by Mary Stone
As much as I wanted to believe I’d simply imagined Natasha’s scrutiny, I couldn’t afford to ignore any sign, no matter how small.
I’d have to watch Natasha, and if she got too close, then I’d deal with her.
14
As Alex pulled his car to a stop in front of a sprawling, two-story Victorian, he tried to ignore the nagging in the back of his head that told him he shouldn’t be here. That he was too damn old to pick up a date from a sorority house or that he was a creep.
He threw the gearshift into park and plucked his phone from the cup holder. Liliana D’Amato wasn’t expecting him to be here for another fifteen minutes, but Alex had a longstanding habit of arriving early to important functions.
Great. That means fifteen minutes to sit in my car and think about what a loser I feel like.
Alex typed a quick message to Liliana, letting her know he’d arrived.
The last time he’d seen Sal D’Amato’s youngest kid and the man’s only daughter, Liliana had still been in high school. Her braces had been removed by then, but her shy mannerisms and soft-spoken demeanor were far more reminiscent of a child than a woman.
But six years was a lifetime in Alex’s world. Liliana had just turned sixteen back then, and now she was almost twenty-two.
To complicate matters further, he’d bought an impressive princess cut diamond ring to make their engagement official. He had to figure out how to give her the sparkly jewel without coming across like an out-of-touch old man.
Maybe he should have commissioned a private driver so he could throw back a few shots of bourbon to chase away all the lingering uncertainty. As much as he hated relying on another person to cart him around the city, he’d be willing to sacrifice the independence of using his own vehicle for a stiff drink.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flicker of movement as the front door of the house swung inward. A gust of wind caught the woman’s long, caramel hair and rustled the burgundy fabric of a dress that peeked out from beneath her gray peacoat. Hugging the jacket tighter around herself, she pulled the door closed and stepped out onto the covered porch.
As her gaze fell on Alex’s car, she raised her free hand for a quick wave. Though he wasn’t sure if she could see him through the tinted window, Alex returned the gesture.
The closer she drew, the more and more certain he became of one simple fact…Liliana D’Amato was a woman. Not an awkward, chunky teenager, but a woman who’d grown into her own skin. Her mother, Mariana D’Amato, was a beautiful woman by almost anyone’s standards. Though Liliana had inherited her father’s hazel eyes, Alex realized she was a carbon copy of Mariana in every other way.
His gaze had wandered down to her shapely legs by the time he remembered why he was parked in front of the sorority house on the edge of the Chicago University campus. If Sal could see his only daughter strolling around the front fender of the gunmetal Audi to open her own door, the man would give him an earful, and then some.
“Shit,” Alex spat. He undid the seat belt with a click and shoved open the driver’s side door just before she’d reached the end of the sloped sidewalk.
The unseasonable chill cut through the finely made fabric of Alex’s black suit jacket, and he wondered how Liliana—with her legs exposed from just above the knee on down—wasn’t frozen stiff.
Her red-soled pumps clacked against the concrete with each step as she approached. When she reached his car, Liliana demurely glanced up to meet Alex’s gaze. She batted impossibly long eyelashes, highlighting the contrast of green and brown in her gemlike hazel eyes, and smiled at him.
“Hey. I’m, uh…I’m sorry.” He stumbled over his words as he gestured to his car. “I must’ve spaced off or something. Let me get that door for you.”
Liliana shook her head, sending a wave of caramel hair fanning out over her shoulders. “It’s fine, Alex.” Her smile was dazzling as she stepped off the curb to follow him. “Honestly, I’ve always felt weird when dudes went out of their way to open doors and shit for me. Makes me feel like they’re going to expect something in return.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before turning to face her. As his fingers brushed the door handle, he met her gaze. Alex had grown up in the mafia lifestyle, and he’d known Sal D’Amato since he was a toddler. The Passarelli family had always been close with the D’Amatos, and though Sal was of no blood relation to Alex or his parents, he’d always looked at the man as an uncle figure.
Throughout the D’Amato family, Sal was notorious for his crass remarks and never-ending sarcasm. To be sure, Sal wouldn’t hesitate to bring down an iron fist when he needed to knock someone in line, but the guy had a hell of a sense of humor. All three of Sal’s sons had inherited their father’s jovial personality, but Alex hadn’t expected the trait to extend to Liliana.
The D’Amatos were ahead of their time in plenty of their business aspects, but gender equality had never been one of their strong suits.
Another gust of wind blasted him like a slap to the face, bringing him back to the moment. He could either continue to exude the stuffy air of a so-called gentleman, or he could take a risk and, well…he could be himself.
What’s the worst that can happen?
Prying open the car door, he nodded to her. “Well, I do want something. I want you to let me pick what we listen to on the way to this restaurant.”
Her lips parted in a grin that revealed a million-dollar smile. That was probably how much Sal had paid to ensure its perfection. “You do know I paid attention to my dad’s work over all these years, right? I know when I’m getting the short end of a deal. If opening my own door meant that I could pick the music we listen to in the car, I would’ve done it.”
Not quite the princess he’d expected, but he admired her snark. Maybe this arranged marriage thing wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d imagined. Alex considered the possibility as she slid into the passenger side seat and decided to give this a fresh start without any of his original preconceived notions. “Sorry, Liliana. Deal’s already done. I hope you like the Bee Gees.”
Before she could reply, he shoved the door closed with a victorious smirk. Covering her mouth with a hand, her shoulders shook with laughter he couldn’t quite hear. He hadn’t thought his remark was that funny, but maybe Liliana was relieved too.
Was he relieved? Or was her unexpected demeanor a new source of trepidation? Had Sal fitted his daughter with a wire so he could test Alex?
Maybe he should have made more of an effort to get to know Liliana after his father had announced the marriage arrangement.
Though he was sure his expression belied none of the anxiety that had seeped into his brain, his heart knocked against his ribs as he circled around the bumper. With one last effort to push the uncertainty out of his head, he pulled open the driver’s side door and dropped down behind the wheel.
Setting her handbag beside her feet, Liliana fixed him with a questioning look. “Okay, where are these Bee Gees tunes I was promised?”
With a chuckle, Alex retrieved his phone from an interior pocket. “Normally, I’d stick to that promise. But since this is the first time you’ve been in my car, I’ll try to be a little more accommodating.” As their eyes met, he forced his expression to remain level. “Other than the Bee Gees, what do you actually listen to? I like a little of just about everything, so I think there’s a good chance we can reach a compromise.”
“Okay.” She batted her eyes coquettishly at him. “How about the Dave Matthews Band?”
He searched her expression for any signs of deception but found nothing. Shaking his phone at her, he turned his attention to the windshield. “I guess we’re driving in silence, then.”
As another round of melodic laughter bubbled from Liliana’s lips, she reached for her seat belt. “I’m kidding. They’re fine, I don’t have anything against them, but that’s far from my first choice.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Okay, okay. Really, though, I listen to a bit of everyth
ing too. Lately, I’ve been on an electronic kick, but I’m pretty amenable. Anything from Chris Stapleton to rap to metal, and I’m probably okay with it.”
Some of his anxiety dissipated. “I listen to a lot of EDM while I’m working, mostly because it doesn’t usually have words.” Swiping a pattern to unlock the screen, he was about to add to the statement when the first buzz vibrated along his ribs. “Shit. Hold on.” As he dropped the smartphone back to the cup holder, he reached into his jacket for the archaic flip-phone he used for work.
After a quick look at the number, he flashed Liliana an apologetic glance.
She waved a hand, clearly used to men in her life being forced to take a phone call. “No worries. Go ahead. Answer it. I’m used to random work calls, believe me. Dad and my brothers get plenty of them.”
He gave her a thank you smile as he pushed open the driver’s side door. Though he was sure Liliana had heard more than her fair share of business-related conversations, he wanted to maintain some shred of politeness.
Just in time for another gust of chilly air, he elbowed the door closed and answered the call. “Yeah?”
“Hey, kid, it’s me.” Uncle Tony’s greeting sounded unusually strained. “We’ve got a problem.”
Alex’s mouth went dry. When Tony sounded like that, it was something serious. “What’s going on?”
“I just got a call from Elana. It’s about one of your guys, Gabriel Badoni.”
The reference to Elana Haviv and the prestigious law firm the D’Amatos kept on retainer raised the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck. “Shit. What about him? What happened?” Gabriel was one of Alex’s most competent lieutenants, and after a scuffle had ended with him shooting a Leóne soldier in the throat a few years ago, Gabriel had made a point to lie low.
“He was arrested this morning.”
“Arrested?” Alex didn’t bother to conceal his incredulous tone. “What the hell for?”
“That’s almost exactly what I said when Elana told me about it,” Tony argued into the phone. “But this is the really weird part. He was arrested for the murder of a CPD homicide detective, Ian Strausbaugh. Do you have any idea who that guy is? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
“Strausbaugh? No. I’ve never heard that name before. What evidence do they have? When did this happen?” He massaged his temple. “There’s no way he just went off the rails and took out a fucking homicide detective for no reason. I sure as hell didn’t give an order for that, and I know none of my people did, either.”
“They’ve got ballistics.”
“They’ve got what?”
Tony hesitated, clearing his throat before he replied. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought you’d say. I asked my brother, your dad, and he didn’t know who Strausbaugh was either. Elana’s looking into it, but it wouldn’t hurt for us to do the same.” The rustle of wind on Tony’s end of the line gave way to the faint creak of a door. “Look, I know you’re busy tonight with Liliana, so I’ll take a look at this Strausbaugh guy after I have some dinner.”
Alex rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I appreciate it. Let me know what you find.”
“Will do. Take care, kid.”
“Thanks. You too.” As Alex flipped the burner phone closed, he swallowed a groan and let himself back into the driver’s seat.
“That sounded bad. If you need to deal with it, that’s fine.” Liliana spoke matter-of-factly. No doubt she’d dealt with countless occasions where family plans had been halted for family business. “We can reschedule.”
It was nice of her to offer and further proof of her family loyalty. He shook his head, fearing he might have bigger problems to deal with if Sal learned Alex had stood his daughter up. And besides, Tony was already looking into it. He had a few hours to spare.
“No. We’re still going out. I’ve got a mess to clean up later, for sure, but it’s not the type of thing I can do anything about right now.” He snatched the smartphone from the cup holder, unlocked the screen, and handed the device to Liliana. “Here, find us some tunes. It’s almost six, and I’m sure we’ll wind up in traffic on our way downtown.”
As she accepted the phone, her expression brightened. “All right, I can do that. We can eat some good food, have a few drinks, and take a load off.”
That was the plan. And after the call he’d gotten, Alex really needed to blow off some steam. He shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
If physical evidence tied Gabriel to a murder he hadn’t committed, Alex’s options to resolve the issue were limited. The D’Amato family had plenty of detectives and beat cops on their payroll, but he couldn’t be sure their reach extended to Strausbaugh’s precinct, wherever in the hell that was. And if ballistics had already been analyzed, then sabotaging evidence was out of the question.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself back to the present, but the effort was for naught.
The FBI had the reach and the authority, but the bridge between him and the only active federal agent who was friendly to the D’Amato family had been set ablaze earlier that week.
No, Alex would figure out a way to keep Gabriel from prison.
Amelia Storm would be an absolute last resort.
15
Midway through a yawn, Joseph’s eyes snapped to the glass and metal door of the conference room as Amelia Storm emerged from the hallway, a coffee cup in each hand. For the last few days, they’d worked together to sift through surveillance footage and prison records that pertained to the day Carlo Enrico had been stabbed at MCC Chicago.
Though they’d operated under the assumption that Enrico wasn’t likely to recover from his extensive injuries, especially the irreversible brain damage he’d suffered as the result of a series of strokes during surgery, Carlo had clung to life until early the previous night.
Not that Joseph cared. He wanted to find the pedophile detective as much as Amelia, but he didn’t intend to arrest the man. The sick bastard deserved a long, excruciating death—an end Joseph was more than happy to provide.
When Joseph wasn’t focused on the tedious tasks for their investigation, he’d made a point to test Amelia’s physical boundaries. Whether brushing against her as he leaned over her shoulder to get a better view of her laptop’s screen, touching her fingers when she handed him a pen, or sitting closer to her at the oval table, he had yet to receive a rebuff of any sort.
She was receptive, and the time to make his next move inched ever closer.
Reaching out to accept a paper cup of coffee, Joseph pulled himself away from the dangerous thoughts. “Thanks. I sent you the money for it already.” He straightened as she dropped into the mesh-backed chair at his side. “How was your lunch break? I didn’t leave the building.”
“Fine.” She took a sip from her steaming latte. “At least I got to leave the building, obviously.” She tilted her cup in the air for effect. “But I don’t really feel like I left, you know?”
Joseph grinned, knowing all too well how Amelia felt. Working the entire weekend made him forget what day it was. He glanced at the calendar. Tuesday. How the hell did that happen?
“Oh yeah. I feel that. Believe me.” He waved a hand to gesture to the sunny conference room. “Might as well move in. I see this office more than my living room.”
Amelia chuckled as she glanced around the room. “Me too. Maybe we should bring in a comfy couch and a couple wall sconces to brighten the place up.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got a meeting with Bailey Howison in an hour to go through her and Norman’s crime scene report, so maybe it won’t feel like home for that much longer. Plus, we ought to have the M.E.’s write-up by the end of today, early tomorrow at the latest.”
Joseph rubbed his chin. “That’s true. I guess we’ve just got to hope that all the evidence is enough to point us to the guy who did it.” He took a quick drink of caramel-flavored coffee before he set the cup down beside an open laptop.
Pushing back to her feet, Amelia wandered around the tabl
e to the whiteboard. “We double- and triple-checked, and these are all the corrections officers who were on shift when Enrico was killed.” Her gaze roamed over the rows of handwriting.
“Along with their location at the time of the attack.” Joseph tapped a couple keys to bring up a list of images and videos that had taken him and Amelia almost a week to compile.
The tedium of their attention to detail had paid off. Aside from two guards, they’d accounted for all but two of the corrections officers who were in the prison at the time Carlo had been stabbed.
Dropping both hands to her hips, Amelia blew out a sigh. “All we’ve got left are Cole Irving and Russel Ulmer.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Wait…can you pull up a picture of Irving? That name is familiar.”
“Yeah.” Joseph clicked over to a separate folder and scrolled until he found the man’s name. As Amelia stepped closer to the table, he turned the screen around. “Cole Irving. Prison records say he’s been working at MCC Chicago for almost six years. There’s only ever been one complaint filed against him, and honestly, it sounded frivolous to me. An inmate threw a fit because Irving took away some cookies they’d smuggled in.”
Of all the stupid things to complain about. Annoyance formed a crease between Amelia’s brows. “Really? Cookies?”
Joseph lifted a shoulder. “I’ve heard stupider, believe it or not.”
She took a step back, shaking her head. “No, I believe it.” She waved a dry-erase marker at the laptop. “But I recognize that guy. He was the CO who let Palmer and me into our meeting with Carlo and his lawyer.”
Turning the laptop back to face him, Joseph flashed her a curious glance. “So, he’d have known Carlo was going to roll over, right?”
As she tapped the marker against the heel of her other hand, she looked to the whiteboard. “He could have, yeah. Could’ve put two and two together and figured out the most likely reason that a couple federal agents would visit a prisoner.”