Chapter 7 #2
“Yeah,” I lie, dropping into my chair like my entire world didn’t just turn upside down. “Just an old colleague who wanted some advice on a case they’re working.”
His eyes narrow as he pulls out his assessing stare. Shit.
“You’ve been acting weird,” Keith says with a concerned frown.
“I told you I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” I say, which is the truth.
“Are you having bad dreams again?” he asks, making a cold and familiar sweat break out on my back.
There was so much blood.
So much.
I shake my head, rattling the memory from my brain.
I told Keith about my dad’s murder once, but it was easier to let him believe it was a bad dream—which again, not a total lie.
But at the end of the day, it was my choice not to tell my partner about my past. He’d never look at me the same if he knew I came from the same people we were trying to put behind bars.
“No.” I sigh, my hand squeezing my phone hard enough that my knuckles turn a ghostly white. “I’m just adjusting to this new sleeping medication the doctor put me on.”
He nods his head, still not entirely convinced. But thankfully he drops it and announces he’ll finish up our paperwork while I duck out early.
I decided not to tell him about the call in the stairwell. I have this sinking feeling that everything is going to go to shit soon and I don’t want to drag him down with me. I can handle tanking my career. I can’t handle ruining his.
I busy my mind by pulling up an old report and pretending to work, but my eyes keep wandering back to the timestamp at the bottom corner of my computer.
Meeting with Leo alone is stupid.
I’m probably walking straight into a trap.
But if he really does know what happened to my brother, I’ll do it.
I’d risk everything not to relive the torment of never knowing.
I press my palms firmly into my eye sockets as the neon sign of the twenty-four-hour diner keeps flickering. I can feel a headache cresting deep inside my skull, mocking me as the countdown to my meeting with the devil gets closer and closer.
When I remove my hands, I let my gaze scan the room again, marking my exits and memorizing all the patrons currently occupying the restaurant.
This place is right around the corner from my apartment, so I’ve been here plenty of times to know the night shift waitress by name and that the bathroom window will jimmy open if I put all my weight against it.
I am in the perfect environment to feel in control, and yet I feel anything but. My hands squeeze the stained ceramic cup tightly.
“Need a warm-up, honey?” Shelby asks, balancing a tray with one hand. I shake my head and politely decline.
She’s about to leave when she looks toward the door and her eyes widen enough to smooth out the wrinkles perched underneath. “We don’t get men like that in here.”
I don’t want to turn around because I know what I’m going to see.
The air shifts and the already quiet hum of conversation sinks to a nonexistent level—exactly like it does when a predator walks into a room full of people who are oblivious to the fact they’re prey.
Me? I already know I’m prey.
Or at least I’m going to pretend I am to get him to lower his guard.
Fake it till you make it.
“He’s not here for pie,” Shelby murmurs, leaning over my table with an expectant expression. I mutter a barely audible curse word and swivel in my seat.
Leo DeLuca stands inside the entrance with a scowl that he somehow makes attractive.
His hand keeps gripping the door like he’s unsure if he wants to be seen in this dump.
And he probably shouldn’t. In his form-fitting suit and perfectly styled hair, he looks like some sort of movie star that stumbled in looking for somewhere to hide from their crazy fans.
That thought alone makes me want to pat myself on the back for making him come here, but then his eyes lock on mine, and my mind goes blank.
His mouth bends into a deadly curve and his eyes darken. And then he starts walking toward me, his shiny shoes keeping perfect rhythm with the sound of my uneasy heartbeat.
Shelby straightens when she realizes that he’s here for me. “Looks like someone has a hot date.” She winks. “Good job, babe. I’ll let you two catch up before I come back for his order.”
She spins quickly, making her way back toward the kitchen, and I groan at just how wrong she is. This isn’t a date.
More like a death sentence.
Leo stops in front of the booth, his stare inspecting the duct-taped faux leather with a special kind of disgust. Although I’ll settle for that look instead of the heated one I get when his attention focuses back on me.
“This is your idea of neutral territory?” he asks, smacking his lips together. Visions of last night melt through my brain, but I try my best to ignore them.
“Sit or leave. I couldn’t care less,” I reply, taking a long sip of my coffee.
I see his jaw tick as the same amusement from last night sparks in his pupils. He makes me sweat for another second before letting out a dramatic sigh and sliding into the seat across from me.
What a drama queen.
“Put your phone on the table.”
“Excuse me?” I say, raising a brow.
“Don’t make me ask again, Emilia. I’m simply being cautious. I’m tired of people recording me without my permission.”
I scoff but obey. The thought of recording this conversation never even crossed my mind. “So, you know about your little espionage problem? Guess I’m not the only one who wants a piece of the big bad Councilman.”
His gaze drops to my lips. It’s quick, but unfortunately enough to make me squirm. “If you wanted a piece of me, all you had to do was ask.”
I roll my eyes. “Go to hell.”
Shelby reappears, setting a mug that matches mine in front of Leo. “Coffee?”
He glances at her, and that charm that he can seem to turn on for everyone, but me, takes over.
I think I hate politicians.
No.
I know I do.
“Yes, perfect. Thank you,” he says, his gaze dropping to her name tag. “Shelby.”
She blushes, smiling sweetly as she fills his cup, and then she practically skips away like five minutes of his attention made her night.
What a tool.
Leo turns back to me, shimmying off his jacket and loosening his tie. “To answer your question, yes, I found the bug. If anything, your failed stunt helped uncover an actual threat.”
My nails claw into the faux leather seat, piercing into what’s left of the cushion underneath. It’s the only thing keeping me from reaching for my gun strapped tightly against my side. “Since you clearly have all the answers, I’m guessing you caught the guy too.”
His shoulders go rigid. “My guy is working on it, but whoever did it is good at covering their tracks. You don’t happen to have any more information for me, Cara?”
God, I wish I did. I’d dangle it in front of his stupid face and feed him breadcrumbs until he snapped.
It’s hard to explain the type of satisfaction I’d get out of seeing this man drop the calm and collected routine. I see small cracks here and there, but I’m like an addict and I need more.
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Wrong answer.” He smiles, grabbing my knee underneath the table and squeezing hard. Hard enough for it to hurt, but soft enough to know he can be more aggressive if he needs to be.
“Here’s the deal, Emilia. As far as I’m concerned, I own you. I have enough dirt to bury you and then come back for seconds.”
He’s right. But he underestimates my own self-destruction setting.
I stare back at his darkening expression and press my lips together in contemplation. His gaze drops again. Maybe I do have something he can’t have. At least, not again.
“Fine. I don’t have anything.” Yet.
“I believe you,” Leo says. I wait for him to release my knee, but he keeps it there. Maybe as a warning or maybe he just wants to touch me.
The latter could work in my favor.
“Now let’s talk about how you’re going to put yourself to good use.”