“Ms. Summers, this is a ruthless mafia family who has no interest in your safety whatsoever. Why would you bargain for theirs?” I am taken aback by his words.Ruthless. I just don’t see it; I can’t see it. They’ve been nothing but kind to me.
“What do you mean byruthless?” I stiffen my upper lip, not really wanting to know, but needing to hear the truth Tito has yet to tell me. Could this be why?
“I mean, they kill and have killed all who get in their way. They want power, and they don’t care what it takes to acquire and maintain it.” I can’t compute his words or how they could be attached to the San Giovannis. My eyes burn as I blink back tears because I know what I’m giving up by agreeing to work with the FBI. I don’t know what to believe anymore, but I know what I want, to keep the San Giovanni’s out of harm's way.
“I want their safety a top priority, or I won’t help you.” He clicks his tongue in response, and the line is silent for a moment before he takes a breath.
“Fine. I’ll have it added to the contract. Meet us at Fiftieth street downtown. The bar across the road, called Queens, they should let you in the back room if you tell them Reginald sent you. I’ll text you this information too. Be there within the hour, unless you want us to remove that new safety clause.”
“I’ll be there.” I hang up after saying this because I was seconds away from blowing up on him, and my time is dwindling as we waste time speaking.” I check the exact time as I sit up, my head hurting from the pain I’m ignoring in my chest. On a normal day, I should be leaving for work any minute now, but instead, I’m going to a pub before breakfast and signing my life over to the FBI. I shift my jaw at that thought and make my way to the door before realizing I’m completely naked. The power officially shut off last night, so my apartment is a sweaty oven.
I backtrack to the bathroom and grab a sundress I have hanging on the back door. I rarely wear it, and it’s not really my thing to care about the clothes I wear, but this is honestly gorgeous. It’s just a pale yellow cotton dress with spaghetti straps. I throw it on and pull my curls up into a bun before applying sunscreen all over and grabbing a pair of sandals off the closet floor.
I have enough battery left in my phone to get me to the location that Agent Riggs wants me to go to. After that, I guess I’ll move all the things I can into my car and abandon my apartment before debt collectors come to get their revenge. I head to my car as quickly as I can. It’s so hot, and the sun isn’t even out yet. I just need to get this over with, and then I can sleep the rest of the day in my air-conditioned car. Thanks to the stars, that shit still works, or I would literally die.
At half past four, I make it to the pub and step up to the entrance with my wallet clutched in my clammy hands. The bouncer at the door holds his hand out to me before saying anything, and I nervously file through my wallet to find my ID. When I finally grab it, an awkward moment of silence and uncomfortable glances between me and beefcake, under our belt, I hand him my ID. He reviews it for a second, then looks at me and hands it back.
“We’re not letting people in.”
“I have an invitation.”
“Does it look like I care?” What the fuck. I scroll through my phone to prove to him that I’m meant to be here, and in doing so, I read the instructions again.
“Oh!” I yell, and he grabs his belt like he’s going to tase me. I blink at him for a second, and he slowly retracts his hands, appearing slightly embarrassed. “Reginald sent me,” I say, like an old lady reading a post off of Facebook with her glasses at the end of her nose. He lifts his chin at me and points me towards the open doorway he was standing in front of.
I say nothing as I brush past him and his taser gun and follow the two other security guards, guiding me in the direction of a room at the back of the pub, way past the actual bar. I round a corner where there’s a fancy black wood door with carvings all through it and a simple spotlight hanging over the entryway.
After I knock, it slowly creaks open. Those same charcoal eyes that terrified me Friday night are looking down at me now. Today they are not mean, only intrigued.
“You came early.”
“I want to get this over with.” I shrug, and he gives me a nod as he opens the door. When I step inside, I see the group of men gathered by a window overlooking the steepest hill in downtown. The entire room is dark, with black walls, black marble floors, a fireplace in the corner with black chairs, and a deep gray animal rug.
“Please, sit.” He offers me a chair next to a slender man with glasses so thick his eyes look like bugs.
“Thanks,” I mumble and sit down. All eyes turn towards me now, and I think I hear Riggs pouring a glass of something behind me. I didn’t notice a bar, but I’m more nervous than I thought I would be, so my mind must have missed processing that detail. After a second, a glass of whiskey is next to my head, and I look past the meaty hands holding it to me.
“Here.” Riggs lowers it towards my hand, and I take it only because he doesn’t seem like the type to take ‘no’ very well. In the center of the chairs, turned towards the skyline, is a black heavy wood coffee table with a large stack of papers and a gold pen laying neatly beside them.
“Have at it.” He does a weird flick of his wrist that looks like he thinks he can wield magic, and I think for a second that he’s deluded enough to believe this. But then again, I am signing a contract with him, so he must have good taste in talent. I’m nearly through with signing everything, and the men are chatting about something quietly as I do so. All of them have signed in their specific areas, all ready to take down the San Giovanni’s.
I get why the FBI would want me to help, but how I’ll actually be helping them is a mystery. If days at their office look like this, I guess it won’t be too bad. Lonely, but not bad. I’ve grown used to being lonely. I just have to get re-accustomed to it.
“Done.” I place the last paper on top of the stack and lay my pen down next to it. Riggs is the first to break away from the chatter to look through the pages. As he does, the question of what my days will now look like is beginning to nag me.
“So,” I breathe, and he glances up at me before flipping to the next page. “Um, what, what will I be doing now?” He raises his brows as he evens the stack and places it back down onto the table face-up.
“Well, I guess, whatever you were supposed to do today, had we not met.”
“No, I—I mean, my job.”
“Oh, well, then, my answer is still the same. You’ll remain working for the San Giovanni’s to communicate to us what tech they have, corrupt it, and retrieve it for us from the trash heap.”
“I’m sorry, what? I thought—”
“Ms. Summers, did you not read these documents? Did anyone ever teach you to always review contracts before you sign them?”
“I—” I’m an idiot, and I played right into this entire charade. How the hell will I even be able to look at Tito, let alone be in the same room with him, knowing I’ve betrayed his family? Betrayed his dreams, our dreams. I’m nothing but a puppet now.