Page 50 of Mob Bride

“I already have proof she’s not who she says she is.”

That makes my brow furrow. What could he possibly have on me that would refute any denial I make? Bartlomiej wonders the same thing.

“Spill it. Obviously, you’ve been keeping these little gems to yourself. What do you have against her?”

“She’s been sneaking out of her condo by going out on the balcony and easing in through the window of the vacant unit beside her. It’s right next to the emergency stairs. She’s timed it for when the guards do a sweep to the elevators and back. She knows their routine.”

“How do you know she does this?”

“Because I put a camera near the ceiling right outside that door, and I have a camera at the exit to the street. Did you know she has a car?”

“What? No, she doesn’t. I would know that. There’s nothing registered under her name. My men have never seen her go to one. She always uses public transportation, or she lets me send a driver.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. She parks it two blocks away. She doesn’t want us to know. But that’s how she slips away to meet her handlers.”

“Handlers? What the hell, Jacek? What are you getting at? That’s more than her just working for the O’Rourkes.”

Oh, motherfucker. He knows. Tomorrow’s gonna be the day of my death, if not tonight.

“Bartek, she’s a federal agent.”

“What? That’s fucking impossible!”

“No, it’s not. I have the footage of it all. Two nights ago, she slipped out and met her handler at a wooded area near McCarren Park. You know there’re plenty of trees near there. I watched her meet with a woman. They spoke for about ten minutes. What’s even more interesting than that is Shane O’Rourke watched that meeting. Then he led her to one of their warehouses. They were inside that building for nearly two hours. He was probably fucking her the entire time because the kiss they shared when they went back to their cars wasn’t one you give your brother or your cousin. They practically devoured each other. I’m surprised she didn’t get on her knees for him right then and there. I watched her hand run over his junk, and his hand went down her pants. Whatever they did for those two hours in the warehouse, it wasn’t enough for them.”

It’s all true. We left each other just as worked up as when we arrived. The need wasn’t sated, even though we had the best sex of my life.

“So, Bartek, what’re you going to do? I’ve already sent the photos to you in your email.”

“What? What the fuck were you thinking, sending them through email?”

“I’m thinking the O’Rourkes should know we’re onto them. We watch them scramble to see how they try to fix this. If she suddenly disappears, we’ll know I’m right. That she’s working with them, and that it’s not another—coincidence.” He pauses for effect.

The snideness in it makes my upper lip curl in disgust. He’s always been such a smug motherfucker. He thinks he knows so much. Unfortunately, in this case, he does. I’m on my laptop tolisten to the conversation. I open a secure browser on my VPN and pull up the three email accounts Bartek uses and thinks no one but Jacek knows about. I sit back in my seat in shock as I look at the photos attached in an email.

It is all so incriminating. Not just the photos of Shane and me outside the warehouse. There’re photos from us getting in the car at the lumberyard. There’re photos from us speaking after he confronted me outside the subway. There’re photos of him going into my apartment. There’re photos of everything. Any time I’ve been anywhere near Shane.

There’re also photos of him staked out in a car. The landmarks make it obvious he’s near my place and Bartek’s. The one thing I don’t see are photos of an empty car that must have the surveillance cameras Shane described. At least that remains a secret for them.

From the way Bartlomiej swears repeatedly, I know he’s looking at the same thing I am. He switches back and forth between English and Polish. He utters Polish phrases the typical person wouldn’t know because they’re that vulgar. Those are exactly what I studied to make sure I understood for moments just like this—or at least close to it. Never did I imagine my cover would be so spectacularly blown.

I’ve got to let my handlers know I’ve been made. I need a plan for retreat if I can’t convince Bartlomiej that Jacek is making all this up. The one advantage is none of these photos have a time stamp. I could claim these were from before I dated Bartlomiej. Yeah, the ones from the lumberyard and trail are damning, but I’ll claim Shane isn’t over me, and he’s stalking me. I hate throwing him under the bus, and it’s not because I’m putting the job ahead of him. It’s to buy me time to let Shane know what’s happening, so his family can prepare. There’s no way I’ll hide whatever lies I spew. Shane and his family are better equipped to handle this than I am on my own.

Obviously, I’m going to have to tell a selective truth to my handlers. They can’t know why my cover was blown until I can come up with a conceivable excuse for involving the O’Rourkes as well. That excuse is something I’ll form with Shane.

“So, Bartlomiej, I ask you again. What are you going to do about this? Now, do you believe me?”

Silence. No more swearing. No muttering. Nothing. Just silence for several minutes. I wonder what Bartlomiej’s thinking. I know Jacek triggered the psychopath in my pseudo-boyfriend. The quieter he is, the more men fear him. They know his mind’s working overtime as he devises punishments to rival any military regime’s dictator. I am going to die.

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I can’t pack up my apartment in case Bartlomiej and Jacek or men they send come to check. The agency will take care of cleaning up the safe house and here. But I get my personal effects together and put them into the false panel hiding place I created in the back of my closet. There’s a tiny latch that’s next to impossible to find if you don’t know where it is. Even I have to run my fingers over the wall a bit to find it.

I’ve just showered and put on my makeup. I’m getting ready to face the day. I plan to go to Bartlomiej’s on my own terms. I spent the time while I packed the few things I could, coming up with excuses about how I was involved with Shane before I was involved with Bartlomiej. That Jacek has proved yet again he doesn’t like me. That he’s jealous of the attention Bartlomiej pays me. That he believes any woman makes them weak. That he would hate any woman Bartlomiej dates.

I know Bartlomiej’ll claim he’s dated other women in the past who didn’t bother Jacek, and I’ll ask him which of them he’s asked to move in with him. I know he’s “kept”—air quotes—other women and put them in apartments. I know he’s provided them with clothes and cell phones, but I don’t think he’s ever pushed so hard to have one of them as involved in his life as he has me. I don’t know if he loved any of them or told them he loved them, but I know his feelings now are true since he’s so impatiently waiting to fuck me. I have to be careful and spin the tail in a way that remains plausible. This might be the most challenging acting role of my life.

I hear my front door open. It’s not the middle of the night when I know men used to slip in to check on me to make sure I was really there. It’s been months since Bartlomiej did that, but it’s obvious he’ll start again. I’m always cautious to ensure my nightly escapades get me back in time for any random bed check.

But who the hell is that?

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