Covert (The Clans Book 9) Page 2

  She comes back a few moments later, her face clean and her dress as clean as it’s going to get right now. In her hand she holds some wet paper towels. "I thought you'd want to get clean too," she says as she comes at me with them. I stand still, almost numb, letting her clean me up. When she’s done, I look down at her and really look at her for the first time since the blast.

  I can’t believe I could have lost her in that blast without even paying attention. Today, at the wedding, when I first saw her in that dress, something inside me snapped. I had always been teased about the way she looked at me and obsessed over me. She was a silly little girl, just my sister’s best friend. But now, I can see it. Her tiny little waist, her blemish free, tan skin, her long legs, her silky long hair. She is gorgeous and definitely not a little girl anymore even if she is younger than me.

  There is some cheesy classical music coming faint through the speaker. I put my hand out and offer it to her. "It would be a shame for that dress to go to waste."

  "In a hospital?" she questions, but takes my hand anyway. I pull her close up against me, my hand on her back, my fingers entwined in hers tightly. "You're only doing this because you feel sorry for me," she whispers, her head falling against my shoulder perfectly.

  "No, I was going to ask you to dance today anyway," I whisper back. We sway like that for a moment before a doctor bursts through the double doors. We break apart like a couple of kids caught in the act and wait for the news.

  "She will be okay. She is pregnant with twins. I am not sure if you were aware. But the stress made her blood pressure plummet. She will need to rest up and take care of herself."

  I nod, glad that it's good news. Not a good time to be pregnant, though. "Thanks, doc."

  Chapter 2

  Isabella

  My phone rings, and I look at it to see it’s my father and fucking ignore it. I used to be daddy’s little girl. A good girl. A virgin. All those things that I’m not anymore. Well, I’m still a virgin, but only for now.

  A year under the thumb of the CIA and trying to get a read on the most dangerous crime family in the United States hardens a person, even little old me. Sure, I still cry when people die in front of me, like Marta. I would still be lost if Aria died ... or Marcel, but that’s my limit now. It is myself I am trying to save here and no one else. And it is not my dignity or my body or any of those superficial things I intend to save because I know when this is all over if I don’t fail, it is only my life I will escape with.

  I chew on my pen as I go over the list in front of me detailing some of Falcone’s routines. He is a hard man to pin down and for good reason. He has been in this game for a long time and knows how to not be caught or found. But humans are creatures of habit, and there had to be some constants for Franco, especially as he got older and passed the torch to his many sons.

  Sure enough, the private investigator I hired through my connections with the Clans, actually using Funar funds I might add, called me to tell me the two constants, and one is coming up. Now, I am in a hotel room in New York, registered under a fake name as I psych myself up to go and finally meet the man that I am supposed to be taking down. I have dragged my feet far too long trying to keep up appearances with the Clans and my father. I know I don’t have a lot of time left to find my in, and luckily, this man likes his women just like any other powerful sleezeball.

  Every third Friday Franco Falcone goes to get a massage at a seedy looking place in China Town that I am sure specializes in much more than just loosening tense back muscles. I intend to be in the area at the right time and run into him, literally. Maybe then he will admire and remember the pretty face the FBI agents seem to think that I have that I can use to my advantage. I don’t want to suddenly show up in his life with no explanation of how I got there. That is going to blow my cover faster than anything else.

  It’s bad enough I have to come to terms of the idea that virginal me, yes I am still a virgin, has to seduce this old asshole into liking me enough to let me in on his life so I can get the dirt that will dig me out of the shit pile my father buried me in.

  I get up and get dressed, taking a page out of the book of Asian fashion, and put on a grey fitted suit jacket over a white button down and a tiny pink mini skirt that flares out. I look like some adult version of a Japanese school girl, even finishing it off with a small designer briefcase.

  I put my hair up tight, hoping maybe I can pass for a worker in the area, maybe coming for a quick bite out of my office in Manhattan.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk out the door and pretend to be someone else. I am going to be doing a lot of that now to get through this.

  Manhattan is bustling as expected. I don’t know how the king and queen live here and raise children in a place like this. I have always seen myself in the suburbs in Cali, sunshine, beaches, and quiet streets, my kids riding their bikes with neighborhood kids.

  I sigh, wiping my mind clean of that idea. I don’t even know if it's anywhere in reach anymore. I don’t think I am going to make it out of this with my virginity intact, and then I will be ruined for any Romanian man who might want me, even the one who I thought for one moment in that hospital might feel something after all these years.

  I look down as the PI texts me, seeing that he has eyes on Falcone and his bodyguards. This is going to be fun trying to run into him even with his guards there.

  I cross the street and turn the corner into China Town, and I put my cell to my ear, pretending to talk to a girlfriend. I am laughing and chatting as I barrel down the sidewalk, my eyes scanning once to make sure I am in his path. Then, I act like a dumb bimbo, flailing around “Oh my god! Really!”

  Right before he makes it in front of the massage parlor I smack right into him. “Oh my god, I have to go.” I pretend to hang up my phone and tuck it in my jacket pocket before looking up at Falcone with a sparkle in my eye before looking at his bodyguards as they tense.

  “I am so sorry, sir. I should have been watching where I was going. It has been a long day at work already and … I didn’t hurt you did I?” I look at the two men in suits with fear, though I have had enough training by now to at least knock them out for a time.

  “No, Miss, I’m perfectly fine.” He looks to the two men with a nod, and they fall back. “I just want to make sure you are okay. Not every man would be so nice as me, but I can see you are stressed. Same here.” He points to the massage parlor and I try not to gag knowing that it is so much more than that in there.

  “Oh, thanks. I’m fine. Just need some espresso and then maybe a glass of wine once I get off today.” I try to dismiss him and go around him but am both relieved and disgusted when his arm reaches out to touch my shoulder. This is my in.

  “Why don’t you take my business card? A girl like you young and all that potential, maybe we can find something less stressful for you.” He winks and hands it to me.

  I look down and read the name. “Thank you, Mr. Falcone.”

  “Oh, please, call me Franco, Miss…?”

  “Teresa, my name’s Teresa. I’ll have to think on this.” I flash him a bright smile and know that his eyes are on my ass hoping my short skirt will blow up and give him a view as I walk away.

  By the time I get back to my hotel room, my phone is ringing off the hook. This time, I know exactly who it is. Z is what she calls herself, my handler, and she is pissed.

  "Why the hell do I not have anything from you on Falcone yet? You have been on this case for a year. I know you've needed time for training and to go to all these damn weddings for the Clans, but this is my head on the chopping block too."

  "Calm down, I made some progress today. I needed to make sure I had his routine down. I need to insert myself in his life in a way that’s not suspicious," I tell her, but the panic doesn't stop.

  "That’s all fine and great, but a year is too damn long, Zugra. If I don’t have a good report from you in a week, then I will be forced to tell them to go live with all your indiscretions. There
is more than just that shipment against you, and you know it. Your father’s been doctoring books and you have been alongside him for years."

  "Yeah, I get it," I interrupt her. "I ran into him in China Town and got his business card. I will be using it." My phone beeps in and I look to see that it is Marcel. Interesting. "Look, I've gotta go. You'll have what you want, just chill your fuckin' tits," I tell her and hang up, switching over to Marcel.

  My worry is getting the better of me that maybe something is going on with Aria. "Hello, Marcel? What’s wrong?"

  "You and I need to talk." His tone is dark, and I can’t help but feel I am in deep shit.

  Chapter 3

  Marcel

  I can't believe I came all the way to New York to meet with Stefan Dalca. In all honesty, this is far for him too. His territory is south of the border. He lives outside of Rio, so why he has called me all the way here, I don’t know, unless it has to do with Ion and Mariana. But as I go into the seedy joint in the Bronx that has me checking for my Glock in the middle of the day, I somehow doubt it. It’s a converted old saloon that is now clearly the hang out of the bums and low lives of the eastern United States, the place where people get drunk during the day to forget that they sleep on a piece of cardboard at night or had to watch someone get shot up on the streets.

  The only reason I even agreed to such a meeting was because he said he had pertinent information that was life or death for someone close to me. He wouldn’t say any more.

  Stefan has always had a flare for the dramatics, so I am not surprised at how he decided to tell me, but this better be damn good.

  He is easy to spot. The cocky ass is the only one in here smoking a Cuban cigar and wearing a bright white designer suit. How he thinks he can be safe in a place like this, I have no idea. But knowing him, maybe he is looking for a fight just for the adrenaline of it all.

  I order a beer, something not on tap. I don’t want to risk the contamination since this place smells like a sewer. Then, I slam it down onto the table in the corner where I find Stefan smirking.

  "You know you stick out like a sore thumb, right?" I ask him, and he just laughs at me. Not a surprising reaction at all. "So, what the hell is this meeting about, and why did it need to happen in New York?" I ask him, hoping at least this will get me a straight answer.

  "Well, New York is because once I tell you this, you would have come here anyway. The person this is about happens to be in town."

  I roll my eyes at his cryptic words as he sips on a dirty martini that I hope is purposely dirty. "And who is that?"

  He shakes his head. "First, a confession. You know my lovely wife?"

  Everyone knows his wife. She is the daughter of an oil mogul, and not at all the woman he was supposed to marry. He was actually engaged to Isabella, at least on paper. I have also heard she is quite the feisty one and wasn't gained by normal means either.

  "I knew who she was and arranged the whole thing. I had a friend of mine capture her and put her on one of his ships—a ship meant for selling sex slaves and the like south of the border. I was always going to be the one who bought her and saved her from a life with some sexual deviant or abuser. She eventually found out the whole scheme, though. The problem is, she was touched. I told them she wasn’t to be touched in any way or harmed, so my friend became a dead one. What I didn’t know was his whole operation was sanctioned by some of his friends and colleagues; the Falcones."

  "Shit, so now you have the Falcones after you? And that’s why you’re in New York? No fucking offense, but I really don’t want to fuck with them, and you're not exactly on my list of top priorities," I tell him, unsure what the hell any of this has to do with me.

  "None taken. This is only partially about me. You see, both the CIA and the FBI have been involved with trying to take this man and his criminal network down. He fucks with terrorists. He is about as bad as it gets, and his grown up sons are just as bad. I want them dead and gone or locked up where they can’t fuck with me and mine, Marcel," he seethes, downing the rest of his drink and busting the glass by accident as he slams it down.

  "Can you get to the point, Dalca?"

  "I guess you haven’t heard the rumors yet, but my informant on the inside tells me that little Miss Isabella Zugra is the one they have put on the case to take down the Falcones."

  "No, that doesn’t even make any sense." I slam my fist down, knowing I’m making a scene. Dalca glares at me, and I settle back in my seat, trying to wrap my head around how it’s even possible.

  "Believe it. I have confirmed it face-to-face.She is here in New York right now. The FBI passed her onto the CIA for training after they picked her up for some indiscretions."

  I put my head in my hands, unable to imagine Isabella being involved in such a thing. Training for combat, hunting down a crime family and going undercover. I barely saw her as a member of the Clans at all.

  "Look, if you don’t believe me, go ask her yourself. I need you to handle her because I’m sure she will fuck this up, Marcel. If she does, you'll never get a chance to take her virginity."

  I glare at him and his big mouth. I pull out my phone and dial her number before I even make it out of the bar, not looking back to see what I am sure is a smug look on his damn face.

  "Hello, Marcel? What’s wrong?"

  "You and I need to talk."

  "About what? Is something wrong with Aria?"

  I hadn’t thought about the fact she might think that. "No." An idea comes to me. No way is she going to talk to me about this over the phone if it’s true. I need to see her in person, just like Stefan assumed. I hate when an ass like that is right. "It's serious, though. I am actually in New York. If I give you an address, can you meet me there in a few hours?"

  "Sure, I can do that." She sounded hesitant, knowing she was about to reveal that she was in New York to me, but she has no reason to suspect that I know why she is here.

  "I'll text you." I hang up, feeling a migraine coming on. This is going to be one hell of a night.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella

  I don’t know what to think when the cab pulls up at the address Marcel had texted me and see that it is a fancy restaurant, the kind like not even I have been to. It’s on the east side of Manhattan where all of the rich and famous call home in their designer clothes with all their gossip. If there was one part of New York that I enjoyed at all, it was here. Just listening in on conversations was enough entertainment for a lifetime.

  Right now, though, my focus is on the address, checking over and over that this is where he meant me to come. I can’t imagine a good reason for Marcel to have me come to a place like this to meet him. Nothing other than one, and my father had said nothing of the sort.

  I don’t waste any more time, walking up the steps into the restaurant, my heart beating hopeful in my chest. I am thinking about the last time we saw each other and the way he held me just for a few minutes in that hospital across the world from here. I don’t know if it was simply a moment shared in worry and grief or if he finally saw me and meant what he said about dancing with me.

  I hate to hope that he and my father have been cooking something up together only to be disappointed. Or maybe this is a date. The real kind.

  The whole restaurant is decked out in gold and sparkling lights? including several chandeliers that look like they are dripping with crystals. it reminds me of old pictures I have seen of the Titanic. "I am here to meet with someone, a Marcel Funar," I say as I approach the host, who wears a full tux. I’m grateful to be wearing the nicest dress I brought along with me to New York because otherwise I would feel incredibly out of place. Already a plain black dress feels on the cusp.

  "Miss Zugra, I take it?" the host asks with a friendly grin, and I nod, allowing him to lead me towards the far left side of the establishment. I’m led up two flights of winding stairs to find that Marcel is sitting at a private table on the balcony, surrounded by golden curtains, some pulled back and others l
et down for privacy. This has to be a date, and I blush as I’m seated and given a menu and poured a glass of wine.

  "This is all beautiful. How did you even know I was in New York?" I ask him as I sip my wine, and he watches me with an unreadable expression. The anger I thought I had heard in his voice on the phone is gone from my mind, though.

  “I have my sources,” he says as the waiter comes to take our order. I let Marcel order for me, unsure what I should get. This place is authentic Greek, not something I’m used to partaking in. Plus, he’s in his element like this, and I’m memorizing every move he makes just in case I never get a night like this with him again.

  I want so badly just to let it all go and enjoy it as the night progresses with amazing food and small talk, but he has yet to say anything of value. I have to know what this is all for.

  “Marcel, did my father arrange something?” I ask, trying to be a little nonspecific so I don’t look so desperate. I have never once told him out loud how I’ve felt, or Aria for that matter, but that doesn’t mean everyone doesn’t suspect the feelings I have had all these years. I’m not exactly hiding it.

  “No, Stefan did.”

  My jaw drops, and I look around to make sure we are truly alone. If he has talked with Stefan this is not at all about what I thought it could be. I can’t believe Stefan told Marcel of all people. But there’s no use getting ahead of myself. I have to be level headed about this and find out exactly what he knows. This could be dangerous with the Funar Clan head involved. More dangerous than I already anticipated.

  “Shit, what did he tell you?” I hiss, leaning in over the table. I truly can’t afford for anyone to hear this, no matter how innocent I can make it sound. My life is literally on the line here, and if he knows, his life could be in the balance too.

  “Everything, but I want to hear it from you.”