My Bad Boy's Secret: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (23 page)

              We were free and on the road again, but there wasn’t much of us left. Me, daddy, Stefano, and Angelo were driving away. The others were either dead or too weak to walk away with us, so we left them behind.

              “So what do we do now?” said Angelo in his usual thick and stupid voice. As much as I hated thinking about that question, I tried to come up with an answer. I was having trouble.

              One by one, I considered my options. Going back to Atlanta was hopeless. By now, the news about who I really was and who my family was would be carried by the mainstream media outlets all throughout America. My job was a thing of the past. No law firm was too willing to hire the daughter of a mafia don who was caught up in organized crime, murder and kidnapping. My house, my clothes, and the rest of my stuff were as good as gone. Once people saw the bodies we left at the Memphis jail, they’d launch a nationwide manhunt looking for us.

              The best thing for us to do now was hightail it for Chicago. If we could get back, we could collect our guns, money, and men and find ourselves a good hiding place. We’d be able to hash out a better plan at home.

              “What’s our next step, Luciana?” asked daddy very quietly. It scared me. If he called me by my name, he had an issue with me. Of course, what could it be?

              I spoke slowly and carefully. “We’re going back to Chicago. That’s the safest place for us right now. It’s where our friends and resources are. We’ll regroup and plan our strategy from there.”

              Daddy said nothing in response. He had nothing nice to say, and nothing bad to say either. I knew, though, that we were in a thoroughly fucked situation. Our covers were blown, and the feds would be swarming over our homes and businesses, trying to find us and put us in prison.

              Maybe, just maybe, if daddy weren’t around anymore, I could fix the family. I could do a better job, modernize the Maggadinos, and restore us to our former glory.

              I thought about how I could do away with daddy in the most discreet way possible. I could feed him something and let the drugs to the dirty work, or maybe lure him into a dangerous situation, or pay someone to do the job for me.

              I suddenly felt daddy’s hand on my leg. It rattled me, and I turned to look at him.

              “I know what you’re thinking,
cuore
,” he said silkily. “I can see it in your eyes. But don’t do it. It won’t work. And it’s not good for our family.”

              I nearly shit myself at that moment. My plans evaporated instantly. I tried staring at the road, terrified of looking at daddy. Even at his age, he was sharper than everyone around him.

              “How did you know?” I somehow asked. I sounded like I was a little girl again, caught trying to steal money from mom, like a deer in the headlights.

              Daddy leaned and sank into his seat. “When you’ve been doing this for as long as me,
cuore
, you’ll be able to notice these things just by looking. Never try to outwit me. You’re not smart enough yet to do that. Try again when you’ve gotten older and wiser.”

              “I’m sorry, daddy,” I said, and I meant it. I took out my phone and logged onto my largest bank account. At this point, my funds fortunately weren’t frozen yet. I transferred them to my Swiss account.

              “I’ll reserve some plane tickets for us when we get back,” I told daddy. “It might be a good idea to leave the country for a while. We can visit the family back in Naples. Vacation in Rome and Milan. Does that sound good?”

              Daddy smiled. “I like that. We can relax and then figure out where Blake and your friend are.”

              I smiled back. “Yes, let’s do that.”

Chapter 11 – Rose

              I sat next to Blake in the meeting room. Facing us were two people, a woman who was a U.S. Assistant Attorney, and a man who was the director of the FBI.

              It wasn’t easy convincing all of us to get together here in one room. Being here made me feel like a criminal for some reason. It wasn’t a totally weird emotion. For one, I was defending a criminal. Convincing the government to not put Blake in solitary confinement and convict him of all of his crimes overnight was a Herculean feat. Getting them to sit down and debate this deal I cobbled together was a miracle.

              I spent nearly a week hammering out all the details of the plan with the Department of Justice. I explained it to Blake first, and he initially refused to be part of it. After a couple hours of debating and explaining that this was the only possible way he could ever be free and not spend the rest of his life on death row, he agreed.

              The government at first didn’t want to strike any compromise. They had been after Blake over dozens of homicide cases for years, but could never catch him thanks to his stealth and skill at hiding his identity, or leaving so little behind in terms of clues. Now that they finally had him, the only thing they wanted to do was sentence him to death. Making any deal would infuriate law enforcement and the public, so our arrangement had to be top-secret.

              “You should know that this sort of agreement is highly unconventional,” began the woman. “We usually do not negotiate with murderers who have records as extensive as yours, Mr. Snatch.”

              Blake sneered at the attorney. “Yeah? Well, eat my ass, lady. You think I’m enjoying this? Just give it to me straight.”

              The attorney looked like she was ready to strangle Blake, but held herself back.

              The FBI director raised his hand for silence. “The media must never know about this,” he declared. “We would never hear the end of it if this was reported. We have taken measures to keep all of the details of our deal, strictly confidential. You will have to comply with the terms to ensure that our arrangement remains as such. If word gets out, you are on your own. We will simply throw you away in prison and wash our hands of the both of you.”

              It was harsh, but I expected it. “I understand, sir,” I responded.

              “Hold on,” said Blake. “Can someone please explain to me just what exactly it is that I’m agreeing to? You’re saying you’re not going to put me in jail right now? What’s the catch?”

              “The catch, Mr. Snatch, is that you will have to work for us,” said the FBI director as he lit a cigar. “Ms. Whitney has informed us of your involvement in many major crimes over the past decade. Many of them remain unsolved. Neither she nor we were informed about all of the murders you have personally committed. All we know is what Ms. Whitney has told us. You are to share your knowledge of the criminal organizations you have collaborated with and worked for. Your testimony will be crucial helping us…”

              “Whoa,” interrupted Blake, “I am sure as hell not testifying in any court against anyone. You think I’ll stay alive if I become a rat? I’ll tell you what you want to know, but if I set foot in a courtroom I’m as good as dead.”

              “You won’t have to actually testify,” I said. “Like I told you at the hospital, you just need to come clean about the past. Help the feds by filling in the blanks about the cases. Give them the details on the Mexican mafia, the Irish mob, and the triads. Just do what you did for me with the Blood Brothers.”

              “Ms. Whitney is right,” commented the attorney. “In exchange, you’ll get to stay out of prison and still live free amongst the rest of society. Of course, you’ll be under our surveillance and protection, and we’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe. You’ll be given a new identity and put under witness protection. This is the best amnesty deal you can hope to get.”

              “Whoop-de-fucking-do,” grumbled Blake. “So is that all? I just tell you stuff you want to know, help you solve some cases, and I’m good?”

              “I’m afraid not,” muttered the FBI director. He puffed on his cigar. “In order to hold up your end of the bargain, you’ll have to continue being a government employee. We’re aware of your reputation, Mr. Snatch, and we must admit that we’re impressed by your exploits. We have use for a man with your talents.”

              “Meaning?” Blake asked impatiently.

              “Meaning that we need you to continue being an assassin. The difference is that from now on, you won’t be breaking the law, you’ll be upholding it in this new career. Your client is no longer the mafia or yakuza, but Uncle Sam. You’ll be joining Navy SEALs, CIA agents, and other elite forces for assassination missions. The US government has a lot of people who want to do us harm, and a killer with your skills is hard to come by. We don’t want to waste your abilities,” explained the FBI director.

              This really surprised Blake. “You want me to keep killing? Who do I kill?”

              “Drug lords, terrorists, gangsters. The list is endless. You’ll be very busy,” remarked the attorney.

              Blake leaned back in his chair. He sighed.

              “Do we have a deal?” asked the FBI director, pushing a document towards Blake to sign.

              Blake looked very broken. “Don’t have a choice, do I? Getting shivved in prison or working as a government dog. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m going to help the feds.” He picked up the pen and slowly signed his name, then placed the pen on the table as soon as he was finished. He just sat there in silence with a blank stare on his face.

              I picked up the pen, and the FBI director pushed the deal to me. I put my signature down.

              “Why’s Rose signing?” asked Blake.

              “Ms. Whitney has very generously agreed to be your handler. Given your previous history with one another, we agreed that she would be an appropriate individual to oversee your new life and employment under the government,” the attorney explained.

              “Wait, so Rose, Rose is going to stay with me? We’re not leaving?” said Blake, genuinely confused.

              “Of course I’m staying. Why would we separate?” I told him.

              Suddenly, Blake looked slightly happier than he had been during the meeting. “OK, then I guess it won’t be that bad.” He lowered his head, then looked up again at the other three people in the room. “So wait, you’re going to quit your job.”

              I shrugged. “Well, yeah. So I can do this new job.”

              “And you and your kids will stay with me? And watch me and help me?”

              “That’s my new job. Your handler. I’ll still be working for the government, just in a new way. And we can be together again. What do you think?”

              “I think, uh…I think I like that. I like that a lot.” Blake was trying to look less happy than he actually felt.

              “You’re a very lucky man, son,” the FBI director chimed in. He tapped his cigar ashes into an ashtray. “This young lady did everything she could to keep you from going to prison, and wouldn’t leave us alone until we agreed to help you. A woman who will do that much for you is a keeper. Treat her right.”

              All Blake could do was nod and smile.

              I was on cloud nine as we left the meeting. Blake and I went to a restaurant to get lunch. As I drove, Blake asked me a question.

              “Hey Rose, promise you won’t get mad at me for asking?”

              “Yeah, what is it?”

              “You won’t laugh either?”

              “No, just ask me. What do you want to say?”

              “Who’s Uncle Sam?”

Chapter 12 – Blake

I’m still having trouble getting used to my new name. Just when I felt comfortable being called Jim Collins, I now had to force myself to be referred to as Terry Chatham. I hate my new name even more than my last one. But being Blake Snatch in public is just too dangerous. That’s a name I can only use at home these days.