Page 57 of Of Desire And Deception

I put my knife away and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it until the pain bit into my scalp. All sanity fled my mind, and I roared into the empty space, swiping the gifts I’d brought to the floor, where they scattered across the stained carpet.

Wynn was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Hands shaking, I kept my head up as I walked away from Cosimo, determined not to turn my head and see the look on his face. It was unsettling to see him anything other than sure of himself, and his down-turned mouth and saddened eyes might be my undoing.

So I directed my eyes forward and hurried down the street, traversing several blocks out of my way to catch a bus and hopefully avoid the mafia enforcer should he decide to follow me. I knew there was no escaping him, but I needed to buy some time. That had been too close.

I’d been meeting with Agent Harris and had barely held it together when Cosimo confronted me. There was no way I could have known he’d be across town in the same area Madden scheduled for the check-in. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d made a scene in the coffee shop.

I shuddered, but it wasn’t from the cold. Misplaced shame filled me, even though I’d done nothing wrong. A part of me felt I owed loyalty to the man, and that was a natural reaction when you spent so much time with somebody. I’d learned about Cosimo’s mother and a small amount about his father. He talked about his siblings with what seemed as close to affection as he was capable of.

And it wasn’t the stuff in the dossiers for the family members. Cosimo talked about family dinners and weddings, his niece, and how Niccolò was about to become a father. He made them seem more human, like people you could relate to. The Neretti family looked less like criminal empire masterminds and more like a family doing the best they could after significant loss.

It was a dangerous train of thought to entertain, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. What had started as a quest for justice and revenge slowly morphed into undeniable physical attraction, and now something more. Whether or not I liked it, my emotions were involved, and I had doubts about whether I could put cuffs on Cosimo when it finally came down to it.

Which is why getting called in by Madden was so daunting. He’d sent Harris with the news that Agent Bogdan had disappeared. I didn’t know the man especially well, but he’d been on Madden’s team for five years. Nobody had seen Cosimo with him, and the day he didn’t check in, I’d been on a date with Cosimo. I’d told Harris that, as far as I knew, he’d been at the club the entire night. There hadn’t been time for him to kidnap and get rid of Bogdan.

My explanation wasn’t good enough, and now I had to be at the Bureau first thing in the morning. I stared out the window on the bus ride, coming up with potential scenarios when I finally came face-to-face with my boss again. Would he be able to see my true feelings?

The rest of the evening was a blur, and I broke two glasses at work before Zach finally rolled his eyes and told me to go home early. Too distracted to object, I left and stayed in a daze when I got home, worrying at my lip until I’d chewed a spot raw on the inside. It reminded me of how rough Cosimo could get, how he wasn’t afraid to draw blood.

The immediate rush of arousal was too much, and I clambered to the bathroom, stripping out of my uniform and jumping in the shower while the water was still cold. I squealed at the shock of the frigid spray, slamming my palms against the plastic shower wall when it flipped to scalding a few seconds later. Maybe I was punishing myself for my wavering loyalty to the Bureau and Trey.

After months of not finding evidence to bring me closer to exposing Cosimo and his family, I wondered if they had been involved in the explosion at the bakery. Even if they proved innocent in that matter, it didn’t absolve the family from all their other criminal activities. Nobody got away with breaking the law forever. One day, somebody would slip, and the Bureau would get what they’d been slavering over for decades.

As long as I worked at the FBI, it was my job to participate in the Neretti family's downfall. I finished my shower and climbed into bed, tossing and turning for the rest of the night, until finally falling asleep less than an hour before my alarm blared through the apartment. I tried to ignore it, but my neighbor didn’t, pounding on the wall and yelling at me to turn it off.

With a groan, I rolled over and found my phone, swiping across the screen and squinting at the time. Seven. With the travel time, it would take me an hour to get to the office. I threw the covers back and slipped from the bed, making it up before I went through my morning routine and made myself presentable for work. I had nothing like my usual slacks and blouses, so I settled on a pair of black jeans and a white sweater. My winter boots would have to suffice for footwear.

In case anybody was watching, I pulled my hair back in my typical ponytail and grabbed my coat and purse, taking my usual route to the bus stop. I glanced down every alleyway and kept an eye out for cars I didn’t recognize. It was probably useless to do that in Chicago, but I needed something to occupy me.

I took two buses, hopping off one and walking a few blocks to another as a precaution, and arrived at the Bureau five minutes after eight. Close enough.

Unlike a typical nine-to-five job, there were always people moving around the building, but most were just getting to work. I took the elevator up to my floor and wiped my damp palms on my jeans before tapping on Madden’s door.

He had the blinds pulled but called out gruffly, “Come in.”

“Good morning, sir,” I greeted him, plastering a mild smile on my face as I pushed the door open.

He nodded and pointed to an empty seat across from his desk. “Sit.”

A woman I didn’t recognize occupied the other chair, but her navy suit dress screamed that she worked for the Bureau. Her short blonde hair was styled close to her head, and she wore minimal makeup. Her hands rested lightly on the chair’s armrests, relaxed down to her fingertips with bare nails.

“Harris said you wanted to see me,” I offered, breaking the tense silence as I sat and crossed my legs.

“Yeah.” Madden motioned toward the woman next to me and stood, moving toward the door. “Ms. Spencer has come to ask you a few questions. You’ll answer them, and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” I intoned. “Do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m here to discuss your assignment,” Ms. Spencer answered as the door clicked shut behind Madden. She pulled a tablet out of the bag at her feet. Her smile looked every bit as fake as mine, and she spoke in that slow, soft manner that could only belong to—

“I’m a board-certified psychologist with the Bureau, and I often help assess agents when they’ve been undercover for extended periods of time.”

“So you’re here to find out if I’ve been compromised,” I concluded, crossing my arms over my chest.

She relaxed back in her seat. “Not necessarily. Why don’t you tell me about Cosimo Neretti.”

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