Page 6

5

JOANNA

My phone rang as I was going through interview notes related to the Sasha Sloane case the following afternoon. I checked the caller ID, saw that it was Zeke, and excused myself to a private room, eager to learn what he’d discovered. I closed the door and shut myself inside the depressing space with its yellowing walls and gray carpet.

“Detective Lee,” I said briskly.

“Hey, Jo.” Zeke’s tone had an excitable quality that led me to think he’d discovered something interesting.

“What did you find?” I asked.

He huffed. “Seriously? No ‘how’s it going, old friend?’ What about ‘you’re a ray of sunshine in a drab world?’”

I didn’t respond, knowing that he’d get to the point more quickly if I refused to play along.

“Right.” He dropped the act. “There’s something about your husband that you should know.”

My stomach lurched. “What?”

“Are you sitting down?”

I sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I am now.”

But being seated didn’t stop the nausea rolling through me. Zeke wasn’t one to pull punches. If he’d told me to sit, then whatever information he’d come upon must be bad.

“Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll cut to the chase. Until six months ago, Westley Gallo didn’t exist.”

My mind stuttered. “What?”

I’d expected him to tell me about a girlfriend he was seeing on the side, or perhaps a gambling debt or sex addiction. Not… this.

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

Zeke waited so long to speak again that I checked to make sure the call was still connected.

“I’m sorry, Jo, but Westley Gallo is an alias.”

I shook my head. “Why? What could someone gain by pretending to be a bartender?”

“Your trust,” Zeke shot back, having clearly already thought this through.

“How do you know it’s an alias? Are you sure?” I closed my eyes and imagined West’s bright smile that lit him up from the inside, and those adorable dimples that appeared in his cheeks when he was about to laugh. How could that man—the man I loved—be a pretender?

“I’m certain.” Zeke’s tone was firm. “Whoever created the alias did a decent job, but not good enough to fool my team. Westley Gallo has a birth certificate, schooling records, and even an employment history, but if you dig beneath the surface, it all begins to crumble. If there’s one thing I can tell you for certain, it’s that the man you married is not Westley Gallo.”

My heart started to race. If I hadn’t married Westley Gallo, the charming bartender from Chicago, then who the hell had I married?

“Do you think this is some kind of long con?” I asked, although I couldn’t imagine why a con man would target me. I wasn’t rich. I didn’t have family money. I was comfortable, but I still needed regular paychecks to get by.

What kind of imposter had I invited into my life—into my bed?

“I don’t believe so.” Zeke sounded sympathetic. “I know you’re probably doing some mental gymnastics right now, but bear with me.”

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Go on.”

“Westley Gallo may not have existed six months ago, but Weston Conti did. Then, six months ago, he left his apartment and never returned.”

“But what—” I cut myself off. Zeke would get to the point if I gave him the chance.

“Weston Conti is a federal agent who specializes in undercover operations.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re saying this man Conti is an undercover agent, and… what? You think he’s my husband?”

My phone vibrated against my cheek.

“I just sent you Agent Conti’s headshot,” Zeke explained. “Look familiar?”

With shaking hands, I switched the phone to speaker and opened the photograph. Staring back at me was a pair of familiar green eyes set in a handsome, square-jawed face.

“Holy shit.”

“I’ve only met West a couple of times, but that’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off the image.

The stranger who wasn’t a stranger. A man I thought I’d known until two days ago.

I’d realized he might be keeping secrets, but I had no idea it would be something as monumental as his entire identity. Even his name was a fabrication.

Hell, I’d been calling myself Joanna Gallo outside of work for weeks now. I’d kept my maiden name professionally because it was easier. But West had stood by and let me call myself by a false name.

I’d been a fool. An utter fool.

“Why would he go undercover to marry me?” My voice shook and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer. “I’m not involved in anything illegal. The worst thing I’ve ever done was park a police car in a no parking zone with the lights on when I was running late.”

Zeke made a sound of amusement. “I forget how straitlaced you are sometimes.”

“I’m a cop. It’s literally my job to abide by the law and to enforce it when others don’t.”

“Apparently, it’s your husband’s job too.”

I shuddered. “Can we not call him that?”

“What? Your husband?” He tutted. “You did marry the man, Jo. And you didn’t even run a background check on him.”

“I didn’t think there was any reason to,” I gritted out.

Of course, Zeke would think I ought to have been more suspicious of him. Zeke verged on paranoid. It was a miracle he hadn’t driven his girlfriend, Fiona, crazy.

“You can’t think the best of everyone.” He cleared his throat, as if sensing I was about to lose my cool. “Getting back to the point, Agent Conti is currently involved in a classified investigation. I did a little snooping and I think I know why he pursued you.”

“Was this snooping legal?”

He ignored the question. “His team is investigating a ring of dirty cops who are on the payroll of Carlos Ortez.”

My breath hitched. “Of the Ortez organized crime syndicate?”

“Bingo. The feds suspect the reason he’s been so slippery is because he’s paying off a bunch of local police officers. We’re talking double digits here, not just one or two bad seeds.”

“What the hell?” How could my fellow officers stomach taking payoffs from a worm like him? Ortez was a blight on the city, spreading pain and misery everywhere he went.

“I know. It’s bad,” Zeke agreed. “I need you to think. Has West ever mentioned him?”

I wracked my mind, trying to recall whether we’d ever discussed the Ortez family, or anything to do with organized crime, but I came up blank. “I can’t remember. You think he believes I’m involved? Is that what this is about?”

“My guess would be the opposite,” Zeke replied.

I tapped my foot impatiently. “Explain.”

“As you’ve said, you have an impeccable record. You’re one of the few detectives who would be above suspicion. My guess is that they knew other cops might have reason to be wary of someone new in their life, but you didn’t, so you’d be more open to manipulation.”

“Great.”

“Not to mention that being with you would give Conti a level of access to your colleagues that goes beyond what a usual bartender would have,” he continued, ignoring my exclamation. “Even one at a cop bar.”

I slumped against the back of the chair and pushed a loose strand of hair off my face. “So, you’re saying that West dated me in order to get close to my colleagues because I was the easiest way in?”

How insulting was that?

He’d targeted me because I was a good cop, single, and had no other romantic prospects. I wondered whether he and his team had discussed the female detectives in the department before selecting me and had ultimately decided I’d be desperate enough for love to overlook any red flags.

Zeke sighed. “Yes, I’d say it’s likely that you were chosen because you’re a single female detective with a reputation for being by-the-book.”

I felt sick as I considered the ramifications. Not only had I been manipulated, but I’d been taken advantage of by someone who’d vowed to love me. I’d fallen for his act completely.

No wonder West was an undercover specialist. He’d convinced me that he was my happily-ever-after.

I’d never had a shred of doubt.

“Do you think our entire relationship is just an angle he was working?” I asked, hating that I could cling to hope even in the face of this evidence. “Is anything about our marriage real?”

Did he feel anything for me at all?

“Technically, you aren’t married.” Zeke’s tone was achingly gentle. “I’ve checked the paperwork. He filed it using his alias, which isn’t who he legally is. Ergo, you aren’t legally married.”

My hand flew to my mouth, and I forgot how to breathe. Somehow, it was this fact that brought home the magnitude of West’s deception. I’d willingly tied myself to a man who didn’t exist. I’d eloped at West’s suggestion, thinking it so romantic that he didn’t want to wait when, in reality, our farce of a marriage was just a necessary step in his charade.

At least I hadn’t dropped a lot of money on a fancy reception or a honeymoon. The only thing I’d splurged on was my dress. We’d agreed to honeymoon for our one-year anniversary instead of immediately after the wedding since everything had happened so quickly.

Exactly the way he’d intended it to.

My chest constricted, and I struggled to draw in a breath.

“Are you okay?” Zeke asked.

“I can’t… I c-can’t… ”

I couldn’t even string two words together, let alone enough to explain the complicated tangle of emotion and panic winding tighter in my chest.

“Joanna,” he said sharply. “Close your eyes. Now breathe with me. In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four. In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four.”

My lungs screamed as I did my best to follow his instructions. After a minute or so, some of the pressure eased.

“Thank you,” I murmured, embarrassed by how overwrought I’d become.

“Do you need me to call someone to be with you?” he asked.

“No.” The last thing I wanted was for anyone to see me like this.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, but then said, “Okay. There’s something else. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes.” I’d always been a person to tear off a Band-Aid quickly.

“You never won that trip to Canada. It was a setup from the beginning. Conti’s boss bought two tickets and arranged for you to be declared the winner of a false contest that never existed.”

A bitter sob escaped me. “He staged our meet cute.”

Of course. Because not even that could be legitimate.

“At least you got a free trip out of it,” Zeke offered, but I wasn’t in the mood to look on the bright side.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“For now.” He hesitated. “Are you sure there’s no one I can get to sit with you?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

He snorted. “All I’ve done is—”

I ended the call. I couldn’t maintain a conversation with him right now. He’d understand.

I stood up, walked to the corner and lowered myself to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest. I buried my face and struggled to draw in long, even breaths.

I wanted to cry.

But I was at work. Surrounded by detectives who’d notice my red-rimmed eyes immediately. I couldn’t risk it.

I allowed myself a few minutes to silently fall apart, and then I scrambled to my feet, straightened my clothes, and headed to Captain Thackery’s office. I knocked and waited for him to invite me in before opening the door.

“Captain, I’m not feeling well. I’m going home early.”

His eyes widened. “What about the Sloane case?”

“Hanson has it under control.”

“But—”

“Sir, I will be of absolutely no use to you if I stay here.” I rubbed my temples, which were already throbbing.

“Fine.” He obviously didn’t like it, but I rarely took time off, so he had no legitimate reason to argue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

I left his office before he could change his mind. I stopped at my desk to let Hanson know I was leaving and then packed my bag and drove home.

When I arrived, I half-expected to find the blond woman on the sofa, but the living room was empty. I frowned. With everything Zeke had told me, the blonde had slipped my mind earlier. Now, I wondered whether she was a colleague of West’s, meeting under the guise of a date, or perhaps his real girlfriend.

Did he have one of those? I should have asked Zeke. I hated to imagine it, but it was possible there was a wife or girlfriend waiting for him.

I dropped my bag on the living room floor and went to the spare bedroom, where we kept our home gym equipment. West was running on the treadmill, his feet hitting the machine in a rapid rhythm. He was facing away from me, so I took a moment to appreciate his muscular back.

My fake husband was fit as hell.

Of course he is. He’s a goddamn undercover agent.

Yeah, that would take some getting used to.

I must have made a sound because he glanced over his shoulder at me, then paused the treadmill. He jumped off and grinned as he came in for a cheek kiss. I dodged him and crossed my arms defensively.

“Hi, Westley.” I raised my chin. “Or should I say, it’s nice to meet you, Weston Conti?”

His face fell and he backed up a step. “How did you find out?”

My heart cracked. He wasn’t even going to deny it. Not that I wanted him to lie to me any more than he already had, but for some reason, it would have soothed me.

“You admit you lied?” I wasn’t about to tell him where my information had come from. He’d probably figure it out soon enough.

His jaw firmed. He moved forward again, reaching for me. I darted away. I couldn’t stand to have him touch me.

His hand fell to his side. “I did. I’m sorry.”

I huffed in disbelief. “You think saying sorry is enough to fix this?”

“No.” His hand twitched, as if he might reach for me again, but he curled it into a fist at his side instead. “I never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart. It kills me that you had to be part of this.”

“I didn’t have to be part of this.” My nostrils flared as my temper rose, and I did my best to squelch it, so he wouldn’t see just how upset I was. “You chose to involve me.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. We did. But I didn’t know at the time that I’d fall in love with you.”

I scoffed. “As if I believe that.”

“It’s true.” He stalked toward me, and I backed up until I was pressed against the wall. “You were supposed to be a job. And yeah, perhaps it’s crappy to use someone that way, but it’s literally what I was trained to do. From the instant I met you, I knew you’d be different.”

“I’m no one’s exception.” I whispered the words, scarcely daring to breathe in case my chest brushed against his.

His nostrils flared. “You’re mine. I love you, Joanna. Whether my name is Westley Gallo or Weston Conti—I love you.”

I ached to believe him. I wanted to so badly. But I’d already been fooled once. I couldn’t allow it to happen again. He didn’t love me, he just didn’t want me to mess with his assignment. Perhaps he thought that if he seduced me, I’d go along with him.

I ducked around him and backed into the hall. “I don’t believe you. I want you to pack your bags and leave my apartment.”

I needed him gone, for my own peace of mind. Presumably, Weston Conti had his own home somewhere. He didn’t have to share mine. In fact, the sooner he got the hell out of here, the better.

Jo,” he growled, a warning in his voice. “If you force me to leave, you’ll be jeopardizing a long-term investigation into one of the worst crime families in Chicago. Do you really want to do that?”