A Debt Owed-A Promise Made Page 2

  Still, Brooklyn signed away her life and now she owed him. She owed all of them.

  It was time to pay up.

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes later, all questions had been answered about Brooklyn, the former Information Operations Center Analysis Group agent. Braxton added a few personal points, offering more about Brooklyn, the person, in an effort to humanize the woman he’d almost discredited, which hadn’t been part of his original intentions.

  Recent surveillance reports had suggested she and Dante were becoming too cozy and what he’d discovered was unsettling. Dante was definitely pursuing her for more than friendship. He’d been spotted frequenting jewelry stores and shopping for engagement rings.

  Braxton strolled across the boardroom and studied Harry, the agent who would work with Brooklyn as her handler. Then, he turned his attention to those who would provide back up as things progressed.

  He saw the hunger building in their eyes. He sensed their apprehension and their excitement, their commitment and desire for a successful assignment.

  Dante Mancini was an evil man, the kind of villain who not only attacked adults, but also manipulated criminal situations which deliberately placed women and children in the line of fire.

  He was cruel and calculating, a man living with the devil inside him. The world wouldn’t miss Dante if he were taken out by inappropriate measures.

  The war was on, and Braxton, not to mention the Santiago family—a family that had taken very good care of Braxton in recent years—wanted Mancini at any cost. They’d given Braxton the green light.

  Now, everyone prepared for casualties, braced for loss of life. The Santiago camp didn’t care how Braxton and his team secured Dante, so long as they caught him. Braxton’s bosses wanted him too, but they wanted him when they were assured the charges pinned on him would stick.

  Harry, just days away from retirement, stood. His presence alone meant something in that room. The man earned his respect. He’d paid plenty of dues. “Let me ask you something, Braxton. Do you think we’ll have a more difficult time with Dante than we had with Martino?”

  “I’m not following you,” Braxton said, probing.

  “Well, here’s the way I see this thing playin’ out. Brooklyn—and don’t get me wrong, I ain’t holdin’ a grudge against her or anything—but she was, in many ways, responsible for the things Martino was permitted to get away with in the first place. Thanks to her, deals were made, charges overlooked, evidence vanished, and the list goes on. We don’t have any guarantees history won’t repeat itself.”

  Braxton rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his peer spoke. Harry may have been up in years and closing fast on retirement, but he still had razor sharp instincts and a darn good memory. His previous connections with Brooklyn earned him the position of her handler. They were as thick as thieves and this little public show of doubt was nothing more than well-rehearsed theatrics.

  Those among them exchanged whispers, obviously buying into the fact that Harry didn’t trust her. Harry would cut off his arm for her. He’d been like a father to her.

  “All I’m sayin’ is it’s hard to forget the past, much less forgive those who made it so daunting. With Brooklyn’s help, we could’ve stopped Martino. Instead, she enabled him.”

  “She protected him,” the rookie said. “Or so that’s the story.”

  “Those are the facts, kid,” Harry said. “She went out of her way to make sure the father of her child never served a day in jail.”

  Braxton took a deep breath. He wondered why Harry was trying to stir trouble by pointing out legitimate concerns. Had he turned on Brooklyn? Did he resent his assignment as her handler? Had he wanted a more challenging role in the investigation? “We don’t have any guarantees, but by putting our plans in motion now, we have a better shot at a more satisfying outcome.”

  “I hope you believe that, Braxton,” Harry said, always on a first-name basis with everyone. “If you don’t, we’re just wasting taxpayers’ dollars here.”

  “When we faced off with Martino Mancini, things were different. We didn’t have the innovative technology we have today. Plus, Martino had Brooklyn in his corner almost from the beginning. This time, Brooklyn will be on our side.”

  “You sound hopeful, Braxton. You don’t sound like a man providing your team with cold, hard facts. That’s disturbing.”

  To say the least.

  “Harry, we have to look at these two cases as separate entities. With Martino, we couldn’t really blame Brooklyn for what happened. In many ways, we were all accountable for the crimes Martino had been permitted to commit in the first place. He used Brooklyn to gain intelligence. And no one realized how close she was to the situation until it was too late. The blame is here if it needs to be placed somewhere.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Harry said, setting his jaw.

  Braxton’s fears unfolded before his very eyes. Harry blamed him without any persuasion. And yes, he deserved to own the past mistakes.

  Brooklyn had provided Martino with information she’d gained from Braxton. Martino had been in control from the get-go. He’d been told that they were watching him, and he’d known when to bail because Brooklyn had given him the flee-order. She’d provided him with a play-by-play account of what was happening with the investigation and he’d always been one step ahead of them.

  In the end, Martino waged a drug war no one knew how to stop. When law enforcement agents were close to making an arrest, Martino became a hostile force witnesses never saw, law enforcement never heard, and his enemies never faced.

  He struck from behind then slithered away in the darkness. He left terror in his wake, and the dead told unkind stories.

  The bodies discovered all held similar facial expressions. Braxton had the grave task of working a few of the crime scenes where Martino’s victims had been found.

  Martino Mancini’s victims shared common threads. Most of his enemies lost their lives in a battle where they probably didn’t see their killer until it was too late. Wide still eyes and opened mouths were a Mancini signature stamped upon the faces of those who must’ve known only a second before their death that they’d met their fate. Mancini victims said hello to a killer and in doing so, looked straight ahead counting on a future they’d only be able to greet after crossing over to the other side.

  “Brooklyn may look like a soft and fragile woman on the outside, but she’s still the same gal underneath,” Harry pointed out, luring him away from his thoughts.

  “Good point,” Braxton agreed, turning to his attentive audience. “Don’t be easily fooled, men. As an agent, Brooklyn was one of the best regardless of who signed her checks. She’s an accurate shot, skilled in weaponry many of you haven’t even seen, much less learned how to master.

  “She’s a quick thinker which makes her temper tantrums and anger all the more deadly. If she seeks retaliation, she gains retribution without waiting. She analyzes what she needs to accomplish on a moment’s notice and acts out, seeking revenge on the spot. And don’t expect an apology if you get in her way and piss her off.”

  “He ain’t lyin’,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “So what’s with her and Martino’s brother?”

  Braxton took a deep breath. He would provide a simplified version. “Many acquainted with the Mancini family believe Dante is in awe of her. It’s our hope he’s so mesmerized by the woman he’s wanted in his bed that he’ll forget how his brother first met her.”

  “Which was?” Someone from the back of the room posed the question.

  “Martino Mancini was brought in here for questioning. Brooklyn interrogated him and some present that day would attest to the fact that they had an instant connection.”

  Braxton winced with the memory. He remembered everything about that particular January morning. It was worse than Beauty and the Beast. At their initial meeting where mob boss met the former CIA agent, Martino had been worse than a rabid dog. And Brooklyn was quite possibly the only
one who could’ve put him down. Instead, she befriended him.

  Then, they fell in love.

  “As it was, the Costello and Mancini families had a history, one no one knew about. The two families go way back.” Harry said, as if to justify why the couple formed an unbreakable bond. “Funny damn thing, it was, the Costello family has an Irish-Italian heritage and the clan has a motto which was sure befittin’ of that deranged relationship.”

  “What’s that?” the rookie asked, throwing his arm over the chair and staring at Harry, who remained seated in the back of the room.

  “Ne te quaesiveris extra.”

  “What does it mean exactly?” the rookie asked.

  Harry frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes showing proof of his age. In a low voice, he said, “Seek nothing beyond your sphere.”

  The rookie looked at Braxton. “And you expect her to be loyal to us this time around? One would think you’d already learned your lessons.”

  Braxton needed his team to believe in Brooklyn. Even though harbored doubts restricted how much confidence could be placed in the wife of a former mob boss, he had to remember her strengths and past promises, oaths he expected Brooklyn to honor.

  Clicking to the next frame, he said, “Let’s stay focused here, boys.” He pointed the remote to the screen depicting Brooklyn at a Manhattan nightspot. “Brooklyn is a heavy drinker. Some say if Mancini hadn’t gotten to her, the booze surely would’ve. Prior to meeting Martino, several agents had recommended her for an in-house addiction program. According to some, after Martino’s death, she returned to her old habits. She drinks Bloody Marys like an energy drink and takes hers with extra pepper and celery.”

  “What are we now, bartenders at the Hilton?” the rookie asked, snorting at the provided information.

  The door behind his audience slammed. Braxton looked up in time to see Brooklyn strutting toward the front of the room.

  “No doll, but I’m sure the Hilton could find a bar for you to tend if you’re in the market for a new career.” She taunted the young fellow, careful to avoid Braxton’s eyes. Instead, she stopped within inches of the young man who would undoubtedly fall under her alluring spell. “I don’t like to keep men waiting. Inexperienced rookies who can learn from an older woman, however, are a different story.”

  The young fellow grimaced. “I’m not inexperienced, lady. You can bet your sweet ass on that fact.”

  In Brooklyn style, she moistened her lips and eyed his cock, making the effort to rubberneck and glance under the table. The agents and local cops around the room chuckled.

  With a highly exaggerated sigh, she said, “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Billy Mamazza.”

  “Sicilian.”

  “Someone said you have a thing for Italians.”

  She smirked. “And you want a piece of the action because I have a thing for Italians?”

  “After seeing your pictures, what can I say? I have a weakness for beautiful women.”

  Young and apparently just naïve enough to think he could handle Brooklyn, Mamazza stood. He looped his thumbs in his belt loop and eyed Brooklyn’s body like she was born eager to holster any man’s cocked weapon, loaded gun.

  Her lips curved in a dangerous smile. Braxton immediately realized Billy Mamazza appealed to Brooklyn on some level. Her expression gave her away, but for a split second, she acted as if she might bring the young agent to his knees, too.

  A black belt in karate, if she needed to make an example of him, Brooklyn had the ability to take him to the floor. Braxton wouldn’t have minded. Maybe then the men there, the guys pining for the inside job, would have respected her more. A demonstration might have separated the men from the boys, the seasoned specialist from the top agents in the field.

  She should’ve taken the opportunity to draw the lines of separation. If nothing else, those present would’ve seen her for more than a sex symbol, all boobs and curves, something they weren’t amiss in noticing given the number of jaws that dropped when she’d entered the room.

  Instead of grabbing opportunity by the horns, she shyly bowed her head and blushed as if she’d called for pink cheeks on command. In an instant, she acted more like a debutante than a deadly agent. “Are you good with your hands, Billy?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Good God,” Harry grumbled. “Here we go.”

  “You know it,” Billy replied, standing taller with pure male confidence.

  “Fabulous,” she purred, adding a theatrical roll of her tongue. “I can’t have someone guarding me unless they’re great with their hands.”

  “Guard, hell,” Harry grumbled.

  She acknowledged his outburst with a quick wink. “It’s been a long time, Harry. How are ya, handsome?”

  “Agin’ like fine wine. You?”

  “About the same,” she quickly informed him, never missing a beat. Turning to Braxton, she added, “Hello stranger. As always, your timing sucks, but it’s nice to see you.”

  “You too, Brooklyn,” he said, unconcerned with his poor timing.

  She made her way to the front of the room and stood directly before him. Their eyes met, and her expression never changed. Awe-struck as always, he didn’t notice her quick leg movement until it was too late.

  She drew her leg back and kneed him right in the groin, the whole time keeping a tight, fake smile. “Ah geez, looks like I still can’t control my legs. They just bend and spread before I have time to think about the consequences. I’m worse than a working whore doing tricks for a fix.”

  “Ah gods!” Braxton screamed, doubling over. Agonizing bolts of pain shot across his scrotum, straight up his dick. Reaching for the nearby table, he gripped the Formica top and through clenched teeth shouted, “Damn you, Brooklyn!”

  “Apparently she isn’t as fond of you as you are of her, Agent Marshall,” the rookie said.

  Staring down on him with unforgiving eyes, Brooklyn said, “That’s for calling in a favor at the worst possible time.”

  “Fuck you,” he said quietly so only Brooklyn could hear, still unable to straighten his back and look his attacker in the eye. The damn bitch may have left him forever ruined in the male accessory department.

  She used his bowed back for balance and leaned over him. Nipping at his ear, she hissed, “That’s for making the deal with me when you knew damn well my dead husband didn’t need one in the first place. You realized the clock had already started ticking and the hours on his life had long since expired. Still, you cut that worthless deal. So there’s a little payback, honey. And let’s not forget those countless hours I spent screwing you when I didn’t know the difference between true love and fuck-lust.”

  “Damn it, Brooklyn. We have an audience.” he grated out. “Besides, that’s not what happened and you know it.”

  “I. Don’t. Care. I really don’t, Braxton.” She used the weight of his body to throw herself into an upright position, leaving him in a vulnerable crouch. “In fact, I stopped giving a damn the second you called in a favor, a special request you’ll live to regret. That’s a promise, baby. And I always keep my word.”

  Chapter Two

  Turning toward the room, Brooklyn eyed the projector before focusing on the large screen. While Braxton regained some of his composure and probably bandaged his wounded pride, she said, “I’m sure you’ve all been briefed. After Braxton ices his balls, maybe he can let me know what he expects. I’m sure he has a long list of needs and wants.”

  “For God’s sake, Brooklyn,” Harry said, standing. “Show some professionalism.”

  “I’m retired, Harry,” she snapped, refusing to take mercy on anyone. “As you should be, too, apparently.”

  Harry’s nostrils flared. Instead of arguing a moot point, he returned to his seat, showing his age even more by giving up too soon.

  “Now then, let’s get down to business,” she said, pausing to shoot Braxton a sideways glance. “I think it’s only fair to warn you. I’m in lo
ve with Dante Mancini. At one time, I loved his brother very much. I would’ve done anything in this world for him.” She studied the faces of those she’d worked alongside in the past. “Most of you know that from experience.”

  “You don’t love Dante,” Braxton mumbled, squaring his shoulders and standing erect. “The only thing you love is that Mancini name.”

  “A name I already have,” she reminded him.

  An undeniable look of disgust washed across his face. The moment was like déjà vu.

  “Dante has been very good to my little girl,” she continued. “And let’s not forget he shares the same blood. Dante is Ariela’s uncle. We’re already family.”

  Someone rose from the back of the room. She didn’t recognize him but he apparently had something on his mind. He slowly approached her, his face red with fury. “Do you know why you’re here, Mrs. Mancini?” Given the contempt in his voice, he apparently thought she’d be insulted by the way he chose to address her.

  “Oh I know why I’m here, Officer,” she said, hoping the other fellows would view the way she addressed him as deliberate and insulting. “I’ve been called upon to help with the criminal investigation. I’m here because Braxton wants me to put Dante Mancini away.”

  “You just said you loved him,” Agent Mamazza reminded her, still staring at her breasts. She didn’t think he’d looked anywhere else since she’d entered the room.

  Leaning over the table in front of Billy, she pressed her arms against her ribcage, pushing up her cleavage for show. “Mr. Mamazza, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Twenty-three,” she said, mulling over his reply. So the rookie had connections. Otherwise he wouldn’t be there. It was too risky to put a young gun on this kind of case.

  “Ever had sex?” Might as well treat him like a boy toy and let him know how it felt to be a sex object, particularly since he didn’t have a chance in hell of earning respect from his fellow agents.