Page 5 of Unbridled Fire
My stomach growled and I grimaced. Standing, I muttered, “Okay, okay. You win.”
Gathering my laptop, I stuffed it in my bag and slung it over my shoulder. The lingering worry about the transactions was still there, but I clung to my faith that I had the ability to figure out what the hell was going on and put a stop to it. Resolved, I headed into the main part of the club to find Damien so I could walk home and try to get some rest.
Chapter 2
Leo
Isat in the meeting room of the Brooklyn FBI office, annoyed at the early meeting call time. We usually met at nine on Tuesdays, but for some reason, this meeting had been scheduled for eight. I always went to the gym at six a.m. on weekdays, but this morning, I’d gone at five. Getting up early had been easier when I was younger, but I’d recently turned forty-two and my body seemed to crave more sleep than it used to.
Unfortunately, my job didn’t seem to give a crap about that, which was pretty damn irritating.
The Resident Agent in Charge of the Brooklyn office, or RAC, was rather easy to work for. We’d enjoyed an amenable working relationship for years, so I figured I’d let Bob off the hook for calling the early meeting.
My fellow agents filled the chairs that surrounded me, chatting as we waited for things to begin. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and broad shoulders entered the room, carrying a folder as he walked to the podium in front. The chatter died down as he cleared his throat and addressed the room.
“Good morning, everyone. Let’s get started.”
The room turned quiet as curiosity buzzed between the cinderblock walls.
“I’m SSA Daniel Kelly. I’ve been assigned to lead this agency, effective immediately. Robert Paxton has been transferred to the Atlantic City office and will finish out the final two years of hiscareer there. He served this office well, and we thank him for his service.”
Stunned silence permeated the room as the information set in. Bob had run our office for years, and he knew the ins and outs of how we operated. More specifically, he and I had a long-standing, unspoken agreement about my non-FBI activities. Bob understood that I informed to Michael Caruso, and in exchange, Michael had used his vast network to help us catch countless criminals over the years. It was a beneficial exchange, but one I’d worked hard to cultivate. The idea of starting fresh with a new RAC was overwhelming and frustrating as hell.
“I ran the Long Beach, California, resident agency for over ten years and was an agent in several California offices before that, so I come to you with lots of experience. Now, that probably won’t mean much to those of you who were in line for a promotion and didn’t get the chance to interview for this job.”
He paused as several agents made surreptitious eye contact, affirming his statement.
“The truth of the matter is,” he continued, “there’s been an uptick in activity along the New York and New Jersey coastlines, and a swell of online fentanyl sales being funded by bitcoin. The bosses in Washington wanted someone with a fresh eye who can take control of the situation.”
Shit.I knew exactly what that meant. The suits in DC wanted to make sure none of us were working with the traffickers who allowed drugs into the ports. Although Michael Caruso did his best to eliminate fentanyl, he still moved other drugs through the area.
I’d always wrestled with that knowledge, considering I detested the illegal drug trade. But I was also a realist and understood that drugs were going to be transported to the US no matter how hard the authorities tried to stop it. At least Michael had honor and did his best to eradicate the fentanyl. I’d madepeace long ago that I could work with someone like him, or leave the ports open to the Russian bratva and narcotraffickers like Marco Nunez in Miami who didn’t give a shit about stopping fentanyl distribution.
Was it ideal? No. But most things in life rarely were, and I was able to sleep at night knowing that I at least preventedsomedeaths by working with Michael.
But informing for Michael was also illegal. Not only could it get me fired, it could also land me in prison. I’d always understood this, but the benefit of working with Michael had always outweighed the risk. He’d helped us catch numerous criminals over the years, controlled fentanyl distribution, and almost eliminated the trafficking of young women along the northeast coast.
For me, saving all those lives had been worth it. I’d been smart enough to build up alliances over the years and only tell Bob exactly what he’d needed to know. Now, this new guy was in the mix, and I worried all my hard work would suddenly come crashing down.
“There have been rumors of dirty agents in the New York offices,” Daniel continued. “If I find out that any of you so much as say ‘hello’ to anyone involved in illegal activities, we’re going to have a problem. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” everyone said in unison.
“Good. I’ll be meeting with each of you individually over the next few days to get to know you better. Sarah will set that up,” he said, referencing the office’s administrative assistant. “You’ll all receive an email with my cell and email address, and you’re welcome to contact me anytime, day or night. I have an open-door policy. Are there any questions?”
I sat quietly, listening as some of the agents asked questions, feeling my pulse thrum in my ears. Having a new boss intent on weeding out agents who worked with the mafia sure as hellwasn’t what I needed, but I’d have to figure out how to roll with it.
Daniel adjourned the meeting and I strode to my desk, checking my cell phone to see how much time I had before my meeting with Katia. She only reached out to me when she needed to pass along information that Michael couldn’t send himself, and it worried me that she wanted to talk about something she hadn’t told him yet.
Sitting at my desk, I figured I’d use the next hour to catch up on emails before heading to meet her. As I scrolled through my inbox, my thoughts wafted to her, as they often did. The woman was stunningly gorgeous and smelled like rain, roses and honey all rolled into one. I knew it was ridiculous to be entranced by someone’s smell, but with Katia, I couldn’t help it. Every time we met, her scent surrounded me and made me long for things I had no business yearning for.
She and I were as different as night and day. I was a rigid FBI agent, raised by my Catholic father who lived with an inherent sense of justice. Even when I informed for Michael, I convinced myself it was justified because I was saving lives.
Katia was a former stripper who worked for the mafia. She existed in a world I wanted no part of outside of work—or, so I told myself.
But at night, when it grew dark and I closed my eyes, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish she was there with me; her svelte curves wrapped around me as I nuzzled her gorgeous crimson hair. My attraction to her had always been uncontrollable, and Idetestednot being in control.
I knew how she saw me; a goodie two-shoes Catholic altar boy who looked down on what she’d done for a living before she became an accountant. I let her believe that because I didn’t want her to know the truth. Hell, it would be humiliating for both of us, considering she certainly didn’t see me the same way.
