Page 65 of Vicious Behaviors (The Next Vicious Generation #3)

“No,” he smirks, rubbing at his chin. “I believe the only one who will pay for this is you.” I struggle to break free while his sardonic smile mocks me.

“Did you honestly believe that I would let you get away with tarnishing my name and reputation in the Bureau? That I would just turn a blind eye to what you’ve been up to? ”

“Fuck you, Haynes! This is a gross use of power. You have nothing on Marcello! Nothing!”

“Wrong again, Agent Graham. I have everything. And thanks to you, I have all the proof I need to ensure you’ll never work a day in the force again.”

I spit in his face, to which the fucker charges at me, his hand already primed to wrap around my neck. He only steps back when he realizes the audience around us.

“Get her the fuck out of here,” he orders.

“And don’t even try coming to the field office to help your boyfriend.

I’d be more worried about you than him right now.

You aren’t the only one who can make accusations to Director Roderick, bitch.

Unlike you, I have photographic evidence to back up mine.

Before the day is through, you won’t even be able to fucking work at McDonald’s. ”

I’m pushed back as Haynes and the other agents get in their respective cars and drive off. Only when they leave do I turn around and face Marcello’s family.

“You’re a fucking Fed?” Mina asks in disbelief, while Carmine looks like the world just turned on its head with the revelation. The only one who doesn’t look surprised is Jude.

“She is.” He nods and walks toward me, placing his hands on my forearms to keep me steady since I can’t stop shaking. “And she’s also Marcello’s girlfriend. Right?”

I nod, feeling the sting of hot, angry tears at the corner of my eyes.

“Good. Now that we have that settled, how are we going to get Marcello out of this mess?”

I swallow dryly before staring straight into Jude’s eyes and saying, “I can only think of one thing.”

“Yeah. Me too. We need to talk to my father,” he says, deflated, only to frown when I shake my head.

“We’ll need Vincent, yes, but we need a little divine intervention, too.” Jude’s forehead creases in confusion at my vague remark.

“I’m not sure God can help us in this situation, Izzie.”

“Not God. But someone closer to home just might.”

“Did you really have to hit her that hard?” Annamaria says as I sit on a couch in Vincent’s office, inside the same mansion that welcomed me with open arms less than twenty-four hours ago.

“She’s lucky all I did was punch her.” Stella looks coldly at me, while Frankie offers me an ice pack to place on my jaw.

“Don’t be mad at Izzie, Stella. This isn’t her doing,” her mother interjects in my defense, looking worse for wear.

“Marcello being interrogated by some small-dick jerk with a badge might not be all Izzie’s fault, but lying to us is,” Stella accuses, still obviously angry at me for deceiving her all this time.

“I think she more than made amends for lying to us with the plan she brought forth to save your brother, don’t you?” Vincent counters, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the edge of his desk.

“So you think it might work?” I ask, hopeful.

“It just might,” he says, rubbing at his chin. “That is if you are up for the task,” he adds, but that remark isn’t directed at me, but to the priest sitting at the far side of the couch with Enzo’s arm draped over his shoulders.

Alejandro hasn’t said anything all afternoon, still processing my plan and what it will entail.

“It’s too risky,” Enzo says, not at all pleased with my proposal. “What if we can’t make some sort of deal? Then what? What will happen to Alejandro then?”

“Let’s leave that for the good priest to decide, shall we?” Vincent retorts, his voice empty of all warmth.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. What if Izzie’s boss doesn’t go for it?”

“Leave that to me, son,” Gio chimes in, trying to tranquilize a nervous Enzo, while placing his hand over the phone to prevent being overheard on the other side.

What a mess I’ve made of their lives. Of Marcello’s life.

I bite my swollen lip, the pain making it easier to bear than the one my heart is suffering with.

Enzo’s right to be worried. Since watching Marcello drive off in handcuffs, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Director Roderick on the phone, only for her to reject every call I make.

Whatever proof Haynes gave her was enough to poison the well of trust she had in me.

I’ve been shut out of the case and anything related to Marcello’s investigation.

“No. Alejandro isn’t doing it,” Enzo says, taking a final stand.

“Would you rather see your brother in an orange jumpsuit? Visit a prison just to see him on his birthday, knowing you won’t even be able to wrap your arms around him?

Only seeing him through a glass, talking into some shitty telephone, your time cut short before you can even say what you need to? ” Vincent hurls the accusation at Enzo.

I watch Enzo open his mouth to defy his father, only for Alejandro to place a hand on his thigh to silence him.

“Your father is right. I couldn’t live with the guilt of seeing Marcello behind bars.

He protected us, Enzo. He saved us from what I’m sure would have been our certain deaths.

He deserves someone to save him now. Lord knows your brother has suffered long enough.

He wouldn’t survive whatever place he ends up in if found guilty. ”

Jude, Alejandro, Vincent, and I look at each other in silent conversation.

We all know that prison would be the last place they’d send Marcello if convicted of murder.

One psych evaluation would be enough to condemn him to a place that none of us wants to see him in.

Marcello would not survive in such an environment.

We all know that, even if the rest of his family remains clueless.

“If you do this,” Vincent starts, his attention still on Alejandro, “then you are making a decision you can’t come back from.

Now, I have waited patiently for you to decide between our family and the cloth, considering it is a difficult decision for you to make.

But if we go ahead and proceed with Isobel’s plan, then that decision will be made for you. Are you ready for that?”

Alejandro looks deep into Enzo’s eyes and nods. “Yes. I see my future clearly now. I’m ready to start living it, with your son at my side.”

I feel Annamaria melt beside me, touched by the selfless act.

Selene’s green gaze also softens at the priest’s words.

The only one who looks immune to it all is Stella.

I don’t fault her reaction since I’m the reason she’s acting this way.

Stella is still too angry at me, too blinded by the hate for selfless acts of love and sacrifice, to even make a dent in her fury.

I can only hope she’ll be able to forgive me one day and we can regain what we lost. I might have lied about who I was, but the friendship we built wasn’t a lie to me.

I made a true friend in Stella. One that I’ll do my very best to keep, if she ever gives me a second chance.

However, that could prove difficult if I don’t get Marcello out of this mess.

“Good. I’m pleased to hear it,” Vincent says, pulling my attention back to the matter at hand. He then looks over his shoulder toward Gio, standing in the corner of the room. “Any luck?”

Gio hangs up the phone, looking pissed. “No.” He shakes his head, his chestnut eyes on me. “Your director is a piece of work. She’s not taking my calls either.”

My shoulders slump. “My plan won’t work without her.”

Vincent glances over at me, then to his children, and then over to Selene. She looks ashen and needs Dominic to hold her shoulders so she doesn’t curl into a ball and allow the grief to take her completely.

“Then plan B it is. I say we go in guns blazing and get Marcello out of there,” Lucky chimes in. “Hell, I’ll even talk to Frankie’s asshole uncles, see if they’ll join in and help us.”

“Leave Kirill out of this!” Stella cuts in firmly, rising from her chair.

I notice Selene’s inquisitive eyes shift to her daughter as Stella quickly smooths over her unexpected outburst. “I mean… we don’t need the Bratva.

If push comes to shove, I’ll break Marcello out of there myself.

Alone, Lucky, since everyone knows you hate getting your hands dirty. ”

“I’ll gladly do it for Mar,” Lucky frowns, Frankie threading her fingers through his. “He’s always been there for us. It’s time we be there for him.”

“As much as I’m grateful you feel that way for Marcello, storming the FBI’s Chicago field office guns blazing, as you put it, Lucky, would be considered an act of terrorism. We’re already in hot water as it is.”

“ We? ” Stella snorts. “You think you’re part of our family?”

“Yes, she is,” Selene quickly comes to my defense, though the bitterness of Stella’s words hit their mark.

“Is that right?” Stella cackles. “Am I the only one here who is even thinking clearly? She lied to us. To all of us. If the Outfit finds out that Marcello was dating her, he’s as good as dead.

Not only that, but everyone saw her at Anna’s party.

We’ll be lucky if any of us stay alive when this shit hits the streets.

The omertà is very clear when it comes to associating with the likes of her.

It’s a betrayal to even let her walk through the door.

And in case you all forgot, the punishment for such a betrayal is death. ”

“One problem at a time, Stella,” Vincent says in deep thought. “First, let’s squash this investigation before it takes flight. I want your brother home. With us. With his family. Where he belongs.”

Stella curses under her breath, but then seals her lips shut, knowing nothing she says will change her father’s mind about me. For which I’m grateful, since I wouldn’t put it past Stella to grab me by my arm and put a bullet in my head on their front lawn, execution style.

“That’s all good and well,” Gio says, “but we still have one chess piece missing for this plan to work.”

“Then we just have to be more convincing to get Director Roderick on board,” Vincent says, thinking long and hard before asking Gio to give him his phone. “Grab me my black book from my upper drawer, too.”

After handing him the phone and the book, Gio sits on the arm of the chair next to Selene, grabbing her hands in his lap, while Dom holds her shoulders.

Vincent bows his head as he peruses the pages of his small book. After finding what he is looking for, he presses a few keys, sets the phone, and opens the book on his desk. The ringing tone of an outgoing call is the only sound in the room.

“Hello? Who is this?” a deep voice answers.

“Owen Turner. How fortunate that I’ve caught you, being that you are such a busy man and all.”

“Is this some telemarketer? If it is, I’m not interested.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m no telemarketer,” Vincent smiles menacingly. “And it’s in your best interest to talk to me.”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Vincent Romano,” he says at last. “I believe you knew my uncle, Salvatore.”

The line goes quiet for a few seconds before this Owen—whoever he is—speaks again.

“What do you want, Romano?”

“A favor.”

“Yeah, right. Not happening.”

“Oh, but I believe that it will. Need I remind you that you are in debt with my family?”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Tsk, tsk, Turner. And here I thought you were a reasonable man. The Outfit doesn’t forgive debts. Not even from over thirty years ago. Or do I need to remind you that we were the ones you called on to deal with that pesky problem you had in New York?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m going to hang up now.”

“You and I both know you will do no such thing.” When Owen doesn’t hang up, Vincent continues.

“When you didn’t want your little… shall I call it…

clandestine group to get their hands dirty, you called us to do your dirty work.

Remember? I do. You want to know how I remember your debt so clearly?

Because I was there. I helped your friend deal with the mess he made after killing those fucking rapists who attacked his wife.

And she was what at the time the assault happened? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

The line grows eerily quiet again.

“What was his name again?” Vincent pretends not to remember as he glances at his little black book.

“Richard Price. Yes, it’s all coming back to me now.

For a banker, he sure didn’t balk at cutting those men’s dicks off before slicing their throats.

I was impressed. I heard he’s got quite the lovely little family now.

His daughter-in-law, Scarlett, is in the music business, is she not?

Hmm. Such a risky business to be involved in.

All kinds of things can go wrong on tour.

A light might fall on her on stage, or the sound system could malfunction mid-performance, leading to a nasty little electrocution accident. ”

“Get to the fucking point, Romano,” Owen seethes on the other line. “What do you want?”

“I’m glad we’ve finally come to an understanding. Now, all I need is a little favor from you.”

“And you’ll stay away from Scarlett?” Owen asks, sounding way too concerned for another man’s daughter-in-law.

“I will. I’m a man of my word, as long as you keep yours.”

“What is it then? What do you want?”

“I need you to talk your nephew into doing us a favor.”

Owen goes silent again before asking, “Will this favor put him in harm’s way?”

“Not at all. It’s just some bureaucratic nonsense I need him to clear up, nothing more. No harm will come to him or his family. I promise.”

“Fine. Wait for my call.” And with that, Owen hangs up.

We all stare at Vincent, neither one of us understanding what we just witnessed.

“Who is this guy? And why do we need a favor from his nephew?” Jude asks, looking just as confused as the rest of us.

“Oh, I think there isn’t a person in this room who doesn’t know who Turner’s nephew is.” Gio smiles, looking more relaxed, picking up Selene’s hand and kissing her knuckles.

“Who is he, Father?” Annamaria asks, looking uneasy about the show of force her father just demonstrated.

Vincent gets up from his seat, softly lifts Anna’s chin, and replies, “His name is Lincoln Hamilton, dolce angelo. And as luck would have it, he just so happens to be the President of the United States.”