Maggie clears her throat. “I have an idea.”
Chapter 19
Maggie
The tension hums in the air as Shane turns to look at me and Chucky goes silent across the phone line. Shane’s looking at me with both respect and anticipation, while Chucky . . . well, he’s at least not talking. “Whatcha thinking, Angel?”
“You said Dominick is the better choice for the city, and Sal Rivaldi used his own son as a pawn to incite war,” I reply, trying to put words to the thoughts that have been tumbling in my head for only a few moments. I’m trying to put it together with what I know about Dominick, the city . . . everything I’ve learned in my career in journalism. “We have to appeal to Dominick to prevent the war. The FBI can’t exactly go in officially and tell Dominick he’s their pick as crime lord . . .”
“That’s an understatement,” Chucky says, interrupting. “But . . . they might be willing to work under the table if necessary.”
“Exactly. He’s the best option we’ve got,” I add as Shane gives me a pondering look. “And he can help with the hitman, might be the only one who can.”
Shane taps his hands on the dash, his head nodding quickly as he thinks. “You want us to go back to Petals? To Dominick?” he asks before his nods change to shakes. “That’s a suicide mission, Maggie. No.”
I want to challenge Shane, but Chucky interrupts before the stare-off can reach ridiculous levels. “Actually, I’m thinking she’s on to something. You could go back, maintain your cover, share the intel, and nudge Dominick the right way.”
“Almost right, Chucky,” I interject. “If we go back, we go back honestly. We have to come completely clean with Dominick. If we hold back anything, he’ll know and doubt the rest of the information. Besides, having a waitress and a security guy going back doesn’t carry weight. A reporter and an FBI agent . . . if we go in and show all our cards, he’s more likely to believe us and not go after the Rivaldis. It’s risky, but it’s the best play.”
Shane looks at me incredulously. “You want me to tell Dominick Angeline, head of the Angeline crime family, that I’ve been undercover with him as an FBI agent for a year and that he’s had a fucking reporter working as a waitress in his club, and expect to walk out of that room alive?”
I bite my lip, thinking it through. “Yes. Besides, we can offer Dom things that he would want to take advantage of.”
“Like what?” Shane asks, and for the first time, I feel like grinning. “What’s going on in your head?”
“Dominick’s going to be surprised, and angry, that the FBI has infiltrated his organization,” I say, knowing the description is kind at best, stupid at worst. “But if the FBI gives him a tacit agreement for some breathing room, a willingness to back him, even if it’s under the table . . . he might be willing to help.”
I know I’m pushing it, but Shane needs to understand that I’m all in on this, and I need him to be too.
He nods, obviously thinking through what I’ve said. “We’d need a safety mechanism, something that will make Dominick talk first and hopefully, not shoot later.” He pauses, thinking for a moment before grinning. “Not a safety mechanism, but a safety person. Allie. We use her as a liaison, make sure she’s there for the meeting. I don’t think Dominick will kill us in front of her.”
He’s right. I hate to get Allie involved in this mess. She’s my friend, and I don’t want her to be in any more danger. But I think Shane might have found the only way to insure we get in and out alive and with any chance at securing Dominick’s help with the hitman.
“Okay. We’ll talk to Allie.”
Shane reaches over, taking my hand and giving it a supportive squeeze. “All right, Chucky, you got all that? I’m going back offline. I’ll text you the meet info when it’s set.”
We hang up, and then it’s just Shane and me in the truck. The lies, the hiding, and the stress of the crazy situation melt away as we look at each other, our hands touching, leaving just the chemistry, the connection we’ve had even when we knew we shouldn’t, couldn’t pursue it.
I feel naked, vulnerable under his gaze like never before. Unconsciously, my knees pull up to my chest, but I don’t drop my gaze. His dark eyes stare back at me, and he gives my hand another little squeeze. “Don’t do that, Angel. Don’t try to hide now, not when I can finally see you. And you can see me.”
I let my knees fall to the side, facing him. My voice is quiet but steady as I meet his eyes, needing to see every nuance of his reaction. “Is this real for you? Because it’s real for me. And as scared as I am about all this crazy mob stuff . . .” I wave my hand around, gesturing outside the truck, then place my hand on my heart. “I think I’m more scared that this is some pretend piece of the character you’re playing and that you’re going to walk away from me when it’s all done, leave me alone, broken, and not knowing real from pretend.”