Pearce Hudson: #1 My Italian Devil

5. Holding on

"What do you mean undercover?" I crossed my arms over my chest 

"You'll go back to Boston," Osbourne said. "Clearly he's back for you. He bought the house you guys lived in."

"I'm not getting it. What?"

"You'll go back to Boston. He will find you for sure. You get close enough for evidence then we can nail his ass," Crawford smirked.

"How close do you want me to get to him?" 

"As close as you need to get the Intel or information," Osbourne explained.

"No!" Jones and I shouted. 

"I've spent five years getting him out of my mind. I'm not opening that door. I want to catch more than anyone. He kidnapped my niece...I want lock him up. But I'm not getting anywhere near him," I shook my head.

"We have no idea how Capaldi would react to Pearce," Jones added.

"Well he certainly won't kill her," Crawford said. 

"We don't know that," Ross interjected. 

"It's been five years maybe he moved on," I reasoned. "Send another female agent."

"Right all we need is...how tall are you?" Jessica looked up and down my body.

"5"11."

"All we need is a 5"11, brunette, blue eyed Pearce Hudson. Oh right we have you!"

"Look just give some time to think about it," I bit my lip. 

"You have a few hours," Jackson said looking at her watch.

"Fine."

I sat in my cubicle looking at Gibson's office, Osbourne, Crawford, Jackson and Gibson were still in a heated debate. I stacked up feet up on the desk.

"Don't do it Pearce," Jones hovered behind me.

"I don't want to."

"Well then don't. I was there when you walked through those door after you found about Dante was a criminal. I was the agent you told. I stayed and comforted you after Dante fled. Even after you joined the academy. I don't want to see you go through that again."

"I hate it when you're right."

I put five dollars into the money of the vending machine and pressed the letters and numbers for a Gatorade bottle. The bottle moved forward and stopped. I hit the side of the vending machine, but nothing happened. I kicked it and still nothing happened.

"Violence isn't the answer to anything," Jake's voice spoke up behind me. He stepped beside me and punched in a series of numbers and letters. A blue Gatorade bottle flew into the little space under.

"Thanks," I smiled at him.

"I'm guessing you aren't going undercover."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to see Dante."

"You don't want to see him because he left you or because you're afraid you still have feelings him?"

"A little of both."

"Why don't you test the theory?"

"I escaped from that life I don't want to go back to it."

"But you're holding onto it aren't you? You're niece, Alessandra are you giving up on her?

"Never."

"Then don't. Do it for her and all the other girls Dante Capaldi kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking."

Ross was trying to dunk a crumpled paper ball when I got back to my desk. He paid no attention as I loudly cleared my throat to make him look at me.

"If you have something to say then say it," he muttered.

"Do you think I should do it?"

He concentrated on me. "I'm assuming your talking about the op."

"Of course...What did you think I was talking about?"

"Nerd in Converse."

"Shut up."

"If you succeed, you'll be taking down a kingpin. If you don't succeed you could get killed. Not really a win-win situation. But what do I know? I'm just your drinking buddy." He added with a fake smile. Ross did like holding grudges.

"I'll do it," I announced walking into Gibson's office.

A satisfied grin spread across Osbourne's face, "Good."

"But I have conditions. I want Derek to run point on this mission. And I want Jake Newman part of the team."

"Fine," Jackson frowned. "Welcome back Mrs. Capaldi."

Nightmares flooded me that night. It was the same dream throughout the whole night. I would wake up at different times and fall back asleep with his face on my mind. In the dream, he had a hand around my neck and the more I struggled to get away the tighter the grip was. Alessandra was there but she kept moving away disappearing into the distance and I couldn't help her.

I woke up gasping and choking for air. Sweat had pooled around me. I slowed down. 

"Alessandra Katerina DeNiro." It was something I had learned in therapy: the therapist wanted me to say a name of an important person in my life every time I had nightmares about Dante, to bring me back to to reality.

I laid back in bed looking up at he pitch black ceiling. I could still feel Dante's hold on my neck, there was no escape from him.