A Mafia Romance

Prologue

PROLOGUE

CAROLYN

Date: December 29, 2018

Location: Lloyd, New York, 1.5 hours outside of New York City

Subject: Alan Chase

Criminal Record: Sealed Juvenile Record. No adult record. Suspected in 34 separate grand theft auto cases in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Routinely dismissed due to lack of evidence. Subject has never been successfully detained or incarcerated.

I sit back from my laptop screen and stretch, my back popping. I’m stiff from driving and sick of bad weather. It’s only an hour and a half from the New York field office on a good day, but I just spent three hours bumper to bumper on 9W in the pouring rain.

I’m here because my boss hates me—the talented and ambitious new transfer—enough to send me on a wild goose chase after criminals so good they’ve never left behind enough evidence or witnesses to implicate them. All five are behind a laundry list of crimes, but we’ve never been able to make any charges stick. I have a ‘hit list’ of five subjects countrywide, and Alan Chase is first on it.

At least he’s only a thief. Never violent—just skilled, sneaky. There are men that are guilty of far worse than car theft—especially number five.

But I don’t want to think about him. Focus on our Road Runner here.

Alan Chase is an impeccable thief. Not to mention a world-class driver. He could give NASCAR racers a run for their money, according to the one Long Island cop who tried to chase him on the interstate.

“…I never even got close to his bumper. The guy swam through the traffic and the wind and the rain like a damn fish up a stream. He just knew where the holes in the flow of traffic would open up.”

“…He didn’t endanger anyone, either. Caused a few fender-benders by startling people, but he never knocked into anyone to block my way, didn’t drive wrong-way through any areas, never touched the shoulder.”

“…He was just gone. I wasn’t even able to follow enough to catch it all on dash cam, let alone get a look at his face.”

I get up to do a few floor poses for my back and mix up a batch of instant coffee. The old brick hotel has radiators that clank and tick constantly and an elevator that rattles; it sounded like it was going to expire when I brought up my baggage. But it’s a lot cozier than the drafty apartment I share with two roommates in Brooklyn.

Guess I’m spending my New Year’s working again. But that’s all right. No family to go home to anyway.

Alan Chase has been living in Lloyd for three months according to his latest landlord. He likely is involved in the uptick in auto thefts. So I’m stuck here spying on him until we catch him at something or he moves on.

I bring up Chase’s photo gallery and frown at his smiling face on my screen. Cute.

Roguish grin, kind of scruffy. Dark auburn hair, dark brows, light brown eyes with a touch of red to them—like sunlight through glasses of sherry. Lean-jawed, athletic, but raw-looking. The kind of guy that lives in jeans.

Hot, but not my type. One of the five I’m chasing is, but I’m trying not to think about him.

If I’m vigilant, smart, and lucky, I’ll catch my Road Runner in Lloyd. Otherwise, he’ll duck back over the Canadian border to hide, and my boss Daniels will shuffle me off after the next guy after a round of demeaning lectures.

Derek Daniels is a bullying prick with no use for women who won’t sleep with him. He sent me out here to confirm that I don’t have what it takes to be in the FBI. I’ve come here to show he is wrong.

I’m in place. I have contacts, cash for bribes, leads, and a profile. Now, I just have to wait for Chase to make a mistake. Preferably a big one.