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“What were you saying about roulette favoring house odds?” Alina asked Stephanie as they walked away from the table half an hour later.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stephanie retorted good-naturedly. “So you were right and I was wrong. I think this is the first time I've ever been to the casino and my friend walked away a winner.”
Alina smiled. Her pile of chips had tripled before she called it a night, walking away from the table with extreme self-control before the house took back the odds.
“We have half an hour before dinner. What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I think I'll try blackjack,” Stephanie answered. “You may have had a bad experience, but it's always treated me well.”
They headed for the blackjack tables and she watched as Stephanie took a seat at one of them.
“Ms. Woods?”
A deep voice preceded a meaty hand on her arm. Viper instinctively snatched the wrist, applying firm pressure with two fingers as she turned her head. A large man in a charcoal suit grimaced at the sudden uselessness of his hand. Stephanie looked up, startled.
“Yes,” Viper said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Mr. Solitto requests a moment of your time,” the man told her through clenched teeth.
Stephanie started to stand abruptly, but Alina placed her other hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into her chair as she released the man's wrist.
“I'll be fine,” she murmured. “Try not to lose all your money before I get back.”
Stephanie looked at the massive bodyguard standing behind Alina massaging his wrist and pressed her lips together before nodding. Alina turned to follow the man across the casino floor.
“Mr. Solitto is waiting for you in the martini bar,” he told her. “He said you would know which one.”
Alina smiled.
“Of course,” she murmured.
The behemoth fell silent, nursing his throbbing hand as he led her across the casino to a martini bar tucked away in the corner.
Frankie Solitto was the head of the Jersey Family, or the Italian mob in Jersey, if you preferred. Last year, she met him here while she was hunting a traitor intent on killing Viper. At the time, she didn't know if she would live to see the next week, and she certainly hadn't imagined there would be a repeat meeting.
Alina shook her head. She'd spotted Frankie playing poker in the high-roller room while she was standing at the roulette table. He looked over the casino floor and saw her, nodding almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement.
What did the old mobster want now?
The behemoth stopped outside the entrance to the bar and waved her inside. Alina stepped into the dark interior, her eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light easily. There were only a handful of patrons in the lounge, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Blue LED lights snaked their way along the floor, outlining a huge martini glass on the dark carpet in the center of the lounge. Two bars ran the length of the room at either side and a stage stretched across the back wall. Tables spaced intimately throughout the lounge had votives burning in the center, and the candlelight cast an ambiance of subdued elegance. It was just as she remembered, dark and cozy with the promise of seclusion if one so desired.
Alina glanced to the right and moved silently through the lounge to the end of the bar where a man sat with a rocks glass in front of him.
“Good evening,” she murmured, sliding onto a bar stool next to him.
Frankie nodded to her and motioned to the bartender at the other end of the bar.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, glancing at her. “You look well.”
“I'm staying alive,” Alina replied as the bartender came towards them. “Vodka martini, with a lemon twist.” He nodded, turning away, and Alina turned her eyes to Frankie, considering him thoughtfully. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
The head of the Jersey family sipped his whiskey and set it down gently. He was an imposing man, tall and solid, with an air of authority laced with intimidation. He was used to getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, and it showed. Frankie Solitto could scare just about anyone he pleased simply by looking at them, except the woman seated beside him.
“Can't I invite an associate for a drink?” he asked with a flash of white teeth.
“Are we associates?” Alina asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Frankie watched as the bartender set a martini in front of her. He motioned for him to put it on his bill and turned to look at her as the bartender moved away.
“I like you,” he told her. “How's your business going? You feel ready for a change yet?”
Viper's lips twitched.
“Not yet.”
“Shame.” Frankie shook his head and reached for his glass. “I could really use someone like you.”
Alina's eyes narrowed slightly and she reached for her glass. Sipping her martini, she studied Frankie over the rim for a thoughtful moment.
“Are you asking me for a favor?” she asked softly, setting the glass down.
“I don't deal in favors,” Frankie replied, his voice low. “They get messy. I prefer arrangements that are mutually beneficial to all parties involved. Let's just say I'm offering you a one-time only, freelance contract, no strings attached.”
Viper stared at him for a long, silent moment, her eyes dark and fathomless. Frankie met her look steadily. If he was repressing an almost irresistible urge to squirm, he didn't show it. The silence stretched between them before Viper finally spoke.
“I don't do freelance work,” she told him.
“I would make it worth your while,” Frankie said.
“Not interested.”
Frankie nodded and sipped his whiskey.
“I had a feeling you'd say that,” he admitted.
“Then why did you ask?” Viper asked.
“It’s always worth a shot.” Frankie set down his glass. “How's your boyfriend?”
“Still alive,” she answered, amusement lighting her eyes. “And no, he doesn't do freelance either.”
“You know, I hear things.” Frankie waved his hand vaguely. “It's my business to keep informed. Around Halloween time, I heard one of my competitors was trying to move into Jersey.”
“Is that so?” Viper sipped her drink. “How inconvenient.”
“It would have been very inconvenient, for them,” Frankie agreed easily. “Funny thing, though. He disappeared.”
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Did he now?”
Frankie glanced at her, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light.
“Rumor at the time was that someone helped him disappear...permanently,” he said.
“I wouldn't listen to rumors, if I were you,” Viper told him. “They're rarely accurate.”
Frankie chuckled despite himself.
“That's true enough,” he replied. He lifted his glass and finished his drink in one swallow. “But I'm inclined to believe this one. You tell your boyfriend that if he ever needs anything, he can come to me. I consider he did me a favor, and I don't like owing favors.”
“I'll be sure to pass the message on,” she murmured.
“You do that.” Frankie nodded and stood up. “Tell your friend I said hello. Special Agent Walker, isn't it?”
Viper's eyes were laughing when they met his.
“I'm not sure she would be comfortable with that,” she mused. “She can be stuffy about some things. She's got a funny idea about ethics.”
“So I've seen,” Frankie agreed, his face creasing into a laugh.
“Frankie...” Viper turned on her stool to face him, her long fingers spinning the martini glass slowly on its stem. “I'm not going to wake up to a horse's head in my bed in the morning, am I?”
“Not this time,” Frankie answered with a wink. “If you change your mind, though, you know where to find me. Enjoy your evening.”
It was well after midnight when Alina got home. She locked the sliding door behind herself and went into the kitchen, dropping her keys on the marble-topped bar as she passed. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the cell phone the stranger slipped into her hand at the roulette table and pressed the power button. She set the phone down on the kitchen island, turning to pull a bottle of water out of the fridge while the phone loaded up.
She didn't know who the stranger was that passed her the phone, nor did she want to know. He was a faceless contact, one of many, and as far as he was concerned, she was the same. Her world was one of shadows and strangers, each contact linked to another in a long line of anonymity. The stranger at the roulette table assumed she was simply another courier, not the intended recipient. He got paid to deliver items and didn't ask questions. If he ever got curious, his employment would come to an abrupt, and terminal, end. It was the way their world worked.
Turning from the stainless steel refrigerator, she glanced at the screen of the phone and watched as it began to fill with pre-installed home screen icons. She opened her water and took a long drink, leaning on the island and watching as the security layer ran its initial scan.
Capping her water bottle, Viper set it down and picked up the phone. She touched the contacts icon and the address book opened. Only one number was listed, with no name. She didn't need a name. She knew whose number it was.
Hawk.
Smiling slightly, she typed a brief text message.
Shipment received.
Alina sent the message and cleared back to the home screen before picking up her water and turning to leave the kitchen. She crossed to the living room and sank down onto the chocolate brown sofa. While she had every confidence that Charlie was doing all he could to discover how Viper's presence in Damascus had become common knowledge, Alina didn't trust anyone in the Organization right now. Until Charlie found out what was happening, she wasn't going to make it easy for anyone to find her. Hawk was the only one she trusted. When she contacted him to arrange a secure clean phone for them to communicate, he didn't ask any questions. He simply sent her a drop location and time.
Damon Miles.
After graduation from basic training, she moved into military intelligence while Damon, predictably enough, was accepted into the Navy SEALs. Their acquaintance was put on hold as their military service took priority, but a few years later they ran into each other again in the shadowed halls of the training facility for the Organization. It was there that their friendship grew. Over the years, it deepened and became stronger. Stephanie thought it was strange that Alina and Damon rarely saw each other, but for them, it was just the way it had always been. Their friendship was never the priority. It couldn't be. Their work demanded their full attention, anything less would get them killed. If there were moments when Viper stood on a hotel balcony overlooking Paris or London and wished Hawk was by her side, those thoughts were reluctantly set aside.
The phone in her hand vibrated once and Alina turned it over, glancing at the message.
Any problems?
No, she answered.
You want to tell me what's going on?
Alina smiled faintly. She could almost hear the amusement in his deep voice.
Not particularly.
Knowing Hawk, he was already digging for information on her recent movements, and had probably heard about the four Italian agents on the Amalfi Coast. It wouldn't take him long to put two and two together and figure out that she somehow had been compromised. God help Charlie when he did.
Let me know what you need. I'm here.
Alina felt a tug deep inside her chest and she blinked her eyes a few times as melancholy suddenly crashed over her, threatening to suffocate her. For the first time in many months, she felt her isolation keenly. She wanted to answer that she needed him, just him, but Viper wouldn't let her fingers type the words.
I'll be in touch.
Alina took a deep breath and pushed the feeling of loneliness aside. Sliding the phone into her pocket, she sipped her water, her dark brown eyes resting on the mission-style coffee table absently. It was enough to know that she had someone to turn to if things suddenly got uncomfortable. While she had a few different escape routes in place, and new safe houses unknown to Charlie, Hawk and the Organization, Viper was a firm believer in stacking all odds in her favor.
And Hawk was a huge odd to have in her favor.
The rumble of a powerful engine echoed through the near-empty parking garage as the Camaro rolled off the ramp and pulled around the outer wall until it reached the dark, far corner of the parking level. The lights were further apart here and the security camera in the corner was facing the wall. The rumble slowed to an idle as the Camaro stopped next to a black BMW with tinted windows. The door opened and a tall, broad-chested man climbed out of the Camaro. He left the engine running and circled to the trunk of the BMW as the lock was released from inside the car. He pulled out two black leather duffel bags, transferring them to the Camaro silently. Slamming the trunk closed, he turned and closed the trunk to the BMW as he passed. The back window closest to him slid down silently. A man sat in the shadows, partially concealed in the dark interior.
“Here's the address,” he said, passing a long, white envelope out the window to the driver. “It's just outside Richmond.”
“OK.”
The driver took the envelope and tossed it through his open window onto the passenger seat.
“When you get back, I want you to pay Ms. Baker a visit,” the man continued. “I get the impression that she doesn't believe it was an accident.”
The driver glanced at him sharply.
“Why?”
“An FBI agent was there today,” the man told him. “He drives a black Firebird.”
“I know him,” the driver said, leaning on his car and folding his arms over his chest. “He runs down at Atco every once in a while. He's a friend of the family.”
“Well, I don't like the fact that he showed up on her doorstep today. Take care of it.”
“I'll see what I can find out,” the driver promised and turned toward his door.
“Tito?” The man said as the driver opened the door to slide behind the wheel. “I know I don't need to tell you how important it is that no one realizes the truth.”
Tito Morales glanced over his shoulder to the man in the shadows of the backseat.
“Understood.”