Page 11 of Vicious Behaviors
Haynes’s smile is instant.
“We need proof to link Marcello to Father Donagh’s murder. We need motive, means, and opportunity to build a strong case against him. In no shape or form can it be circumstantial. We don’t want his father to use his money or political influence to throw out the case before it even gets to court. Marcello Romano deserves to be behind bars. And once we achieve that, the house of cards the Romanos have built over the years will start to fall down.” He continues to grin as if he could almost taste Vincent Romano’s demise. “Until this point, we have been unsuccessful in obtaining CI’s. Their code of honor binds every soldier andcapofrom ever becoming an informant. But once they see their boss vulnerable, bleeding, they will turn on him. Of that, I’m sure. The weaker ones will want to turn state’s evidence and retire in WITSEC, while his strongercaposwill use us to their advantage in the hopes that they can take over. Vincent Romano’s reign will end. And it all starts with his son. It all starts with Marcello. He’s the key. Our way in.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I mutter, wondering how the hell I’m going to pull this off.
Haynes doesn’t smile this time.
“This isn’t like your last assignment, Agent Graham. You’re not dealing with low-rung thugs orBratvamuscle. Don’t let his good looks fool you, either. This man was raised inside the Outfit. He was born into silence, loyalty, and blood. If he figures we’re onto him, he won’t hesitate. He will kill you. Your family won’t even have a body to mourn over.”
“I can handle him,” I retort with steel in my voice.
“Don’t underestimate him. He didn’t just inherit this empire—he was chosen. Over his older brother. Overseasonedcaposwho have more than earned the loyalty and respect from Vincent’s men. That has to mean something. We may not know why, but if Vincent picked him above all, then Marcello is cut from the same cloth he is. Calculating. Cunning. And deadly.”
“Understood.”
“And whatever you do, don’t get attached,” Haynes adds, standing. “These people will eat you alive if you let them.”
I stand up from my seat with a serious gaze locked on him, and say, “I don’t intend to, sir. If I have it my way, every last Romano will live out the rest of their lives in a federal prison.”
“Of that, we are in agreement,” he says, holding his hand out for me to shake.
I respectfully extend my hand and shake his on autopilot, only for Haynes to keep his grip on mine as he states, “This is a make-or-break case, Agent Graham. Do your job correctly, and no assignment will be off limits to you. Your career and notoriety in the Bureau will skyrocket. But fail—”
“I don’t fail,” I interrupt before he finishes his threatening remark.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he replies, finally releasing my hand. “And good luck. You’ll need it.”
Chapter 3
Isobel
After receiving my undercover package, complete with fake ID, burner phone, and a few other Bureau-issued toys, the first thing I did was toss most of it in the trash.
Special Agent Haynes, my supervisor, seems convinced the cover they’ve cooked up for me is the best way to infiltrate the Romanos’ world.
Me? I have my doubts. Serious ones.
According to the Bureau, they want me to become Sister Isabelle Moretti, part-time nun, part-time substitute teacher at Sacred Heart Academy. The plan is to make connections through Marcello Romano’s younger siblings, hoping that somehow, I’ll work my way closer to him.
Cute idea in theory. But in practice? A damn joke.
Look, I’ve got nothing against nuns. God bless ‘em, but I very much doubt that someone like Marcello would spill all his secrets over holy water and English Lit worksheets. Not only that, but if Haynes’s suspicions are correct and Marcello really did kill a priest, then the last person he’d cozy up to is a nun.Especially one lurking around his younger brothers and baby sister like a damn creeper.
There has to be a better way in. A smarter, easier way. I just have to find it. That’s why I ditched the ID, the habit, and the whole sanctified charade before Haynes could say ‘Amen.’
Besides, the idea was not only ludicrous, it was also damn risky. I’ve lived in Chicago most of my life. South Side born and bred. That was until college took me to Georgetown, and the U.S. Army and Quantico shaped me into the woman I am today. The risk of running into someone who recognized me while I was using a made-up name accompanied by a nun’s habit, no less, was just too high. All it would take is one old friend from my past—or even a vague high school acquaintance—squinting too long at my face while dressed like Sister Lies-A-Lot, and I’d be as good as dead. One wrong smile in the wrong neighborhood, and the whole op would go up in smoke.
No. My cover has to be airtight. And the only way to do that is to keep it as close to the truth as possible. Hence why I’m sticking to my real name and my real-life backstory. The public parts of it, anyway.
If Marcello digs into my past, which I’m sure he will, he’ll find exactly what I want—just a local girl who left for college, then bounced around D.C. doing odd jobs before joining the army to get some real-world experience. He will see that I received an honorable discharge after completing two tours in Afghanistan and eventually came home to start fresh. I don’t have any social media presence to speak of since that’s the number one rule Quantico drills into us from the jump. And as for my time working for the Bureau? There’s no trace of it. Undercover agents like me don’t leave footprints since we aren’t supposed to even exist. We’re trained to be ghosts. Just like him. Just like Marcello.
Now, all I need is an angle. A way in. And wouldn’t you know it, but I may just have found one in a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the dust-covered window of DeLuca’s gym, of all places. From the intel Haynes gave me, Marcello spends most of his free time in this joint, which is owned by Carmine DeLuca, a former underboss for Salvatore Romano.
Though never prosecuted, Carmine was notorious for being one of Big Sal’s favoritecaposand a force to be reckoned with. No one dared to defy him, and though he’s long retired from the life, he still holds influential ties to thefamiglia. No surprise there, since his only son, Giovanni DeLuca, is Vincent Romano’sconsigliere,posing as the Romano family’s lawyer. And if the rumor mill is right, he even shares residence in the Romano home, wherever that may be.
This is it. This is my way in. I have to go right to the source.
Parked across the street from DeLuca’s Gym, I stay in my car with the engine off and the window cracked open just enough to let the city noise drift in. The wind cuts in through the window, laced with snow and that raw Chicago chill that never quite lets up during winter. I can hear someone shouting over a parking spot and a dog barking in the distance, while the L train rumbles overhead as if warning me to consider all my options.
