The Desire That Targeted a Hitman
The Agent
When did protective details turn into emotional support for criminals?
My only job tonight was to keep an eye on the key witness for an upcoming racketeering case. I parked my unmarked car on the rear side of the isolated mountain chalet, near a small clearing between the trees, to keep my presence discreet - and give our witness some privacy.
Lorenzo Rizzalli, once the trusted financial advisor and money launderer for the infamous Lombardi mob, has been bouncing around the States for the past few weeks in efforts to keep his former employers from discovering his true location.
Like any other organized crime ring, they were not fond of snitches.
Especially ones who were once revered as family.
When I arrived for my shift, covering for a colleague, I immediately noticed the bags under his eyes and the frown lines around his face. He desperately needed some peace and quiet after being shuffled around so frequently.
I watched his feeble attempts to relax through the surveillance cameras wired around the chalet. Igniting the fireplace. Watching television. Reading some novels on the bookshelf. He even brewed some tea.
But, when the clouds started to growl and the wind shook the spruce trees, all signs of serenity wiped off of his face.
Before I could call to check in, Lorenzo was at my driver’s window with a timid smile and an offer to come in. “It’s going to storm,” he said. “You’ll be safer, and warmer, inside.”
I knew he wasn’t going to go back inside by himself - not with all the ruckus going on outside.
From what I read in his file, he’d spent most of his life in the city.
I imagined being in the middle of the wilderness, far away from the rest of society, was already freaking him out enough.
Besides, it might be best I was closer to him anyway.
He was scheduled to take the stand tomorrow morning.
The last thing our department needed was for something to happen to him.
I wasn’t too worried about the mob making an attempt on his life, rather I was worried about his own well-being.
With the constant pacing and fidgeting, I could tell he was clearly feeling the pressure of the actions he was about to make.
Not only was he outing a group of dangerous people for all of their crimes, but he was also testifying against his former fiancé.
While he prepared cups of tea, he told me all about his life before he got involved with the mob.
He grew up in a working class family, attended college on a sports scholarship, and landed a high paying job at a top notch brokerage firm.
He was a normal guy before he fell head over heels for a mob heiress.
According to him, she was his doorway into the crime world, leading him into cleaning drug money, overseeing offshore accounts - and unintentionally witnessing heinous crimes.
I sat idly on the couch, sipping my tea and watching him pace back and forth as he spoke.
Listening to him lament over his mistakes was almost as interesting as the audiobook I’d been listening to in the car.
Admittedly, I always found it interesting how normal civilians got themselves into situations with dangerous people.
Though, it was funny how quickly they tried to claim their innocence when their bad deeds came back to haunt them.
Now, Lorenzo was pacing back and forth, on the verge of crying as he reminisced over the effect his words on the stand will have on his ex.
“She is one of the most incredible people in the world,” he said.
“And she really doesn’t take part in her father’s crimes.
She’s just the baby of the family - the only daughter!
Her father and older brothers kept her away from all the action.
She shouldn’t be punished because she shares the same last name as them! ”
“Mhm,” I hummed, trying to control my facial expressions.
Empathy was one of my strong suits, but I drew the line when justice was rightly due.
His girlfriend wasn’t innocent. And technically, neither was he.
In a truly just world, he would be going to jail right along with the rest of the group.
His cooperation was the only thing protecting him from the same fate.
He ceased his steps and looked at me with a fearful gaze. “She wouldn’t let them hurt me, right? I mean, she loves me.”
“I don’t know her well enough to speak on what she would or wouldn’t do,” I replied.
“But the likelihood of anyone hurting you is slim to none. This place may look secluded, but more men are patrolling the perimeters of the woods and the house is armed with security alarms and surveillance cameras. No one gets in or out of proximity without us knowing.”
“But what if-”
“You’re being paranoid,” I told him. “I understand your nerves are rattling at the thought of the trial tomorrow, but you need to keep it together. The jury won’t trust you if you’re trembling and rambling like a madman.”
Sighing, he wrapped his arms around himself to stop the tremors. “You’re right. You’re right. I think being in the middle of nowhere in a storm is freaking me out.”
I raised a brow. “You’re just now realizing that?”
He chuckled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. Taking a seat beside me, he said, “Thank you for sitting with me. I know this isn’t the best use of your time.”
“Making sure you’re alive and mentally sound is my job. For tonight, anyway.”
“How about other nights? What does the FBI have a beautiful woman like yourself doing?”
I almost laughed at the charming smile blooming on his face.
Lorenzo was a handsome man. With golden wheat skin and dark curls that clumsily fell over his green eyes, there was no question how he scored a gorgeous crime heiress.
But the sudden switch in demeanor, from nervous to flirtatious, was likely the real reason they involved him in their illegal affairs.
Men like him who easily, and quickly, adapted in their environments were the kind of people crime leaders looked for as beards to hide behind.
Staring at him now, after seeing his vulnerable side, solidified that his role with the mob was mostly his girlfriend’s doing rather than his own.
“I do investigative work in violent and organized crimes,” I explained.
“Ah, so you’re like a detective for higher profile cases?”
“Not all are high profile. Some are from cities whose cases require more manpower and resources. Cases like your bosses’.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “That’s cool.”
I glanced at the digital clock below the television and almost sighed at the nine o’ clock hour. “Not to sound like a true babysitter, but it’s getting late. You should get some rest.”
The charisma in his smile slowly vanished as he followed my gaze. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow.”
“It’ll be fine. You’ll be on the stand no longer than an hour, and then you’ll be shipped off to start your new life.”
Nodding, he fiddled with his fingers. “Do you, um…do you mind staying…overnight?”
I frowned as the trembles in his shoulders returned. Setting a hand on one to cease his movement, I replied, “Of course not. I’ll be right here. If you need anything, all you need to do is holler.”
He offered me half of a smile. “Thank you, Agent Nichols. You're the kindest agent I’ve met.”
I patted his shoulder. “Go. Lay down. Turn on some lofi beats or ocean wave sounds to help you sleep. We’ll need you to be competent and alert tomorrow.”
He rose from his seat and saluted me. “Yes, ma’am.”
I watched him walk off towards the bedroom.
Hopefully he listened to my directions and tried to get a good night’s sleep.
Our department needed his testimony to shut the lid on this case.
I didn’t contribute much to this one, but a lot of people I knew well in the unit did.
With all the horror they uncovered while investigating, they deserved to see justice served.
An uncomfortable rumble rippled through my stomach alongside the roll of thunder outside, reminding me I haven’t gotten a chance to eat a proper dinner.
I pushed myself up from the couch and strolled into the kitchen. I knew the fridge was stocked for Lorenzo’s sake. I just prayed there was something in there I liked.
I opened the door and saw some pasta-based meal preps and pre-made salads.
There were also some water bottles and soda cans sitting on the shelves.
Surprisingly, my options were looking pretty good.
I could heat up some pasta, sip on a Pepsi and read for a few hours until one of my colleagues came by for a check-in.
The pitter patter of the rain on the windows mixed with the heat of the fireplace and soft cushions of the couch set a cozy ambiance.
If I wasn’t on the clock, it’d be a perfect evening.
As I was reaching inside to grab one of the bowls of pasta, another roar of thunder crashed through the air. This time, it was accompanied by a sudden cloak of darkness.
“Shit,” I muttered. I didn’t think it was raining that bad outside. But, the cabin was an older model and might not be able to withstand the bad weather as well as we thought.
“Agent Nichols!” Lorenzo’s voice echoed from the bedroom.
“It’s alright!” I yelled back. Reluctantly, I closed the fridge and opened the drawers to search for matches. “The storm blew out the electricity! I’ll contact the command base and have them send someone out! I’m in the kitchen if you want to wait with me!”
While I waited for a response, I dug my phone out of my back pocket and shined a light on the inside of the drawers. I quickly rustled through the contents and found a small pack of matches. There were some candles in the dining room. They were initially meant for decor, but they’ll do.
My gut twisted when I didn’t hear Lorenzo. I expected the man to come racing out the bedroom and hop on my hip like a frightened child. But, the hallway beside me was empty and quiet.