Page 102 of The Arrangement

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The ear buds from her iPod blocked out all noise. Slow, throaty tones that reminded her of a forties Americana type music hummed from the tiny speakers in her ears. Viviana didn’t notice the time passing by after Ivan had left the room. The emotional, deep blues soaked her right to the core, reminding Viviana what it felt like to be ten-years-old and watching her mother in the mirror as she readied for a party.

Christina Carducci had once had the raspy hum of a smoker when she sang, but she never actually smoked. The low notes crawled from her lungs with the same ease and expertise as the higher ones, but she never took lessons. It was one thing Viviana wished she had taken from her mother … that ability to sing … but she couldn’t carry a note to save her life.

Blues aren’t about the sound of a voice, her mother once explained. They’re about feeling the emotions and the words where it hurts and making it echo from the heart and soul.

So, when Rory had peeked into her room a little while ago with a bag in hand, Viviana had all but clawed through it to see if her iPod was there. Thank God it was. That and comfortable ass pajamas. Hospital gowns were not only indecent, but useless and itchy.

It had sucked for her to see Rory with a gash on his cheek and a large bruise up along his hairline, but he was quick to comfort that he’d fared even better than Anton. For a bit, Viviana felt better … but the sentiment didn’t last long when she realized exactly what he said. No one had mentioned the injuries Anton suffered, and that only sent her worry right back up to spiking levels.

The bull didn’t stay either, not after he handed over the bag and an unopened bottle of her favorite vitamin water, with the promise he’d be waiting to open up the next car Anton brought her home.

Damn, the Bentley was probably dust.

Or … tin scraps.

With the iPod in her ears, she didn’t realize someone was in her room until someone gently touched her blanket-covered ankle. It didn’t matter how lightly they approached, Viviana still shrieked like a banshee, tugging roughly on the IV in her arm as she flinched away from the intruder.

Her lungs ached as she tried to catch her breath and forget the pain.

No, it didn’t work a bit.

Two men stood at the end of her bed. Tall, with faces shadowed by the dim lighting in the room, they almost looked menacing. Well dressed in similar black suits, ties properly tied, and badges on display in opened hands, Viviana swallowed her fear and felt a whole different emotion rise.

“Agents Todd and Danover from—”

Federal agents.

“Yeah, I know who you are. Get out of my room,” she rasped. “I haven’t a thing to say to either of you. I don’t remember what happened, so we have nothing to talk about.”

“Now, now, Viviana.” Agent Todd on the right raised his brow in a chiding manner. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“We’re not here for what happened today,” Danover said quietly. “The police have their own investigation and it isn’t considered our issue, yet. And even if it ever is, it won’t be our team dealing with it.”

“Then what?”

Her shaking fingers reached up to move the strands of tangled hair out of her eyes. Only twice had she been approached by federal agents in the past, and both times she had managed to get out of their vicinity quickly. This was a whole different ballgame, given she was all but forced to stay in bed for the next little while, and her lawyer was nowhere in sight.

Before either man spoke again, Viviana muttered, “Ivan wouldn’t have let you in my room.”

“No, but a badge does wonders for a young nurse,” Todd replied just as quick. “Can’t you speak without Anton’s dogs attached to your ass?”

Ouch. That hurt a little more than he understood.

“Okay, now you can get the fuck out.”

“No, I don’t think we can. June sixth, two thousand and ten. Where were you around ten o’clock that night?”

It could have been so easy for Viviana to just up and say she couldn’t remember the date. That was, after all, three years ago. It would also be the biggest damned lie she ever uttered in her life. It wasn’t like she could ever forget the night before her father’s body had been found in the bay with a bullet hole in the back of his skull.

“You’re just coming around here to ask me this, now?”

Deflection was one tactic to use at least until Ivan returned. That was her piss poor plan, anyway.

“Seems like as good a time as ever,” Danover answered, shrugging. “No uncle keeping you locked away. No crossing country borders for school. You certainly have nothing to hide, right? Just us, a room, and you. So, why not?”

Nothing to hide, sure. They had no idea. Speaking about family business—Cosa Nostra business—was a very bad thing. Especially if it was to federal agents. For Viviana, her silence had nothing to do with honor for her father’s family, but the safety of her own self. Death was the only punishment acceptable when someone started talking to officials.