OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(16)

Mario left, and Louie shambled out behind him. As he did, he gave Carla an awkward glance which she pointedly ignored. They closed the door behind them and Shimizu turned to Carla and Gio.



“Would you like to order something?” he asked.



“Actually, before we start, I'm going to duck into the ladies' room for a moment,” Carla said, standing. “I drank a little too much coffee in the car on the way over.”



“Hey, that's kinda too much information for a guy you just met, ain't it?” Gio smirked.



Carla shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. I spend most of my time around male lawyers, and they're fairly open about that kind of thing.”



“Well, try not to do it around me, okay?” Gio said. “I like my women to act classy.”



Yeah, I'll just bet you do, Carla thought. And I'm not one of your women, asshole.



“I'll try to remember that,” she said, stepping out the private room's side door.



She found the bathroom and went in, carefully locking the door behind her. Then she dialed the number to connect directly with Don. He picked up immediately.



“Can you believe that jackass Louie, runnin' his mouth off like that?” Don asked furiously. “Screw federal prison, we oughtta save the taxpayers money an' just tar an' feather him!”



“That'd be too good for him,” Carla said. She kept her voice as low as possible in case anyone was listening at the door. “Listen, about what he told them...”



“Yeah, yeah, we got our tech guys workin' on all that,” Don assured her. “If anyone tries to look it up, they'll find an obit for Phillip Hackton from a few years back, sayin' he was survived by his lovin' daughter Carolyn. An' no, in case you were wonderin', there wasn't never any 'Phillip Hackton' who taught at Stanford Law, so our people are workin' with the Stanford IT staff to get him added to their records as fast as we can.”



“Will it hold up?” Carla asked.



“It should leave enough of a trail for anyone who's casually lookin' into it,” Don said, “just like the fake social media accounts our guys set up for you, so it didn't look like you just popped outta thin air. Most people search for someone, a few pages here an' there are enough to satisfy 'em. But if the Mancinis get someone more savvy to look into it, like a private investigator...well, now that Louie's muddied the river with his tall tales, darlin', I just don't know.”



“Fuck,” she hissed. Her first hour undercover, and already everything was turning to shit.



“You sure you still want to go ahead with this?” Don asked. “'Cause with things off to a bad start like this, there'd be no shame in scrappin' the whole deal. Hell, half the guys I know would probably do the same thing.”



Half the guys you know, Carla thought. Not half the agents, but half the men. Because you know I'm worried that if I backed off now, they'll say it was because I'm a woman and I just couldn't cut it as an undercover agent after all.



But she knew she couldn't do that. Not because she owed it to herself or to any of the other women in the Bureau.



Because she owed it to Fred.



“I'm still in it to win it, Don,” she said. “As long as Louie doesn't do anything else to fuck it up, like yanking off his mic and running around the room with it.”



“The way things are goin' so far, hon, that could be a distinct possibility. Just watch yourself out there.”



“I will,” Carla said, hanging up.



But in her mind, the click of the call ending sounded like a heavy steel door swinging shut and locking behind her, and she suddenly felt very trapped and alone.





Chapter 8




Carla



Carla returned to the back room and sat down.



“There you are!” Gio exclaimed. “I was starting to think you drowned in there.”



“Sorry about that,” Carla replied, looking around. “Thanks for your patience. Where are the menus?”



“No need,” Gio said. “I already ordered for both of us.” His posture was loose and relaxed, but Carla didn't like the way he was looking at her—like a hungry predator in the wild, eyeing a herd of prey to determine the slowest and weakest among them.



“I generally prefer to order for myself, actually.” Carla tried to hide her annoyance. She hated it when men ordered for her on dates as though she didn't have a mind of her own, and she was even more peeved by Gio's presumption.



They'd known each other for about two minutes in a professional capacity, and he was already acting like he knew what was best for her? Who the hell did he think he was?



“Nah, you're gonna love this,” Gio insisted. “Tuna sashimi with seaweed salad, plus a couple of Sapporos. What's not to like?”