Deception (The Chicago Mob Series)

Prologue

   I used to think Camila Russo was the lucky one of the two of us. She was never my best friend—I wasn't even aware she existed until I was sixteen years old. But there was always that resentment I had towards her after I found out the truth. Instead of having been abandoned like I was as a newborn, she was the one of us who got to live a life with our real mother.

   She had her reasons, Claudia used to tell me. Whoever your mother was, she had her reasons for having to give you up, Diana.

   Claudia Reyes was the only mother I ever acknowledged. She and her husband, Johnathan, raised me since the age of six months. In fact, she was the nurse that found me outside the hospital the day Alina Russo decided to abandon me.

   Johnathan and Claudia gave me the greatest childhood a kid could ask for. I had parents who loved me and gave me everything they could, who raised me with rules and guidance, sent me to the best schools and set me on the right path. I had everything I could have ever wished for. My life was perfect—even after I found out I had a twin in Chicago and was the only child that our mother had abandoned. It did hurt at first, but I eventually realized I didn't need Alina Russo as a mother. I had something far better. I had Claudia and Johnathan.

   But when your parents are murdered on a late Chicago night in April, when you've barely reached the age of eighteen and you're left with nobody, you start to realize that there is no such thing as perfect.

   So, I got the hell out of Chicago back then. I graduated, cleared out my parents' estate, collected all of their death benefits and assets, and took my ass to New York to attend John Jay College of Criminal Justice. I received Bachelors degrees in both Criminology and Forensic Psychology, then joined the NYPD as a police officer. After three and a half years, I joined the FBI. And I did everything in my power to stay away from my home state, but after a few minor mishaps at my last field office up in Boston, I was transferred back home to Chicago.

   At first, it took some time getting used to. A lot of time. Chicago was filled with nothing but old memories of my parents—memories that stirred up old feelings and brought back heartache. But reconciling with my sister made it somewhat easier.

   I had kept in touch with my twin all throughout my time in New York—but only after Alina Russo passed away and Camila reached out to me. Little phone calls here and there, short emails every now and then to let each other know we were still alive and doing okay. But once I joined the FBI, I had to keep her at a further distance.

   That was, until I returned back to Chicago last year.

   Only eight months I had with my sister. It wasn't nearly enough time. Staring at her dead body on the sofa made me numb. And the man's body beside her just confused me all the more. I didn't know who the hell he was at the time.

   As a favor to me, there was handful of FBI personnel roaming through the house. My sister's house. Touching her things with gloves, photographing the bodies and evidence. It angered me; but I knew they were just doing their job.

   The result of an overdose. Heroin. Most likely laced with Fentynal. That's what took my sister. And it was the scariest thing in the world, staring across at what looked like my dead self lying on the couch with absolutely no life left in her. It was like an out of body experience. Like I was a spirit looking over at the body I just vacated.

   "Okay, Reyes," said Chase, squatting down in front of the chair I was sitting on. He had that sympathetic look on his face. Like I was some kind of victim he was getting ready to speak to. "It doesn't look like there was any kind of foul play here. We found some men's clothing in your sister's bedroom—in the drawers, the closet, the bathroom. There's evidence all around that suggests the guy was living here. She never mentioned anything to you?"