Page 8 of Deadly Target
He squeezed her arm. “I appreciate that. I don’t think the SCVC Taskforce has tangled with DeStefano, but many of the criminals they go after have ties to both American and foreign mafias. Seems like everyone’s an equal opportunity employer anymore when it comes to running drugs and guns, and other crimes.”
She nodded, seeing Thomas driving past the lot. A For Sale sign was taped in the back window of the older sports car. “Taz can come home with me. When you’re ready for a break, come over.”
“It’s going to be a long night. I appreciate you taking care of him. I usually have my neighbor let him out when I’m pulling an all-nighter, but he’ll be happy with you.”
She reached up and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Keep me updated and I’ll expect you for breakfast, if not before. That’s an order. You have to eat, even if you don’t sleep.”
He gave her a tired smile. “Text me your address.”
She led Taz to the passenger side of her car. “You don’t have it?”
“Should I?”
“A blue-chip agent like you? I expect you ran a background check on me the night we met. You probably know more about me than my mother does, although she doesn’t speak to me much anymore.”
He chuckled. “Hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t even look at your Facebook page.”
Her shock was genuine. “I don’t have one, but I do have a pretty extensive file with the Justice Department. You might want to check it out. I’ve been told it’s better than reality TV.”
He raised one brow. “I see reality TV every day on the streets. I’d rather get to know you in person, rather than by some dry, textbook file.”
Considering he knew her intimately, she took that as a compliment that he also wanted to become familiar on other levels. Yes, they’d been texting and talking since that holiday party, but they hadn’t yet gone diving into either of their pasts.
Emotional dumpster diving, her college friend, Mandy, had called it. While few people’s pasts were bright and shiny, some had a lot of gross, smelly issues they would rather keep hidden in a garbage can. Liv fell into that category.
She opened the car door and let Taz hop onto the seat. “See you for breakfast. I’ll text you the address. I’m not far from Cooper and Celina’s.”
He waved and she drove off.
She sang along with her playlist as she finagled her car out of the city and onto the freeway heading north. Streetlights came on as darkness stole its way over the land. She opened the passenger window, allowing Taz to stick his head out.
A warmth infiltrated her chest as she thought about the fact Victor hadn’t investigated her. With most men, she would’ve doubted his sincerity, but the director was different. She trusted him on many levels, and that was no small feat in her world. When you learned your father was a gangster as a kid, it was like finding out Santa Claus wasn’t real.
She didn’t trust anyone, especially those who claimed to care for her. Knowing she could trust Victor was better than gold.
But could she? The JD didn’t have her investigating him for no reason. They hadn’t shared any specifics on why they suspected foul play, and she had asked to no avail. The Justice Department was like God, moving in mysterious ways.
Still, it was in Victor’s nature to be inquisitive and protective of his own boundaries, so it really wouldn’t have surprised her if he had a complete file on her somewhere in his desk. Knowing him, he kept all the intel inside his head. But if he said he hadn’t done a background on her, she believed it.
She hadn’t needed to check into his past. She knew all about him, thanks to his prominence in the FBI and the way Celina had gushed about him when inviting Liv to the Christmas party. He hadn’t become the West Coast director by playing small. Everyone in law enforcement knew Victor Dupé and his impressive record against the dark underbelly of the world of violent crime.
But she’d had an agenda at that party, another reason for knowing everything about Victor. She’d had the perfect opportunity to stay close to him, like her Justice Department superior wanted, but she knew better than to push too hard. She was simply to observe, interact, and report back if she discovered anything suspicious. So far, all she had come up with only verified the fact that the director had a clean nose and deserved every one of the commendations hanging on his office wall.
She prayed it would stay that way. That Victor would go on trusting her and they could develop their relationship. Maybe he hadn’t needed to investigate her because she too, had a bit of notoriety. Tinker Bell, they called her, because she was the daughter of Felix “The Hook” Fiorelli. She hated it, as much as she did the reason for the moniker, but it had stuck, even in the US Marshal Service. No one dared say it to her face, but she heard it whispered behind her back.
Her father, and the Chicago crime syndicate he’d ran with when she was a child, had given her the fuel to become who she was. She had built her reputation with one goal in mind—wiping out the mob. From the eastern shores of America to the west, she was on a mission.
Tinker Bell that, you pieces of shit.
Alfie was going to help her with that. She’d been grooming him for the past five months. She was closer than ever to uncovering the final nails to put in Gino DeStefano’s coffin. The men he had working to expand his empire in California would also go down, if she had any say in the matter. If she cut off the head of the snake, it would die.
Her house was dark when she pulled up. She hadn’t left lights on, hoping she would be spending the night with Victor. Using an app on her phone, she disengaged the security system and lit the place up. Taz sniffed at all the new smells and she finally took him into the tiny backyard so he could pee.
Back inside, she cooked hamburger for him and gave him water. While he investigated the house, she put in a call to Alfie.
It rang three times on his end and she hung up. She waited a minute and called again, doing the same. That was their signal. Then she waited for him to call her back.
After five minutes, she grew frustrated, but this wasn’t abnormal. He might be in a meeting, or, for all she knew, on the job. She’d like to believe he was home with his daughter, reading her a book. When she was very young, her father had often read to her at night before bed. Her favorite stories had been fairy tales. He’d liked those too.
