Mr. and Mrs. Rossi - Chapter #3 - Free To Read

Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

“Nobody will ever say you don’t go to great lengths to get what you want.”

Dante ignored the grimace over his team member’s face projected onto the screen of his cell phone mounted on his dashboard. “Cole, we’ve been working together for Special Tasks Bureau for how many years?”

“Fifteen.”

“And in those fifteen years have I ever been wrong?”

Dante’s eyes glanced at the GPS’s red button flashing to his location. He let up on the gas to slow down. “Leonardo Marchette is here and I will do anything to get him this time.”

He purposely left out what everything entailed last night. Until he figured out what to do with his hellcat Harley, he’d keep the information to himself.

“I didn’t believe you until the crime scene came over the wire,” said Cole, “same MO, dragged body.” Both men flinched at the same time. “Anyway, see Detective Lundy. I don’t have to remind you what happens if you get caught—”

“I’m not going to get caught,” Dante shook his head.

“You understand the government cannot bail you out. Don’t let your emotions of what the sociopath did to your sister rule your actions,” Cole said.

The government denied all knowledge, or they’d known it better as plausible deniability. Unless an agent was backed by a team like Dante’s, the Undesirables, he was screwed. Dante ground his back molars together to keep the image of his dead, tortured sister out of his mind.

“I sent over the credentials you’ll need to access the area and gather your information,” said Cole. “Much appreciated,” Dante saluted his partner and disconnected the live-feed from his phone. “Your final destination is on your right.”

“Always a pleasure, Nadine,” Dante answered the robotic feminine GPS voice coming from his dashboard of his borrowed black SUV. Up ahead, to his right a large group of people — cops, reporters and on lookers — milled around.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror gave him the go to make a huge u-turn and park on the other side of the street, facing north so he could have a quick get away to his car if necessary. These situations were never smooth for an agent.

Dante reached for his sunglasses from the visor and stepped out of the vehicle. The early Sunday morning sun showed promise of a powerfully hot day. Keeping his glasses on kept others thwarted from the awkwardness of trying to read his eyes. The mirrored shades hung against his ears and slid comfortably against the bridge of his nose. Up ahead the crowd parted.

The scene on the two way street had become a local event. Crowds of people stood on the sidelines as police officers put up yellow tape to block off the scene. A few reporters stood with notepads in hands and several onlookers used their phones as cameras to document everything.

The crime scene came equipped with a tamale stand and a coffee stand. Spiced meats, cooked fruit, and coffee filtered the morning air. A young barista with a low cut shirt and perky breasts smiled sweetly and nodded her head toward her goodies, an array of different coffees.

Coffee sounded good right about now. Last night whipped through him like a hazy blur. The piping hot black liquid would be good to jolt his system.

The barista batted her eyelashes and licked her lips, offering more than just coffee as she handed him a cup and a slip of paper, no doubt her phone number.

Dante purposely reached for it with his left hand and pointed toward the ring with his right. “Sorry, married.” He said with a wink and she smiled, snapping her fingers.

Why in hell was he still wearing the ring?

And why in hell would he use it to ward off women? Dante loved women. Lots of women. So many women, he often needed a vacation from his vacation with women.

Well, with the way the barista backed off when she saw it, it could be worth it to have some peace and quiet while he was in town. Typically he liked his missions like he liked his women, fast and easy. Something in his gut told him he was in a heap of trouble with his latest mission, considering the length he went through to track down Leonardo Marchette.

The bastard slipped through his fingers before and he’d be damned if he’d let it happen again. He’d been chasing him unofficially since he was seventeen when Leonardo murdered his sister. Dante made the sign of the cross as he thought of his beloved Allegra. Every test he took to qualify him for Special Ops, Special Forces, and Black Ops covered his relationship with his family. No one wanted a loose-cannon and for twenty years Dante managed to keep his emotions under control.

But now with him so close to catching Leonardo, Dante tried to contain his vengeful excitement.

Officially, Dante spent his career as an agent trying to locate him. It had been one thing or another and this time he wasn’t going to stop. Leonardo was somewhere in Florida, more importantly he was somewhere in the Tallahassee vicinity. Dante’s skin pricked knowing he was this close.

His eyes focused on the makeshift privacy screen held up by four white sheets.

A man in a white overcoat, plastic-bootie slippers and blue rubber gloves pushed his way through the opening of the curtain. The coroner was here. Now maybe some work could get done since no one was allowed to touch the body until he arrived.

A collective gasp from the crowd reached the clouds at the limited peek of the massacre behind the sheets. Maybe he was too hardened by the lengths criminals went to, to make their name in the world.

Nothing shocked him. The same couldn’t be said for the extras walking by him fighting their gag reflexes. Today’s crime sight would be no surprise to him, except for one thing.

There, in the midst of the uniformed officers, standing behind a wide lens camera stood Harley Tomasello.

His bride.

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