Page 4 of Dominance

The glow of the boulangerie across from my door flickers as I step out of the alley, my guard dropping while I think of my to-do list. My reaction is a split-second late when a figure in a coat steps out beside me, reaching for me.

Clapping a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming, I unload the can in my hand.

“Shit! Whoa, whoa!” The older man’s voice is gruff and panicked as he leaps back out of the path of the cloud of burning haze.

I’m running the other direction with my scarf pulled up over my mouth and nose a second later.

“Stop! Uh,arrêt!” His French is terrible. “I just want to talk!”

Wait …

English.

American.

It gives me pause but I’m still moving away when he moves to follow, calling after me. “Please, I’m not going to hurt you. Name’s Jim Weller. I’m a cop.”

“Bullshit!” I’m rattling off before I can stop myself, still making a beeline toward my door. “Leave me alone or I’ll scream, and you do not want my Russian neighbors to come down here!”

It’s a bluff, but the two sons of the family are burly soccer players, and some of my neighbors would come out to see if I made enough noise.

“I’ve got a badge.”

“Don’t care.”

“Look, Miss Abate, I need to talk to you about your father.”

I stop dead in my tracks. He knows my last name.

“Claude is a criminal. Go talk to the gendarmerie. He’s probably in jail again.”

“Not your stepfather, Gloria. Your real dad. Domenico Vipera.”

Something drops in my chest like a sack of bricks.

I don’t recognize the last name, but that’s definitely my birth father’s name. Domenico.

“Stay back. But show me your badge.” I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s stupid. Dangerous.

But …

“Here, look.” The wallet flops down, exposing the badge and the letters FBI. He’s tall. Graying. Reminds me of that old TV detective show Mom used to watch. Kojak?

“FBI? You expect me to believe that?”

“I know…I’m out of my jurisdiction. But I needed to gather intel. We think your father is planning something. I do, anyway.”

“Sorry to break it to you, my father is dead.” I huff, shaking my head. Just some wack job, probably trying to scam me. “Do not come closer, or I’ll call the real police, you hear me?”

“I won’t. I just need to make sure he hasn’t tried to contact you. He’s a dangerous man, Gloria. He went missing a while back. And now we’re getting signs that he might be back on the scene.”

“Scene?”

“Yes. Organized crime. Your father was, is, in the mob.”

“The mob? The mafia?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes. He was a major player in one of the most influential families in the world. The Diamantes. Does any of that ring any bells?”

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