All Chapters of Hunted Heart:The Mafia's Plaything.: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The FBI field office was different at noon.The morning light had given way to something harsher, the sun cutting through the glass windows, making the lobby feel like a fishbowl. Alex stood by the elevators, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the doors. Vincenzo was beside him, his face calm, his hands steady. They'd been waiting for twenty minutes.Special Agent Pierce appeared from the hallway, his face tired, his tie loosened. "They're ready for you."The conference room was on the seventh floor, a glass box that looked out over the city. Alex had been in rooms like this before, during his time on the force, when the FBI came to town and needed local support. He'd never been on this side of the table.The Director was a woman in her sixties, her hair gray, her face sharp. She was sitting at the head of the table, a file open in front of her, her eyes moving between Alex and Vincenzo as they walked in."Detective Marchetti. Mr. Vincenzo." She didn't stand. "Please. Sit."Alex sa

The holding cell was at the end of the hallway, behind a door that required a keycard and a code. Alex had walked past it a hundred times when he worked here, never thinking he'd be on the other side.Vincenzo was sitting on the bench, his back against the wall, his eyes closed. He looked calm, almost peaceful, like he was waiting for a bus instead of waiting to be charged with murder.Alex stood at the bars. "You have a visitor."Vincenzo opened his eyes. They were dark, tired, but they lit up when he saw Alex."You shouldn't be here."Alex sat on the bench across from him. The cell was cold, the concrete floor hard, the walls closing in. "I'm not going anywhere."Vincenzo leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them. "Cole showed you the photograph."Alex nodded. His throat was tight."It's not me," Vincenzo said. "The man in that photograph. It's not me."Alex's eyes narrowed. "It looks like you.""It's supposed to." Vincenzo's voice was low, controlled.

The warehouse was on the south side, a place Alex had passed a hundred times during his years on the force. It had been a textile factory once, then a distribution center, then nothing. Now it belonged to Enzo.Alex parked down the block, killed the engine, sat in the dark. The photograph of Marco Vitale was on the passenger seat, the name staring up at him. For when we need a ghost.He'd called Enzo an hour ago. The conversation had been short, tense. Alex had told him about the photograph, about the murder, about the man who looked like Vincenzo. Enzo had listened, said nothing, and given him an address.Now Alex sat in his car, the warehouse in front of him, and tried to figure out what he was walking into.His phone buzzed. He looked at it, expecting Cole, expecting Wells, expecting anyone but the name that appeared on the screen.Enzo. Come alone.Alex got out of the car.---The warehouse door was unlocked.Alex pushed it open, stepped inside. The space was vast, dark, the air t

The FBI building looked different in the morning light.Alex had been here before, of course. He'd walked through these doors a dozen times during the investigation, always on the other side of the glass, always the local cop asking for help from the feds. Now he was standing in the lobby with Vincenzo beside him, waiting to be called upstairs.Vincenzo's hand was in his. Their fingers interlaced, a quiet anchor in the chaos."You don't have to do this," Vincenzo said. His voice was low, meant only for Alex. "You can wait outside. You can—""I'm not going anywhere."Vincenzo's grip tightened. His face was calm, but his hands—his hands were shaking.The elevator doors opened. Agent Pierce stepped out, his face tired, his tie loosened. He looked at them, at their joined hands, at the way they stood together."They're ready for you," he said.---The conference room was on the seventh floor, the same room where they'd sat with the Director, where Vincenzo had signed the deal that was sup

Alex was in the study, the photograph of his father on the desk beside him, the letter in his hand. He'd been reading it for hours, trying to understand, trying to forgive, trying to let go of something he'd been carrying for twenty-five years.Vincenzo was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, the smell of garlic and tomatoes drifting through the house. It was almost normal. Almost peaceful.His phone buzzed. Liam.Alex answered. "What's going on?"Liam's voice was tight, controlled. "I need you to come to the field office. There's something you need to see."Alex's heart was pounding. "What is it?"A pause. Then: "It's about Vincenzo. About the deal. There's been a development."---The FBI field office was quiet at night.The lobby was empty, the lights dim, the security guards watching Alex with eyes that had seen too much. Liam was waiting by the elevators, his face pale, his hands in his pockets."What's going on?" Alex asked.Liam didn't answer. He pressed the button, waited for the