"Really? Because if Gio did have anything to do with Rocco’s kidnapping, it’s quite convenient that the one person who could identify the kidnapper ended up with a bullet in his head. And a few hours later, you’re the boy’s savior. Oh, and let’s not forget,there’s no official report on any of it. Only the FBI could cover up all that."
Her reaction tells me she wasn’t involved, but there’s something in her eyes that suggests she’s working the case in her head and perhaps coming up with the same idea that La Corona has: her boss is involved somehow.
She gives her head a quick shake. “That call about Rocco could have come from anyone. Even someone in your organization.”
“Yeah, no. If someone in my world took Rocco, they’d have called me or Luca. People in my world don’t call the Feds, that is unless that Fed is on their payroll. Tell me, Olivia, are you on the take?”
“You know I’m not,” she bites out.
I shrug. "I lost a man and nearly a child from my family, and the people who are supposed to protect and serve don’t give a shit. All I’m saying is if you're looking for monsters, maybe start with the mirror."
Her face flushes with anger. "That's rich coming from you. If anyone killed Gio, it was someone in La Corona covering their tracks. If you think he knew about Rocco’s kidnapper, you’d kill him.”
“Maybe, but not before finding out everyone involved. No, someone killed Gio either because he knew something, or they wanted me to think Luca killed one of my men. Someone is investing a great deal of time to create conflict with my partners.”
“Again, that sounds like something people in your world would do. Maybe a rival family. It’s not what the FBI does.”
I shake my head slowly. "I have the ballistics report."
That stops her cold.
"Same caliber and rifling pattern as standard FBI-issue sidearms." I watch her carefully. "Interesting coincidence, wouldn't you say?"
She recovers quickly. "Many people use the same type of gun. That proves nothing."
"Maybe not in court, but that doesn’t make it not true.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
I hold her gaze. "Why is an FBI agent who claims to stand for justice so quick to assume one of my people killed their own, rather than considering other possibilities? Why are you so focused on putting me in prison for crimes you can’t prove, but willing to look away when given questionable warrants or told to fake reports?"
"You should leave," she finally says.
"Probably." I don't move. "But I think we're just getting to the interesting part of this conversation."
“If you want to talk, come to my office tomorrow, we’ll talk.”
I shake my head, so disappointed that she’s not willing to consider what I’m saying. Perhaps she’s not the woman I thought she was.
"You know, for someone who prides herself on seeking justice, you're remarkably comfortable looking the other way when it's convenient."
I move closer, close enough that she has to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. "Have you ever considered that perhaps the reason your boss buried Rocco’s kidnapping investigation is because the truth would reveal something inconvenient?"
Her breath catches. "You're trying to manipulate me.” But there's no conviction behind her words.
"Am I?" I reach out, my fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. She doesn't pull away. "Or am I simply a man who's tired of playing a game where the rules keep changing?"
She doesn’t respond.
"We're not so different, you and I, Olivia. We both want the same thing, to protect the people we care about." I gesture between us. "This dance we've been doing, maybe it's been keeping us from seeing the real threat."
She scoffs, but it lacks her usual bite. "Your charm might work on your usual conquests, Vitale, but I'm not that easily swayed."
"Aren't you?" I smile, noting how her eyes drop briefly to my lips. "I think my charm is working fine, it’s an inconvenient truth that isn’t working.” I take her wine glass from her hand, my fingers deliberately caressing hers. I take a sip from the same spot her lips touched before setting it down.
"All I'm asking is that you consider the possibility that I'm not your enemy. That perhaps we're both pawns in someone else's game."
Her resistance is crumbling. I can see it in the softening of her stance, the slight parting of her lips.
