Corrupt by Aubree Valentine
Chapter 2
“All right, here’s what we’ve got,” Captain Ricci hands out folders to the team.
Photos are plastered on boards around the room with seemingly random bits of information written near them. To an outsider, it probably makes no sense, but to us - NYPD’s Elite - it all makes perfect sense.
Months of hard work surrounds us. Compiled on the paperwork in our hands.
The time has come to take down one of the biggest crime families in New York.
“Rumor has it that the Bellini family has some big deliveries coming in over the next few weeks. We’ve got to start closing in. Right. Now. So, you know what that means.” Captain looks right at me. “Jaxon, you’re going in.”
I nod. No surprise there.
“Angelo Bellini is set to take over the family business, so your job is to get as close as possible to him. I don’t care what you have to do. Immerse yourself into his world. Find out whatever you can. In that folder is a list of places that Angelo likes to frequent. The clock is ticking so you’ve got 24 hours to make your first connection.”
“Understood.”
“Great,” he claps his hands together. “Let’s quickly go over everything we’ve got so far and then we’re off.”
The briefing lasts another forty-five minutes and then we’re dismissed.
By the time I finally leave the precinct and give Marco a call, it’s too late for us to reconnect tonight. He’s got other plans and I’m left going back to my empty apartment, alone.
A rain check. What a joke.
I promised Marco that we’d get together again. Sooner rather than later and now, I’ve got no choice but to do something way worse than that. I’ve got to break up with the guy because of work.
There’s no way I would do that kinda shit over the phone either. Marco and I may not be serious but the man deserves the decency of being talked to face to face.
* * *
The next evening, the rain is pouring down as I step out onto the pavement. These fucking storms coming in from the South have been nearly drowning us for the last three days. I should have fucking planned better and hailed a cab or called for a car service. Instead, I’m forced to run the three city blocks to Marco’s brownstone apartment.
Thank fuck he opens the door before I even have a chance to ring the buzzer.
“Ah! Jaxson! About time. Come in. Dinner’s almost done and you can dry off in the bathroom. Throw your clothes in the dryer.”
“Hey, Marco. Maybe we should talk first,” I rub the back of my neck nervously while I drip all over his hardwood floors.
He replies with a hard kiss that would normally get my engine revving, but not tonight. “Talking is overrated my dear friend.”
Giving him a gentle shove, I blow out a breath. “Normally I’d agree with you.”
Marco freezes in place. “Shit. This is bad. It’s bad, isn’t it? Just tell me. Out with it.”
His nervousness has clearly taken over at this point as he continues rattling on.
“Macro. Take a breath.”
“Jaxon Walker…are you breaking up with me?”
And there we go. Took the words right out of my mouth. “Listen. We both knew this wasn’t going to be a long-term thing. Friends, remember?”
“Is it something I did? It was dinner, wasn’t it? That was too much. Dinner and dessert are too much like a relationship. I shouldn’t have made dinner.”
Somewhere there’s a hidden camera and someone is laughing at Marco’s anxiety. Meanwhile I feel like the biggest pile of shit.
“It’s got nothing to do with dinner. It’s a work thing. I need to…uh…travel for a bit and we need to cool things off for a while. It’s nothing you did.”
I really needed to do a better job of listening to my brain when it comes to getting involved with people. Macro was proof that I needed to make better choices even if we were just supposed to be friends. Then Marco surprised me. Understood what I needed and gave it to me. No matter what I needed.
I bared my soul to Marco in the form of sex and kink. And he may have read a little more into it. Kinda like my ex - Raul, who wanted marriage and babies and to move out of the city to a house with a white picket fence.
I sure knew how to pick them.
“Travel. Work. It’s all the same,” Marco’s face flushes with color and I know he’s about to throw an even bigger temper tantrum. Not the first time I’ve seen one of his tantrums but they’re a lot more entertaining when they’re not directed at me. “I spent all afternoon preparing you the perfect meal,” he begins shouting and stomping through his apartment. “All afternoon. I made your favorite pasta…” Crash, clatter, smash.
Plates tumble to the ground and shatter. The pasta he swears he slaved all day over is tossed across the room – headed right for my head. There’s no use trying to settle him down. Instead, I duck, then run for safety. Safety that only exists outside of these four walls.
Marco chases after me, screaming out on the sidewalk as I rush away in the cold rain.
New rule: stay away from crazy Italian men.
With guilt eating away at me for what just happened, I jog back to my place to toss the wet clothes before pulling up my computer and diving head first into tying up the last of the case I’ve been working on so that I can focus fully on what’s next.
It’s late and I’m running on nothing but coffee and leftover pizza by the time I send the last report over to Captain Ricci. Since the caffeine is already running through my veins I don’t bother heading to bed. Instead, I jump right into the next case - reviewing all the files and background data that’s already laid out on the table.
This undercover assignment could be the turning point in my career.
