Page 9 of Out of Control

“They did. Leo Lombardi last used his phone from his apartment last night to make a fuck-date on a dating app and didn’t even have it on him at the airport.”

“He used a burner phone then.”

Mark nodded. “Most likely. But there’s no finding it now. The TSA officer who held him didn’t confiscate a phone and didn’t mention seeing him dump one.”

“The officers there are a fucking joke.”

“No kidding. But there’s no phone on Lombardi’s end to tie him to that text.”

“Fuck.” What else could go wrong in this case? “Any good news?”

“We got the surveillance feed set up at the Morelli & Morelli law offices.”

“That is good news. We can go in guns blazing if Antonio Conti shows his face visiting his uncles. Maybe even bring in at least one Morelli on harboring a fugitive.”

Antonio Conti was wanted for the murder of my CI, Mario Costa, before he ever pulled those stunts in the airport. His case would be open and closed…once we finally got our hands on him. Leo Lombardi was proving slicker.

“I also got wind that one of the guys over in Vice had been after Lombardi for a while, and he took it upon himself to set up surveillance on his apartment when he got off last night.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to see pictures or videos of that ugly fucker getting off with his date last night.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Got off without charges filed last night. What was his name? Nando Crevallo. I’ll hit him up, see if he knows anything useful. As for other things being useful for the case…”

The way he trailed off made me nervous.

“What?” I asked, wary of where this was going.

“I heard the woman Conti tried to shoot took him the fuck down, man. One move. I’d kill to see the video. Think you can use your federal credentials to get me a copy? For research purposes, of course. Studying the enemy.”

I thought of how she held her own against me just as easily. That could be embarrassing if it got out.

“Nope. I have to save my favors for when I really need them.”

“Maybe we could use the video to identify her?”

I shook my head. I had a feeling that she was pretty damn thorough. She didn’t want to be found, and it would stay that way. For now.

four

Athena

Ihad two leads go belly up on me in two days.

While I could hardly blame that asshole FBI guy for the Leo Lombardi date-night mess, I could—and would—blame him for losing Antonio. Who knew what kind of information I could have gotten out of him if I wasn’t interrupted?

And I needed information. Solid, irrefutable information that could bring the Morellis down, one man at a time. I was alone in this world, no one to look after or care for, so all I cared about was taking those men down.

They were going to pay for everything, but not today.

Today I met the Morelli brothers for the first time. I’d done plenty of research and knew what to expect of them, how to present myself, and what buttons to press to intrigue them and make them want to keep talking to me. I knew my way in.

I knew that Carlo Morelli had a daughter a few years younger than me, Bianca Rose, and after finding her social media profilesI bought a box of hair dye and a straightener so I could look sympathetic to him, reminding him of his daughter.

I knew Angelo was married; photos of him showed a wedding ring, and he’d mentioned having dinner waiting at home for him in an interview once. I couldn’t find any pictures of the wife, but the “dinner waiting” implied that he liked a traditional woman, so I dressed (relatively) conservatively in a plain blue blouse with no cleavage showing and a navy blue skirt that ended just above the knees.

Phone records showed that Carlo spoke to their sister in San Diego all the time. She had just come to town with her son, Antonio, two days prior. It was pure luck that I found the texts between Leo and “Antonio” confirming they would be meeting up soon to go over some job, and that I got Antonio’s phone number from that exchange. I used it to track his phone to the airport to pump him for information before he ever met with Leo. I thought it was luck at the time—if you count blackmailing my neighbor in the apartment across the hall into illegally giving me information from his job at the phone company “luck”—but now that the opportunity was squandered it felt like a mistake.

I sighed, giving my hair a pat, trying to get used to the color and texture. Bianca Rose had straight brown hair, so I flat-ironed my curls for the first time in a decade. It just feltwrongto see the stick-straight hair falling in my face. Both the color and the style would wash out, but it still unnerved me.

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