Mafia in Death - an In Death series fanfic (J.D. Robb)

Chapter 4

"What the fuck are you talking about?", Eve gasped, unaware that she announced her thoughts loudly. Both men looked at her in bewilderment, but with different apprehensions.

Don Miguel was surprised when she suddenly stood up, tumbling her chair on the floor, and looked at him like he had sprouted another head.

Roarke was torn in between. He wanted to rush towards Eve, protect and comfort her, but he didn't want to put her in an obvious situation, especially when she's trying to control herself and battled her emotions.

"I won't do any effort to haul and waste time with you if I'm talking shite here.", the Don declared.

The two were aware of that, and he's not masking his pissed face either, but his request was something they don't want to tackle anymore. It was a case they couldn't forget because of its traumatic memories for both of them, especially Eve, reminding her about childhood pain of denial and neglect.

That woman was her mother.

Feeling lost, Roarke left his post and fetch a glass of water, one for Eve and the other for the Don. The two took it and drank like they’re drowning themselves on their miseries, placed it on a small table in front and returned to the topic.

"I might be the one who examined the Unsub, but I'm not the Primary.”.

It was Peabody. She assigned her to instigate those who were connected to the murder of a medical and McQueen’s escape in Rikers, while she followed his trail to Dallas. She stood at the corpse of his murdered accomplice, labelled her as UNSUB, though in her reports she named her Sylvia and Sister Suzan, but couldn’t fathom to put Stella.

"But you’re the superior, the one who reported Unsub’s crime scene, and the last person who interrogated her before she was killed. Why would I go to the one who received second-hand information if I can tap the direct source?"

"So the party was your ploy to lure us here, Why?", Roarke inserted.

The Don shrugged. "You know me as a man who kept my word, and when I say negotiation, that means we'll have agreements. But then, I am a man with a not-so good image in terms of legalities, and very fond of preserving it. That’s why I did this."

He was about to add more, but stopped himself. He returned his focus on Eve, who happened to share the same pissed and confused expression.

“I’ve been searching for that woman for years, decades, almost used all my espediente, but she’s damn slick criminal. I finally got wind with her, but she’s already dead.”

“And in those years of searching, you never contacted the authorities?”

There was an accusation on her tone, but he accepted it and answered “I can’t.”

The question hung, but the Don did not explain further. He knew he’s at Eve’s mercy to investigate the case for him, but he couldn’t reveal more behind the story without her assurance.

Nausea was building up inside Eve. The humming silence was like a one-two punch in her gut that shook her system. In front of him was an Italian man he only met for the first time, but he’s forcing her to unlock the dark memories of her past. Without him knowing.

“I am from Homicide, and you’re requesting something that is out of my scope, and out of my league, and you’re not cooperating! More, you have no right to entrap us in this place then beg to do some favour of investigating a dead person’s past who happened to be in my plate! Missing persons – ”

She was blabbering now. Angered and pissed and shaken, it's almost unbelievable how she could still contain herself not to boot and ran away. Blood was pounding on her eyes and barely felt Roarke’s hands on her fists.

And the person she’s mad with met her with the same tensed feeling.

“If you’re assuming that I’m using my past connection with your husband in order to get you, then you’re wrong. Whether it’s you or anybody else, as long as that person encountered her even for a slight second, I’ll see them. I’ll talk to them in discretion about the clues of her whereabouts, no matter how small my chances are. But then, that woman could alter her identity and go to different countries, so I have to comb all places of this goddamn globe, check those she had visited, ask myself ‘Where did she left her?’”

He picked up the child’s photograph in the table and slipped it back to his pocket.

“Who would ever think that she lost her life in Dallas, of all places?”, he murmured. “Does that also mean that I lost all the chances to find her?”

That completely broke Eve.

Roarke immediately took over. "The Lieutenant has explicitly mentioned that she won't handle the case, so that ends the deal. Leave."

The Don sensed the danger in his voice and the murderous intent in his darkened blue eyes. His back was like a great fortress, protecting his wife from further inquiries, and a signal of the end’s deal.

“Tonight was very shite, and I apologized for the dismay I caused. But I hope this is not the end.”, he said as he rose up, defeated, “Arrivederci.”

And he left without turning back.

Ramon hurried towards Don Miguel when he went outside the yacht, and saw a heavy cloud that was hung on his head. The negotiation failed.

“Did I do something wrong?”, the Don asked to no one, with a voice shook with disappointment. He’s too damn exhausted. He looked at his stubby hands and noticed the red marks of his cane’s engraved holder. He must have gripped it tightly out of frustration.

His plan of having a smooth conversation over a casual case talk with the Lieutenant was blown into pieces. Whether the misappropriate actions of his incompetent men or his direct plea about searching his kin had caused it, he had no idea. Probably both.

This was the first time he ever told his story to a police office, and never imagined to ask for help in other parties. But he already started it, and no way he’ll back out. Sure Roarke was a very dangerous man and very influential in both legal and illegal practices, but he’s too young put a fear in his soul.

Ramon didn’t pry, but as they treaded their way back to their car, he knew the Don’s next step. He started the engine and waited for his command.

“Prepare our things, Ramon. We’ll go to New York.”