But he was no different.
Alex had followed in Luca Passarelli’s footsteps, just like Luca had assured her he would, all while he’d had his hands wrapped around her neck.
At the memory of her confrontation with the powerful mafia commander, she snapped open her eyes.
She’d only ever told a single soul what had sent her fleeing from Chicago and why she’d been so hasty to dive headfirst into the military life. Keisha Turner—Amelia’s best friend throughout high school and the friend who’d stepped through the doors of the recruiter’s office at her side—was the only person who knew about how Luca Passarelli had come within an inch of killing her.
She’d been safer in a combat zone than she’d have been if she’d defied Luca’s command to leave the city and never come back.
Fighting against the memories, she clenched and unclenched one hand. If he tried to threaten her or chase her away now, she’d hang him from the highest rafter she could find.
And if Alex thought he could use her like he’d used her brother, then she would return the favor.
With a deep breath, she smoothed out the front of her shirt.
As she emerged from the stall, a pronounced buzz emitted from the pocket of her cardigan. Though she wanted to wash her hands first, she pulled out the phone to check the screen.
When her gaze fell on the line of the caller ID that read “Metropolitan Corrections Center,” her breath caught in her throat. Swiping the screen, she raised the device to her ear, holding it there with her shoulder while she pumped a glob of soap into her hands.
“This is Agent Storm.”
“Agent.” The tension in Donovan Gillem’s voice was palpable. “I’ve…I’ve got some bad news for you.”
Dread rushed through Amelia’s veins, but she gritted her teeth to keep her tone even as she rinsed her hands. “Let’s hear it.”
“Your witness, Carlo Enrico, was stabbed repeatedly. He was just admitted to the ICU a few minutes ago, but well…” the man paused, and she could almost see him shake his head, “he lost a great deal of blood, and the prognosis isn’t good. They’ll do all they can, but it’s in the surgeon’s hands now.”
“Shit.” She spat the word before she could stop herself and reached for a wad of paper towels. “Are there any suspects? An idea who might’ve done it?”
“None yet.” The warden’s answer sounded mechanical. “We’re reviewing the security footage. Should have something by the time you get here.”
“Dammit, okay. Send me the details about where he’s being treated, and please make sure the area where he was attacked is sealed off.”
“Already done. We’re on lockdown, and all the inmates are confined to their cells until further notice.”
Amelia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Okay. That’s all I can ask. I’ll be there within an hour, two at the most.”
“All right. See you then.”
Once she’d replaced the phone in her pocket, Amelia let out an explosive breath. “Dammit, Carlo. All we wanted you to do was stay alive, and you couldn’t even do that.”
Sure, Enrico was alive at the moment, but Amelia knew all about hypovolemic shock. When a person’s body lost too much blood, the heart tried to compensate by beating faster, even as blood pressure dropped. Cardiac arrest usually came next, followed by the shutdown of various organ systems.
If Carlo had gone into hypovolemic shock, chances were good he wouldn’t return.
Though she was driven mostly by habit, Amelia dried her hands completely before letting herself back into the hall. She sprinted back to the conference room.
Without stopping to parse through the news she’d just been given, Amelia pushed open the door. “Carlo Enrico was just stabbed.” The words felt like a system purge. “Repeatedly. I think he went into hypovolemic shock, and he’s probably not going to make it.”
“Shit.” Zane rubbed his temples. “They don’t have any idea who did it, do they?”
As Amelia met his gaze, she shook her head. “None.”
SAC Keaton drummed her fingers against the conference table as the room lapsed into silence. “Okay.” She turned to the Assistant U.S. Attorney. “Counselor, you can go. Keep that paperwork handy, and we’ll be in touch if anything changes.”
Cassandra let out a breath as she packed up the papers in front of her and stood. “Just let me or Ms. Julliard know if there’s anything else you need from our office.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you,” SAC Keaton responded curtly, though her expression remained pleasant as ever.
After Cassandra offered a quick goodbye to Amelia and Zane, she shouldered her messenger bag and left.
Amelia turned to Zane the moment the door latched shut. “We should probably head out soon. I told the warden we’d be there in about an hour.”
SAC Keaton held up a hand to stop them. “No. This is a huge hurdle, and I can’t afford to put both of you on it when there’s so much more we need to follow up on.”
“This is something we’ll want to add to the RICO case, though,” Zane argued. “Enrico was stabbed right before we could put him in protective custody. There’s no way that wasn’t the Leónes.”
“That’s true.” Jasmine’s gaze shifted between Zane and Amelia. “But I still can’t afford to put you both on it. One of you needs to follow up on what Storey brought us. Storm, since the warden called you, MCC is yours. Go!”
Amelia was about to voice her agreement, but Jasmine’s next words stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Take Agent Larson. He just got back from a few days of vacation, and he’s already familiar with the Leóne family.”
Son of a bitch.
Her last encounter with Joseph Larson had been amicable enough, but she couldn’t help but think the man’s friendly demeanor had been a façade. There was a knowing glimmer in his pale blue eyes that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
Rather than protest, she swallowed to return the moisture to her mouth. “Okay.”
SAC Keaton gestured to Zane. “Agent Palmer, you’ll