"You have got to be f*ck
ing kidding me." I said. I didn't mean to be so damn angry, but I couldn't help it. I'd expected more from her.
She shook her head. "I need to do this. With or without your support. You don't understand," she said as she bowed her head. "I see my uncle's dead body every time I fall asleep. When he was missing, I had to act sympathetic and pretend I knew nothing about it when asked by his wife. His children. They all knew he'd been killed. Probably by the mob. But they never thought it would be our own family. I never thought my father would do something like that to one of his own."
She didn't know her father very well, after all.
Her earnest feelings killed the rage I was feeling at her defiance. They made me see things from her eyes. It was obvious that she was hurting. That she was scared. I knew that. I had to respect it.
"You're right. This is very important to you. But it is also very dangerous, so you need to take precautions tomorrow. Do you understand?"
"We're meeting-" I held up a hand and stopped her.
"Don't tell me. Don't tell me anything. I can't know any of the details. I can't know anything about it. If they question me I have to be able to tell them the truth, do you understand? Right now, the truth is that Michael contacted you, and I sent him away. It was stupid. I'll probably get a beating, but I won't get killed. They'll track him down and kill him. That's all I know, and that's all I can know. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Good, now let’s talk about this dinner of yours. I'm starving."
Chapter Ten
Kathryn
Maria's Bakery. I stared up at it, taking in the sight of it. Little Italy was so close to all of the nice neighborhoods like the Fells Point and Inner Harbor, but there was still a seediness about it that made you want to clutch your purse.
The bakery was the perfect example of that.
It was housed in a stucco building that looked like it needed some work, and it stood out on the corner with a gorgeous mural on the side wall. A woman pulling bread from a brick oven with black hair and a gorgeous smile on her lips. It was the perfect mix of beautiful and sad, especially with the peeling stucco on the edges.
Breathtaking. That was the only way to describe it. It made me want to write an inspired piece for my Violin.
I really missed playing with other people. I’d been practicing alone since I got home from Chicago, but this was the first time I felt inspired.
It was part of what I missed about this city when I was in Chicago. Sure, Chicago had its things, too, but Baltimore was my home. I would never understand the nuances of anywhere else the way I did Baltimore. The hope and desperation. The dark seedy sadness mixed with light and love. It was my city.
And I missed it.
Even if I wanted to deny it, this city would always be my home.
I walked into the little bakery and looked around, searching for the man on the phone. It wasn't until I saw him in the back corner that I gasped.
It wasn't just any contact. It was Michael.
He'd been the federal agent the whole time?
I walked towards the back, my eyebrows furrowed.
"Were you followed?" he asked.
"No." Janson had explained in detail before he left for work just how to spot a tail and avoid one. He had been very thorough, but no one even knew I was in town except his people.
No one followed me.
"I can't believe it's you." I shook my head. How could he? Why didn't he just tell me? So many questions rolled around in my head.
"Well, who else would it be?" he asked. "I wouldn't trust you to anyone else in the bureau."
He looked like a different man with the well-tailored suit and the orange tie to match his pocket square. He held himself differently, though, with more confidence.
"How long have you been working for the FBI?" I asked. I wanted to know how long he'd been betraying my family. What his plans were. I wanted to know exactly who he was.
"We didn't come here to talk about that," he said. He was deflecting, but I wouldn't have it.
"How long?" I asked. I was curious, but I needed him to give me something. Some kind of information that I could use against him if I needed to.
"Since I graduated college. So about ten years. Been with the family for nine," he answered. That was a long ass time. He'd always wanted to betray the family. That had been his goal from the start. So why act now?
"And you aren't from Pittsburgh?" I asked. "Is anything you've told us true?"
"Oh, I am. It's all true. But I've wanted revenge for a long time, Kathryn. Since I was a teenager." He bent his head. "Your family, the family in Pittsburgh. They've all done things that deserve it. You saw your uncle killed. For me, it was my brother."
I could see the truth in his eyes and I wanted to sympathize with him. Hell, I did.
I was sure I was doing the right thing.