Antonio’s coldness turned into something deadly.
“Who’s running the operation?” “Agent Nathan Cross.” Why was he not surprised.
Antonio had expected a retaliation.
He didn’t expect Cross was this foolish to attack one of his clubs.
He took one more slow drag from his cigar, a faint smile touching his mouth.
“Quite a few people testing my patience today.” Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger, shooting the kneeling man.
He didn’t bother to look down at the body as he turned his back and walked away with Alex.
Meanwhile, at the Red Dragon, which was one of Antonio’s most lucrative clubs, was crawling with law enforcement.
”Careful with that,” Nathan Cross warned.
He stood just outside the main entrance, watching as FBI agents and local police officers hauled box after box of ledger files and digital hardware out of the building.
The atmosphere around the club was tense and frantic.
Federal agents swept through the VIP rooms to document evidence, while local uniforms secured the outer gates and led handcuffed suspects toward waiting vans.
His partner, Bertha Wells stepped up beside him, lowering her voice.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Cross glanced at her.
“We aren’t doing anything wrong.” He nodded toward the boxes being carted past them.
“This club is packed with illegal operations.
And, we have a warrant.
We’re simply doing our jobs.” Bertha folded her arms across her chest.
“Don’t give me that crap.
That warrant was signed like three months ago, and it was for financial fraud, not for a full scale raid.” Bertha pointed a sharp finger right at his chest.
“You’re only hitting this place to piss off the Don, because he took your girl.” Cross’s jaw tightened.
“That’s absurd.
First of all, I was following up on an informant’s tip.
Secondly, Livy Reed is not my girl.” “Yeah, right.
“Don’t you think it’s about time we started treating these syndicates like the domestic threats they actually are?” Cross pushed back.
Bertha narrowed her eyes.
“I’m just saying, if this blows back on us and I get caught in the crossfire, I’m blaming you.” Cross gave her a cold, unyielding look.
“If it blows back, I’m taking the blame.” An hour later, the two agents arrived at the FBI field office.
Before Cross could even sit down at his desk, his phone started ringing loudly.
Bertha tossed her badge onto her desk with a heavy sigh.
“I will save you the suspense, Cross.
That is either the deputy director or the U.S.
Attorney’s office, and they are not calling to say thank you.” Cross ignored her, and picked up the receiver, and pressed it to his ear.
“Cross,” he said flatly.
“Get your ass to the conference room right now,” a sharp, angry voice snapped back before hanging up.
Cross slowly set the phone down.
He looked up to find Bertha watching him with a knowing look.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly.
“The legal team found out we raided a syndicate club using an expired warrant?” “Something like that,” Cross muttered, grabbing his jacket again.
Ten minutes later, Cross stood inside the glass-walled conference room.
The Section Chief, paced back and forth behind a table, looking furious.
A federal prosecutor sat nearby, flipping angrily through a thick file.
“Are you out of your mind, Cross?” the Section Chief demanded, slamming his hand on the table.
“You conducted a raid without clearing it with legal first?
D’Angelo’s lawyers are already filing emergency motions to throw out every piece of evidence we took!” “The club is a hub for illegal operations,” Cross said, keeping his voice steady.
“We found ledgers and cash.” “Which will go straight into the trash the second a judge sees that old warrant!” the prosecutor said, throwing her pen down.
“You handed D’Angelo an easy win.
The whole search was illegal!” “Maybe,” Cross replied.
“But we rattled them.
We hit his money, and we sent a message.” The Section Chief stopped pacing.
He pointed a finger straight at Cross’s chest.
“This wasn’t about the case, was it?
This was about Livy Reed.
You used your badge to settle a personal score, just because the Don took your witness.” Cross said nothing.
There was no use denying the obvious.
“You just compromised our entire operation,” the Section Chief hissed.
“And where the hell is Wells.
You two are on desk duty starting right now.
And if D’Angelo retaliates for your stunt, you are on your own.” “Wells knew nothing about this operation.
I take full responsibility.” The Section Chief stopped pacing and glared at him ”Oh, you’ll take responsibility, all right,” the Section Chief snapped.
“Hand over your badge and your firearm.
You are on immediate desk duty, and internal affairs will be reviewing every single file you’ve touched this year.” Cross unclipped his shield and laid it on the table, followed by his service weapon.
He didn’t argue or try to defend himself.
”Get out of my sight,” the Section Chief said, turning his back.
Cross turned and walked out of the conference room.
He was pleased with himself and didn’t regret anything.
When he stepped back into his office, Bertha was waiting by his desk.