I stiffen. “I’d say the former more than the latter. To be honest, the whole conference was just a way to get something else.”
His eyebrow rises higher. “And what’s that?”
“Revenge.”
Years of research and training kick in as I study him, everything from his laid-back mannerism to the expensive cut of his clothes marking him as a high-ranking member of the mob.
Clearly, I’ve gotten the LA crime family’s attention if they sent one of their own capos out to “take care of me.”
Just like we planned.
I’m just surprised they found me so quickly.
“Elaborate.”
I shrug. “I don’t want to be on the run anymore, but I also don’t want the FBI getting away with this. They don’t reward loyalty. They punish it. I want to hit them where it bleeds. The FBI knows it was you who ordered the hit on one of their agents, and they’ve launched an investigation.”
The man tilts his head to the side and studies me. “We already know that.”
“Do you know they’re closing in on your mole?”
“What mole?” he replies with a smile.
“They’ve also got intel on some of your underground gambling rings.”
“Half of the FBI agents gamble there.” The man sighs and chuckles. “You’re grasping at straws, Ms. Marshall.”
And he’s right. For a moment, I feel like I don’t have any edge that would let them bring me back into the fold, and the smile on this man’s face makes me feel like he can actually smell my anguish. Shark smile indeed. He was ready to make a kill.
“One of your capos is under surveillance too,” I say.
“You really are embarrassing yourself, Mr. Marshall.”
“Let me back in, and I’ll prove it to you.”
In an instant, the man bridges the distance between us and is baring his teeth at me. “I could make you talk, you know. We can start with those pretty little fingers of yours.”
I force myself to keep looking at him, seat digging uncomfortably into my back. “I’m already willing to talk. All I want is back in. Besides, I don’t do well with threats.”
Attagirl! Dig your own grave.
But I have a feeling a show of confidence will go a long way with this man.
“Breaking FBI agents is a specialty of mine,” he adds, his dark eyes fathomless and devoid of any life. “I love watching them squirm and beg. You don’t want me as an enemy, Mrs. Marshall.”
“I know,” I say, holding my breath, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in my eyes. “That’s exactly why I’m offering my services to you.”
The bald man returns to his seat and pulls out a fresh cigar. Little by little, the car draws to a halt, and I tense. “That’s it?”
His eyes move over my face and down the rest of me, leaving ice in his wake. With a sneer, he leans back. “We’ll be in touch.”
The same man who dragged me out of the building pulls me out of the car. I catch a final glimpse of the bald-headed man’s face before the door slams shut.
Well, that gratified.
My body shook uncontrollably, the adrenaline quickly dissipating. I glance around and realize I am standing in the middle of a bridge.
Alone.