“You’re quiet,” Rob says, stealing a glance at me as he drives us back to Manhattan.
“I’m always quiet. You’re the one who can yap like a woman.”
“Now you’re hilarious. Thinking about Politto?”
“Yeah.” I lie.
I’m not. I’m thinking about her. Since seeing her at the gym two days ago, she’s the only damned thing that’s been on my mind. I haven’t thought about Politto or the case once. And since this morning, I haven’t thought of anything other than the taste of her lips. I can only imagine what the rest of her tastes like.
“How did Farley sound?”
“What?”
Rob looks at me again. “How. Did. Farley. Sound?”
“Pissed off like he always sounds.”
He releases a heady sigh. “What do you think he wants?”
“No clue.” I have to force myself to think of my job. This distraction is exactly what I wanted to avoid. The only thing that should be on my mind is Politto.
I twist to grab my bag from behind my seat. The folder that I packed containing the case details hasn’t been opened since I left my apartment. I read over the fact sheet for the hundredth time, even though I have it committed to memory.
Politto’s father, Victor Sr., was an underboss in the Volante family out of Chicago. Politto and Angelo Volante were as close as brothers. Volante was killed in his home twenty-three years ago. Politto Sr. immediately became the boss of the Volante family. A few days later, Volante’s wife and child were tragically killed in a fire. Suspicions quickly rose over Volante’s death, all pointing to Politto. Politto Sr. was soon after convicted of Volante’s murder, based off the testimony of an informant. Politto was sentenced to life without parole. The rat was believed to be someone very close to the Volante family. Politto Sr. continued to run the family from his cell, with his eldest son acting as underboss. All hell broke loose when Politto was killed in prison. Politto Jr. now trusts no one left from Volante’s reign.
“So, we have a rat on the loose and Politto Jr. has a hard-on to find him,” I say what I’m thinking out loud.
“That’s assuming this rat is the same one that put Politto Sr. in prison, and that the rat is still alive.”
“True, but Politto must know that he’s still out there. He wouldn’t be taking this risk to possibly start an internal war simply based on a hunch.”
Rob pulls into the lot near FBI headquarters. Minutes later, we’re escorted to a briefing room to find Farley scribbling on a whiteboard. Pictures are taped at the top, with an organizational chart of sorts beneath each one. At the very top of the board is Politto Jr.’s picture.
“Thank you for getting back quickly.” Farley turns to face us. “I already briefed the rest of the team.”
“What happened?” Rob asks as we both take a seat at the center table.
“Frank is missing. He is always at the club on the last Saturday of the month. Our mole said he hasn’t been there in three days.”
“So now what?”
Farley pulls in a deep breath and looks at the board. “Something must have happened to cause Politto to move so quickly. We were counting on Frank being around for a while.” He points to one of the pictures below Politto. “This is Razzo. He owns The Social Workout with Politto. He was also one of Volante’s main men. We think he’s next on Politto’s radar.” Farley takes a seat across from us at the table. He hands us each membership cards to The Social Workout. “The gym has been used as a front. They never expected it to succeed as it has. Because of their success we suspect that they are now moving all drug traffic to their other businesses that are less visible. You two need to snoop around.”
“The gym memberships are not under our real names,” Rob says.
Farley nods. “For now, they are just to be used to get access to the gyms without question. Don’t reveal you are cops until you’ve scoped out each location first. Those three gyms will be your second homes for the next few days.” He hands us two photos, both of the same man. “This is Todd Smyth. He’s general manager of the three gym locations. Eventually, he’ll be the first you question on Frank’s disappearance. Not yet.”
Smyth is “bald body builder meets biker” who does not look like he’d be a good fit for the mob. Both arms are heavily tattooed. From what I can see, he has no other tats on his upper torso except for one line of barbed wire that runs around his neck.
“All communication happens from your burner phones. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“Report back in three days, and then you’ll begin questioning Smyth.” With a nod, Farley dismisses us. Halfway out of the room Rob remembers his engagement.
“One thing. I’m getting married.”
“Congrats,” Farley says. When Rob continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway, Farley adds, “What? You want me to be your flower girl?”
“No,” Rob responds as if Farley was serious. “We’d like to plan a wedding this fall. Ben’s my best man. We’d be gone at least a week. Would that be an issue?”
“Let’s hope this case doesn’t stretch that far. We’ll work around it if we have to. I may be a hard-ass, but I’m a fair one.”
Over the next few days, Rob and I cased each location of Social Workouts. We split up and hit them at different times of the day. I purposefully went to the location that Ella uses during working hours, knowing she was at her office. I can’t make heads or tails over what it is I want from her. My head wants to avoid her as much as possible. My heart wants to spend every waking moment with her. My cock wants to fuck her hard and move on.
Three extremes.
Rob thought it was best to stay at my apartment during the few days we needed to scope out the gyms. He had Andrea staying with Ella to keep her close by. When he went over to visit or have a dinner, I chose to stay at my place. He knows that the last time I saw her I came dangerously close to crossing a line. I didn’t tell him. His big mouth fiancée did. I couldn’t even be angry about it because it caused them to stop meddling. I’m not sure if Ella influenced them or if my behavior did. I assume Ella shared every detail of our balcony tryst with Andrea. The signs all point to me trying to get into her pants that night. The way I kissed her, the things I said can’t be confused with anything other than being a licentious prick.
The thing is, it wasn’t licentiousness that drove that kiss. That’s the part that has me staying clear of her. It’s something else. There’s this lure about her that sucks me in like a vacuum. When around her, I’m nothing but a weightless dust ball that can completely disappear with just a flip of a switch. The only part of the real Ben Stone that is evident when around Ella is the smartass snarky cop. I think it’s because I love her reactions when I tease her. It takes her sexiness to a new level. Otherwise, the Ben Stone that is happy being alone is nowhere to be found when in the company of Ella Parker.
Damn it.
Once again, I’m wasting my brain cells on that woman.
I increase the incline and speed of the treadmill beneath me to force my brain elsewhere. Working out has become an outlet to release pent up frustrations in the past, sexual or otherwise. After my mother was killed, working out became my addiction. Any other normal teenager may have resorted to drugs or alcohol to numb the pain. That would have made me just like my father. I’d rather put a bullet in my head than to become like him. Punishing my body physically became my drug. The more pain I feel in my legs, the better I feel in my head. Transfer of pain, if you will.
I stared at that letter my aunt handed me for what seemed like an eternity. My full name and address had been typed on the envelope. When I finally ripped it open, there was one tiny piece of paper with one typed paragraph.
Destroy immediately.
You’ll never understand what drove me to commit such a despicable act. I owed the wrong people a lot of money. In spite of what you believe, my children meant the world to me. So much so, I traded my life and that of my wife’s as well.
Victor Politto accepted the trade.
That’s all it said, yet it spoke volumes. At the time, I had no idea who the fuck Victor Politto was. I decided I would make it my business to know every fucking thing that I could know regarding that cocksucker.
I robotically walked into the kitchen, burnt the letter, and went out for a two-hour run.
My workout leaves me antsy. I’ve been here for hours and don’t want to draw attention. After a few chicks tried to “pick me up”, I decide to call it a day and head home to organize my notes. We are due to conference with Farley tonight, and I want to make sure I haven’t missed anything obvious.
Just as I exit the locker rooms, I see Smyth walking out of the gym. I quicken my pace and make it to the street as he hops into the back of a black Mercedes and speeds off.
Fuck.
I just missed him. This is the first time I’ve seen the man. Rob hasn’t had any luck at all. I’ve made small talk with some of the management and staff, but nothing worth a shit has surfaced.
My trash phone beeps with a text while I’m climbing the stairs to my apartment.
Headquarters.
I run up the last few floors, throw my bag into my apartment, and head right back out to get downtown. Twenty minutes later, I’m walking into the briefing room. Most of the team is already assembled. Many are chatting among themselves as we wait for the rest to arrive. Rob comes in a few minutes after I do. He sits beside me wordlessly.
When the last member walks through the door, Farley says, “There’s been a shooting. Parton has been killed execution style in his apartment.”
Officer Parton was our mole. He was working undercover and became a regular at The Pole. He recently wore a wire, planted a bug on Frank, and captured several conversations with an unknown party regarding a heroin drop under Smyth’s control.
“He’s been discovered. Forensics is combing the place. His death will no doubt draw media attention. He was found after a neighbor heard the shots. The funeral will include full military honors, casket guards, and twenty-four/seven watch. Immediately following, the team captains will be flying to Chicago headquarters. We’re joining forces. That fucker has been tied to at least seven murders, three of them in Chicago. We haven’t found evidence on any of them. With Frank’s disappearance, hopefully, that dumb fuck left something behind. We’re also revisiting the Volante cases.”
Farley points to us and says, “Stone and Withers, I want Smyth brought in for questioning in Frank’s disappearance by the end of the week.”
Farley barks out a few more orders and dismisses us.
“Want to grab something to eat later? I’m meeting Andrea.”
His question stops me in my tracks. Does that include Ella? “No, I’ve got things to do.”
“She’s not coming,” he adds, reading my mind. “She’ll be at the gym.”
“Shouldn’t you be taking advantage of an empty apartment?”
“Damn, why didn’t I think of that? You’re right.” He grabs his jacket and says, “Thanks, dude.”
I know that Ella goes to the gym after work, but now that I know that Ella is going to the gym after work, it’s all I can think about. The vision of her sparring makes my inner-prick stand at attention.
I need to go home and think of anything other than Ella Parker. I hop the subway and hit the pizza place around the corner. Begrudgingly, I sit in my empty apartment eating it alone. I despise spending time here. Having Rob here with me these past few days has been a great distraction.
When the walls feel as if they are closing in on me, I grab my keys and before I know it, I’m outside Social Workouts peering through the front window like a fucking creeper. I’m not a creeper. Yet, here I am hoping to catch a glimpse of her. In the far back corner, I see a flash of a chestnut colored ponytail as a woman runs on the treadmill. I swear my cock jerks.
“Hey, you.”
“Natalia.”
Fuck me.
As she stands here, I can’t help but compare her to Ella. Ella is such a natural beauty. She barely wears makeup. She’s sexy with minimal effort. Nat is the exact opposite. She’s hot in an obvious way. If you were to have side-by-side shots of Nat first thing in the morning versus made up and dressed, you’d think they were two different people. Even now, she looks like she’s ready to go clubbing instead of working out.
“Are you a member?” she asks hopefully.
“No, not really. I was thinking about it, but it’s not really my scene. You?”
She shrugs, crossing her arms defensively. “I heard it’s a great place to meet people. I thought to myself, why not?”
Over Nat’s head, I see Ella come off of the treadmill and head for the sparring mat. This is a sign. Nat being here is an omen to stay the fuck away from Ella.
“So, are you coming or going?” Nat asks, watching me watch Ella. “Who’s she?”
“No clue,” I respond with a shrug. “Actually, I’m going. Do you want to grab a drink?”
The minute her eyes light up, I regret my question. “Sure. I can work out tomorrow.”
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Want to go to that new place over on Park?” she asks, hope dripping from each word.
“I have an early call tomorrow. Let’s just go next door.” This way I’d get to see Ella leaving the gym and walking home if we sit near the window.
Shit.
Nat looks at the dive bar a few storefronts away and wrinkles her nose. I’m sure Ella wouldn’t have a problem with this place. It’s real, just like her.
Ella, Ella, Ella. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Okay,” she concedes. She hooks her arm through mine and says, “Let’s go.”
As we walk the short distance, I debate shooting myself in the head with my gun.