfaction. "You didn't know? Our Agent Ricci is carrying your bastard. Imagine that poor kid's life. Father in prison or dead, mother disgraced, and the Vitale legacy hanging over its head forever."
My mind races to put the pieces in place. Not a child. A baby. She’s carrying my baby.
I look at Olivia, whose face has gone pale. The confirmation is written in her eyes.
"Vitale blood is a curse," Blackwood presses. "You know what happens to children in these families, Olivia. They become monsters or victims. Is that what you want?"
My throat tightens with emotion I can't afford to show. A baby I’ve created with her.
Something I didn’t know I wanted, and now I want nothing else.
Just her and the baby.
But then it dawns on me that she didn’t tell me. I think of the doctor's appointment my men said she went to the other day. She had to know then.
Instead of telling me, she blocked me from calling her.
She doesn’t want me in her or the baby’s life.
And what better way to insure that than to kill me.
I straighten my shoulders, looking directly into her eyes. "If you believe our child would be better off without me, then pull that trigger yourself. Don't let Blackwood do your dirty work."
Her head jerks, like she’s shocked I’d say such a thing.
I step forward, closing the distance until the barrel of her gun presses against my chest. "If you want me gone, do it now. But know that whatever happens, I love you both."
Now I wait.
Will she choose to free herself and her child from me?
Will she pull the trigger and make Blackwood’s revenge complete?