Page 37 of Deadly Target
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Victor wanted her to meet his family.
Olivia’s pulse jumped around, her heart too. She’d felt things were serious, but the ins and outs of relationships were so complicated, and she was so bad at them, she was still in shock he’d suggested such a big step already.
How sad was it that this was a first for her? She’d never gotten serious enough with anyone to receive such an invitation, and even the one or two who might’ve been candidates had run the opposite direction once they knew who her father was.
Not only had Victor not seemed to care about Felix Fiorelli’s current state of incarceration or his mile-long rap sheet, he’d actually invited her over for a family picnic.
Victor had picnics? She almost chuckled out loud at the thought of Mr. Suit & Tie FBI Director hosting a backyard barbecue.
Marquita’s home was small and shabby, squeezed in among other postage-stamp sized houses on a dead-end street. A couple rusty cars missing tires and other pieces of equipment populated the tiny side yard. A bedraggled Christmas wreath hung on the cheap wooden front door, faded in the afternoon sunlight.
The porch was nothing more than a square section of concrete barely big enough for Olivia to stand on. The sound of music, heavy on the bass, seeped from inside. Olivia knocked and waited, Victor hanging near the car, his eyes scanning the area. Taz hung his head out a back window, panting and watching both of them.
After a minute, Olivia knocked again, harder this time. “Marquita? Are you home? This is Deputy US Marshal Fiorelli. I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
The music softened, the deadboltthunked. A crack appeared as a short woman with dark hair peered out at her. “What do you want?”
“I’d like some information on Frankie Molina. I know you used to be close.”
Her eyes were a honey brown, her features pretty, but haggard. “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with him anymore.”
She started to close the door but Olivia stuck her foot in the crack, keeping it open. “You know about him wanting to take over the Suarez Kings, don’t you?”
Marquita pressed on the door, squeezing Olivia’s foot. “I don’t know anything,” she insisted. “Leave me alone.”
“How about Alfonso Barone? What can you tell me about him? You’re working for him, right?”
The pressure stopped. Marquita once again appraised Liv from head to toe. “Alfie? Why would I? He’s nothing but a weasel who thinks his balls are bigger than everyone else’s.”
No argument here. “I know he’s got you pumping Frankie B for information. I want to know why.”
Marquita swore under her breath in Spanish. “I don’t know what you been smokin’,chica, but I wouldn’t give Alfie the time of day, and if I were back with Frankie, do you really think I’d be livin’ in this dive?”
Maybe that’s why she was trying to get close to Frankie again. “I have reasonable suspicion you’re buying drugs from Alfie. Maybe I should come inside and confirm that. What do you think, Marquita?”
She wondered if the woman would call her bluff. The best defense was a good offense, so Olivia beat her to it, turning toward Victor. “Bring the dog,” she said, waving at Taz. Turning back to Marquita, she hitched a thumb over her shoulder at both of them. “Good thing I brought the drug dog. You know he can sniff out things like crack and weed a hundred yards away. He’s been on alert since we came around the block, and I’m guessing he’ll find some good stuff inside this house, won’t he?”
The door crack widened slightly and Marquita’s hand shot out as if blocking Taz’s approach. “I don’t do no drugs. He’s probably smellin’ the neighbor’s stash. You don’t need to bring him in here. I swear to you, I don’t do that stuff no more.”
How many times had Olivia heard that in her line of work? She held up her phone with a picture of the woman who had met Alfie in the alley. It was grainy due to the low lighting, and the woman was mostly hidden by that damn jacket and hood, but Liv waved it in front of Marquita’s face. “I recorded your little meeting with Alfie last night. Stop playing games.”
Victor and Taz came up the sidewalk, and the woman’s eyes went wide with fear. She gave the photo a quick glance before her gaze went back to the dog, who was now straining against the leash to get to Olivia. Marquita probably assumed he was following the scent of her drugs. “That’s not me. I never left the house last night. And look,chica, that woman is way taller.”
It was true, but Liv pressed on, hoping to ruffle the woman’s feathers enough to get something out of her. “She’s wearing three-inch heels. The picture’s distorted. Are you telling me you don’t have shoes like that?”
“That’s not me, I swear. I got nothing to do with Alfie, I ain’t got no drugs, and I don’t know anything about the Suarez gang.” She glanced at Victor, then did a double take. “Hey, you’re the guy that actress went to see yesterday at the hospital. I saw your picture on theRed Star Reportthis morning. They said you’re getting back together.”
Red Star Reportwas a daily online gossip e-zine. Olivia frowned and glanced at Victor. He was definitely Hollywood handsome, but…
The look on his face told her this was not a mistake. Marquita was not confusing him with some headline-making actor. For a moment, Olivia struggled to put two and two together, then remembered that Victor had once dated a very famous young actress.
What was her name…?
The light bulb went off.Holy shit.
Tracee Tyson.
