"People have risked more for less," Dom says. "But you're right, there's something else driving him. This feels personal."
"Against which family?" I ask. “Or maybe it’s all of you. What if Blackwood has a connection to La Corona we don't know about? Something in his past?"
Dom moves closer, looking over my shoulder. "What are you searching for?"
"Blackwood's background. I've only seen his official FBI file, but..." I pull up what limited information I can access remotely. "Victor Blackwood, 48, born in Connecticut. Ivy League education, joined the Bureau twenty-three years ago. Specialized in organized crime from the beginning."
"Connecticut doesn't help much. Any family connections to New York?"
I scroll through more details. "Nothing obvious. Parents were academics. No siblings listed."
"We need to dig deeper," Dom says. "Old newspaper archives, school records, anything from before he joined the FBI."
"And we need to look at the families too. Any significant events from twenty-five, thirty years ago that might have created this level of hatred."
"He won't stop coming after you," Dom says quietly. "Not until we find proof of all this."
"Or until he silences me permanently," I add, the truth of it chilling.
He moves to me, wrapping me in his arms. “I won’t let that happen, Olivia.”
I let myself be comforted by his strength and warmth for a moment. But only a moment. I can’t get used to this.
I pull away. "We need to follow the money. The money from the Monti raid is just what we know about. If he's been skimming for years..."
"It would be millions," Dom finishes. "That kind of money leaves tracks."
"Offshore accounts, shell companies, real estate. There has to be a pattern. Between that and maybe something in his past that connects him personally to La Corona is what we need to look into.”
Dom nods. "I can have my people look into property records, business holdings. Anything that might be tied to him under different names."
"And I can access Bureau databases. Cross-reference any cases he's worked that involved La Corona families." I pause, the reality of what I'm proposing sinking in. "I'll be committing career suicide."
"Only if you get caught," Dom says with a hint of his usual confidence.
I laugh despite myself. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"
His smile fades into something more serious. "What's the alternative? Let him continue using the Bureau to carry out his vendetta? Let more people die?"
He's right. The choice isn't between right and wrong anymore. It's between different kinds of wrong.
"First thing tomorrow, I'll go back to the office?—”
“No, you won’t.”
I bristle at his tone. “You’re not the boss of me?—”
“I saved your ass tonight. I don’t want it to be for nothing. You can access what you need from here. And you can do it in a way that doesn’t put a bullseye on your back.”
I want to argue with him, but when I open my mouth, he presses a finger over it.
“Olivia.”
The way he says my name makes my chest feel full. I wonder when exactly this happened.
When did Dominic Vitale, the man I've spent years trying to put behind bars, become important?
“Your safety is first.”
