Page 70 of Her Dark Salvation

“Uh… Thank you?”

“Must have been a big adjustment coming to work for DEI after being in academia for so long.”

He smiled the kind of smile you’d expect from someone who wants you to think they’re on your side. Someone who wants you to feel comfortable sharing war stories. Someone who wants you to admit something you don’t want to admit.

My brain snapped into gear.Do Not Name DEI as Your Current Employer.Marco’s NDA rescued me from paralysis.

“I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss my employment status.” The words came out more stilted than they’d sounded in my head, but I was damn proud of myself for saying anything at all.

Agent Johnson’s mouth quirked as if he was trying to force his sneer into a smile. “There’s no harm in discussing your employment, but there is harm in obstructing justice.”

My temper stirred. I stepped forward and lifted my chin. “That sounded a lot like a threat, Agent Johnson. You’re fishing, but I’m not taking your bait. Now, kindly get lost.”

The black Range Rover pulled up to the curb. Paulie jumped out and met us where we stared each other down. He offered his arm to me and a death glare to Agent Johnson. I wrapped my shaking fingers around his arm, and he led me to the car.

“We’ll talk soon, Dr. Barone,” Agent Johnson called after us.

I ignored him, climbed into the backseat, and stared out the window in silent shock as we made our way to the North End.

* * *

Vesuvio lookeddifferent in the late afternoon. No inviting glow from behind tinted windows. No sexy, erupting sign. Just muted black trim outlining the windows and door of an old brick building topped by a dull, red marquee. Austere and functional instead of flashy and glamorous.

Paulie led me to the back of the building and up a set of wooden stairs to a second story landing where one of Marco’s sunglassed sentinels stood guard. He punched a code into a panel on the left of the steel door. It beeped, turned the panel light green, and with a click and a buzz, the door unlocked. He opened it and ushered us inside.

The upstairs of Vesuvio looked like what I imagined the downstairs looked like during the day. The mahogany floors that had appeared so sleek and black at night were scratched and dented, and the wine-colored leather of the booths was cracked and worn. A carbon copy of the downstairs bar sat directly above its partner, stacked with the same top-shelf wine and liquor.

The difference? Six card tables occupied the space between the bar and the booths, and two pool tables replaced the high tops around the fireplace. Televisions were strategically placed in every corner of the room and at each end of the bar, and a stripper pole was centered in front of the benches along the back wall.

I was so out of my element.

A bartender leaned against the counter watching soccer. Two more security guards stood on either side of the front wall behind the pool tables. And in the center of the room, Marco, Vito, Luca, and two men I recognized from the last time I’d been to Vesuvio played poker. Marco and Luca smoked cigars, and a bottle of whiskey sat among a chaos of cards, chips, and stacks of cash.

Vito’s head snapped up when we walked past the top of the spiral staircase. He lifted his chin, and each man at the table trained their dark eyes on where I stood clutching my printout in a shaking hand.

I waved awkwardly, shifting my weight between my feet. Understanding and compassion tugged at the corner of Marco’s lips. He stood, walked over to me, and placed a hand on my hip and a kiss on my forehead.

“I missed you,” he whispered, and my heart melted along with my nerves.

He introduced me to Angelo and Carmine, then led me down a short hallway beyond the pool tables. He rapped twice on the door before opening it. A woman with bleach blonde hair in sweats and a tank top looked up from where she sat on a couch watching a big screen TV. Marco jerked his head toward the door, and she turned off the TV and scooted out of the room giving me a warm smile as she passed.

“We can talk in here,” he said and shut the door.

Even though I knew no one else was in there, my eyes darted around the room. We were talking about corporate larceny, and I’d achieved new levels of paranoia after my encounter with Agent Johnson.

“It’s okay,” he said and twirled a finger. “It’s soundproofed. And swept for bugs every week.”

My eyebrows reached for my hairline, and I shook my head in disbelief.

“An FBI agent stopped me outside Terme while I was waiting for Paulie.” The words flew from my lungs, and my voice trembled in their wake. An ache formed in my throat, emotion threatening to spill out, a delayed reaction to an encounter that had left me rattled and confused.

“Cazzo,” Marco swore and ran a hand down his face. “I could strangle Vinnie right now,” he growled.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Vieni qui,” he said and opened his arms.

I went to him, and he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

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