Chapter 22

The weekend had been amazing. Caleb had spent most of it with Roman and a good portion of it in Roman’s bedroom. He hadn’t even unpacked his duffel in his room because why would he when he had no intention of being there?

They’d talked too. A lot. More than Caleb had expected, and even more surprising was how much he’d loved it. The getting-to-know-you stage of a relationship had always been somewhat tedious, but with Roman, it all felt so natural. They’d shared stories about their families, their upbringing, how they’d gotten into their line of work, and the weird experiences they’d been through over the years. Favorite foods, colors, movies, everything.

Hell, if Caleb had to fill out a questionnaire about Roman, he’d come a long way in knowing all the answers. Yet he wanted to know so much more, had so many more questions to ask.

Driving back to Boston on Sunday evening had hurt. Not in the sense of it being hard, but it had physically hurt to drive away and see Roman grow smaller in his rearview mirror. The only consolation was that it would only be for five days, and then he’d be back. Still, despite his emotional turmoil, he’d focused on possible tails and hadn’t noticed any.

Monday morning, he pushed through the doors of the office building that housed Coldrick Law, among others, just as the city was waking up, its streets buzzing with the early rush of caffeine-driven ambition. The by-now-familiar clack of his dress shoes on polished concrete echoed in the empty lobby. He was early, deliberately. He swiped his ID and headed straight for his tiny office, still grateful he didn’t have to share it.

Would today be the day he finally found a link between Coldrick and Whitman’s illegal dealings? The investigation was stuck, and Caleb hated it like he despised having to tap out in a grappling match. He always went for the win. Always. And this was no different. All he could do was dig…and keep his eyes and ears open.

Settling into his chair, he cracked his knuckles and dove into the digital trenches. Fingers flew over the keyboard, eyes scanned line after line of file names, financial transactions, and emails. It was grunt work, but it mattered. Each breadcrumb could lead to Whitman’s unraveling.

He leaned back, scrubbed a hand over his smooth-shaven chin he still wasn’t used to, and let out a slow breath, a silent plea to the universe for something, anything, to break their way. But alas, the universe wasn’t inclined to grant his wish because a few days passed with nothing to show for it.

When he reported for work early Thursday morning, he considered not coming back the next Monday. What was the point if he wasn’t making progress? He missed Roman, and he wanted to go home. Should he suggest to Wander that he walk away? Isabella might suspect something was up, though, and that would endanger the investigation. Crap.

Isabella’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and sudden. She stood in the hallway, right outside his office, making a call. “I’m tired of your excuses,” she snapped. “I need to see results.”

Her tone carried an edge, an unusual level of frustration. He tilted his head, straining to catch the conversation.

She spoke softer now, kinder. “I know. You’ve never let me down before. But this is… The stakes are high. Higher than ever before. I need this handled.”

A long silence.

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

She walked away.

Caleb chewed on his bottom lip, mind churning. Handle what? And who had been on the other end of that line? She hadn’t mentioned Whitman’s name, but then again, she was too smart for amateur mistakes like that. Caleb needed to know who she’d called. He needed access to her phone. But how? Isabella always had her phone with her.

Wait.

The phone was the key. It was about time he got serious about gaining access. So far, he’d let it go as it seemed too risky, but her phone was her life. Anything incriminating would be on there, not on her computer or the office network where anyone could see it. No, she’d have it somewhere on her phone. He needed access to the contents.

She had an iPhone, so most likely, she had an iCloud account. He knew her email address, so all he needed was her password. The only way to get that was to watch her type it in…or install a keystroke logger. She was too smart to click on obvious spam links, but maybe he could think of something better?

Caleb’s fingers danced over the keyboard with a ferocity that belied his calm exterior. He was in his element, the thrill of the chase surging through him like adrenaline. This was his chance at a breakthrough…and she’d never see it coming.

An hour later, he’d created a survey about Isabella’s recent experiences at the spa she’d gone to with her sisters, all nicely branded in the same style as the spa. He’d even registered a similar domain name and email address, so it wouldn’t stand out in any way. Now, all he had to do was text it to her, offer a gift card, and see if she would take the bait.

She did. It only took half an hour, and then she clicked on the link and filled out the survey. Caleb had even bought an actual gift certificate from the spa, so later, she wouldn’t know how someone had gotten access to her phone, and he sent it to her within a minute of her completing the survey. Wasn’t it interesting how even people who made as much money as Isabella did were still swayed by a fifty-dollar gift card?

Time to get to work. By clicking the link, Isabella had given him the tools to access her phone, including her iCloud.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in concentration. A final keystroke, a held breath, and then, triumph. Access granted. He was in.

Caleb exhaled slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. It had been almost too easy to infiltrate her defenses. He riffled through the call logs with precision, searching for the number that had sparked this whole endeavor. And there it was, stark against the screen—Joey DiMartino. The name didn’t ring a bell, but it might to Roman or Ryan and Alex. Still, Caleb would do his research.

Joey DiMartino wasn’t someone who liked leaving digital trails. That much was clear after a two-hour online search, but he’d still dropped crumbs here and there. He’d joined a Facebook group for alumni of his high school, right here in Boston, and that led to Caleb discovering more of his background. He was local. Had grown up on the infamous South Side. Wasn’t Connor, Wander’s friend, from the same area? Maybe he knew Joey.

Caleb found family members and did a cross-search for them, stilling when he hit the motherload on Joey’s father.

Oh. My. God.

Joey was part of the Italian mob, just like his dad and uncles. Caleb’s instincts screamed danger. Joey wasn’t some small-time crook. He was connected as well and as deeply as anyone could be. A shiver trickled down Caleb’s spine. They were messing with the mob now? Holy shit, this went so much deeper than he’d expected. Caleb was no stranger to risk. It was part of the job. But this? This was playing with fire on a whole new level.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, tension coiling tight in his gut. He needed to get this information to Wander as soon as possible, but he didn’t dare make a call from Isabella’s office, and sending a text or email was out of the question. It would have to wait until his lunch break when he would hopefully be able to sneak away and make the call.

In the meantime, he dug into Isabella’s iCloud. She wasn’t stupid enough to have everything spelled out there, and most of the files had an extra layer of encryption. Why would someone do that unless they had something to hide? The average person didn’t have that kind of security, so she was definitely hiding something. Not that it would keep him out, but he’d need more time to gain access to those files. However, he did find incriminating invoices and reports.

He ran a copy of her entire cloud and created a mirror account of it so he’d keep access. Unfortunately, he had actual work to do, the kind Isabella was paying him for, and if he didn’t want to arouse suspicion, he’d better get on with it.

When lunchtime came, Isabella needed him to do an urgent background check for a client and another one, and before Caleb knew it, it was time to go home, and he still hadn’t reported back. He sat uneasily on the T, constantly looking over his shoulder. Now that he knew who they were dealing with, everything had changed.

“Hey, Caleb, would you like?—”

“Can’t. I have an urgent call to make.” Caleb stormed into the house. “Sorry.”

Miguel waved him away. “Go. Do what you have to do. I’ll put your food on a plate in the fridge.”

Caleb’s thumb was already on the Call button.

“Hey, kid,” Wander said, voices murmuring in the background. “Everything okay?”

“I’ve found a lead,” Caleb said. He wasn’t sure what Wander had done, but the conversations ceased.

“I’m putting you on speakerphone. Everyone is here. Talk to me.”

“Isabella made a call at nine-oh-six this morning that I partially overheard. I accessed her phone and traced it. She called Joey DiMartino. Does that name ring a bell?”

“DiMartino? Fuck, is he connected to the DiMartino family?” Roman asked. “They’re Italian mob and have their fingers in a lot of pies.”

“That’s his father,” Caleb said. “Sorry.”

“Fuck,” Roman said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t… We shouldn’t be… You need to come home, baby. I don’t want you messing around with the mob.”

A flash of heat went through Caleb at that term of endearment, but before he could say anything, Wander’s voice came through the line. “One thing at a time, Ro. Let him finish his report first.”

“I don’t know what Joey does for Isabella, but she calls him on average three times a week, sometimes more, so there’s a strong connection.”

“I’ll say. What else?”

“I copied her iCloud. She has a lot of encrypted files on there. I’ll need some time to get access to those, but my gut tells me that once I do, we’ll have our smoking gun.”

“Good work, kid.” Pride rang in Wander’s voice, and Caleb’s cheeks heated at the praise.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Anything else?”

“Not right now. She kept me busy today, but I’ll do some more digging once I’ve had some dinner.”

“All right. Keep us posted.”

“Wander, I think Alex and I should head to Boston,” Ryan said. “See what we can find out about this Joey DiMartino. If he’s mob, he won’t be hard to find.”

“He’ll also be dangerous,” Roman said sharply. “You don’t wanna fuck around with the Italians and get found out.”

“Then we better make sure we fly under the radar,” Ryan answered. “We knew going in that this wouldn’t be a walk in the park. This connection doesn’t change anything.”

Roman groaned. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Caleb swallowed. Roman wasn’t the type to say things like that lightly.

“What kind of bad feeling?” Wander apparently had come to the same conclusion.

“I don’t know. The idea of you going up against the mob is… It’s terrifying. You know how many cops have tried that and failed? How many federal agents we’ve lost over the years because they attempted to infiltrate organized crime?”

“We’ll keep our distance,” Ryan said. “I promise we’ll tread carefully. I know what I’m doing.”

“With all due respect, but I’m not sure about that,” Roman said. “I know you’re a former detective, but solving murders and dealing with killers isn’t the same as going after the Italians.”

A heavy silence fell. What should they do? Caleb wasn’t blind to the dangers, but what was the alternative? They couldn’t back off now, not when they were so close to bringing Whitman down. “Can we maybe ask Connor if he’s heard of Joey DiMartino? And see what he thinks?”

“That’s a great idea,” Wander said. “Connor’s family was in organized crime as well, so he’ll have a unique perspective. I’ll reach out to him and get his thoughts. For now, keep digging, kid. But, Caleb…”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Keep your eyes wide open.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

Home.

He couldn’t wait.