Page 28 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

He’s been pissing us off, as well. But Torres has a pretty solid security system and a masterful hacker working for him. Something the FBI doesn’t know is that he’s been backed by the Yakuza. He owns several planes that can fly out anywhere, carrying whatever cargo he pleases. He delivers weapons to Japan and they help him stay under the radar while offering protection. It’ll be hard to take him down. But I welcome the challenge.

I spend about two hours perusing the files until my phone dings with a text from Nicholas.

Nicholas: What’s a shadow doing out in the open?

Me: Not sure what you mean by that, Don.

Nicholas: You’re at the FBI office. What the hell’s going on, Dominic?

I exhale softly. Not sure how he found out so fast, but it’s a little inconvenient.

Me: I’m working on a little incognito mission.

Nicholas: Without consulting me? I thought your identity was a secret.

I clench my jaw before replying.

Me: It is.

Which is why I’m cosplaying as Dominic Hale, with a fake identity, social security number, and background to boot.

Nicholas: What are you planning?

Me: I figured we’d have a better chance of catching Torres if I worked with the Feds.

It’s not an outright lie. Torres is my excuse, my cover for why I’m really here.

Nicholas: So you decided to walk into the eye of the storm.

Me: A little dramatic, Ramirez. I took the necessary precautions. It’ll be fine.

Nicholas: It had better be.

I roll my eyes at that. No other texts come in and I place my phone face down on the desk, my focus returning to the files. I switch on the laptop, logging into the FBI database. A lot of things are encrypted or classified. I could probably breakinto whatever I wanted to, but that would only draw attention—which is the last thing I need.

So I ignore anything that doesn’t concern me, only looking through cases I’m authorized to. A couple hours later, I’m pretty tired and hungry. It’s 2 p.m. when I finally look away from the laptop. I smile to myself before getting to my feet.

Madelyn’s office is at the end of the hallway. I walk toward it with purpose, knocking on her door and waiting to hear her soft voice asking me to come in.

“We’re going out for lunch,” I announce as I open the door.

She looks up from the screen in front of her and her green eyes immediately narrow, fire blazing in their depths.

“No way in hell,” she spits.

She’s still pissed. Good. I like her like this. Raw, unfiltered. It makes me hard. I pause, staring down at her. She’s taken off the brown jacket she had on and the first two buttons of the cream shirt she’s wearing are unbuttoned, revealing her smooth skin and some cleavage.

Her hair is piled up in a messy ponytail. She looks relaxed, at ease. Or at least she did until I walked in.

I take a seat in front of her, my eyes roaming as I take in her office. It suits her personality. From the messy table down to the twinkling fairy lights in the corner and the cactus on her desk. Seriously, though, what the hell is she doing with a cactus?

“Dominic,” she snaps, drawing my attention, “could you please leave?”

“I love it when you beg me.” I smirk.

She shuts her eyes in frustration before rubbing the side of her head with her thumb. When her eyes open again, she doesn’t look any less calm.

“What can I do to get rid of you?”

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