Chapter 9
MIA
Iused to love how loud the city was.
It kept me from feeling alone.
But tonight, the sounds of honking cars, police sirens, and random shouting from the street below feel more like nails scraping against a chalkboard.
I sit cross-legged on the floor of my living room, hunched over files and photos scattered across the hardwood.
I thought organizing the evidence would calm my nerves.
Seeing a clear connection between clues always made me feel closer to peace—or at least whatever version of peace people like me are allowed to have.
But this case is different.
My eyes snap to the bag of evidence taunting me from across the room. His wallet is inside, along with my father’s watch I couldn’t bear to see collecting dust in the evidence room.
A sharp pain tears through me as I look away.
I’m not just staring at the pieces of the life of a stranger. This is Vince.
My sweet, caring, and sometimes kind of a hard-ass brother that didn’t deserve to die alone in an alley. He didn’t deserve to die like—God, I can’t think of that right now.
I groan, dragging both hands down my face before leaning against the hard back of my couch. The lack of sleep is catching up to me. It used to be my dad’s lifeless body haunting my dreams, but now Vince is right there next to him.
And there’s another person there too, but they’re very much alive with their voice curling around my mind like silk laced with barbed wire.
I know exactly who it is, but I’m worried if I give him a name, he’ll appear out of mid-air like Voldemort.
After last night, it feels like he’s everywhere now. In my apartment. At work. In my fucking bloodstream.
I squeeze my eyes closed, attempting to erase the thought before settling on the very full glass of vodka sitting to my right.
I grew up around men who drowned themselves in cheap liquor after doing terrible things, but it was never enough to drown out the constant pressure weighing down my conscience.
I peek at the clock on the wall, dreading what I have to do in the next twenty minutes. Seeing Dante the first time was hard enough, but this is going to cut much deeper.
This time I have to walk in there and face the disappointed look in his eyes when I tell him I couldn’t stay away from the one man he warned me about.
This was a mistake.
Going after Leo was a mistake.
So was kissing him.
“Fucking Christ,” I curse, pushing myself off the ground and onto my feet.
It was just a kiss.
A reckless, hot as hell, stupid mistake that I can’t stop thinking about no matter how many times I try to remind myself that he’s a horrible person who is using my weaknesses against me.
And maybe if I keep repeating that to myself, my body will believe it too.
And for a second it works.
It works until I start picturing the way he roughly pressed me against the wall and dragged his hands all over my body like he was trying to memorize every inch.
Fuck it, I tell myself and grab my glass of watered-down vodka before tossing it all back.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Vince is dead.
Keith is one wrong move away from losing his job.
And I’m here thinking about kissing a man who gets off on ruining my life without blinking an eye.
I let go of a humorless laugh, pressing my hands against the counter and shaking my head. I’ve never felt more pathetic in my life.
An exhale leaves my lips as I push off the counter and head over to the coffee table to grab my phone.
The screen lights up with a missed call from Keith, but I ignore it.
I’ve been avoiding him all day—finding any excuse to not go into the precinct.
I hate pushing him away, but he’s the one good thing I’ve had in my life since starting over and I’m not going to pull him into the shit show I’ve created for myself.
I’m about to slide my phone into my pocket when the screen lights up again.
Every muscle in my body tightens when I see the message.
Leo: Your time is almost up, Cara. Funny thing is…
Leo: I don’t know if I want you to fail or prove me wrong.
Leo: I want to punish you, but I like your fire.
Leo: Either way, I’m not done with you.
I stare at the messages, my grip getting tighter and tighter with each reread.
What a fucking asshole.
He may be a good kisser, but he’s still the devil, and by the time this is all over, he’ll find a way to make sure I burn.
“This place hasn’t changed,” I say, my gaze sweeping over the old apartment. All the same furniture is here and there’s still the thick smell of smoke and leather cocooning me in nostalgia as I walk deeper into the space.
“Yup,” Dante replies, dropping into a chair that sits around a cluttered kitchen table. “Sit.”
My eyes stick to his hand as it points at an empty chair. I can feel fragments of memories popping into my brain of my father sitting in that exact position. And then a dark red color comes seeping in to ruin it.
I suck in a sharp breath and lower into the chair.
Dante scans my face, and a sharp “v” settles on his forehead. “I’m guessing you’re here because you know who killed Vince?”
A dull ache settles low in my gut. I should be out hunting Vince’s killer. Instead, I’m letting some pretty boy use me as a puppet. I had the opportunity to grill Leo about his connection to my brother’s death, and instead I let him walk all over me.
I need to find a way to escape him.
“No,” I say, averting my gaze from his. I can’t bear to face the disappointment. “I think it’s connected, but I’m here for a different reason.”
“What?” he says, his chair creaking as he leans forward.
I reach for the words, but nothing comes out.
“What?” he repeats, slower this time. I can feel him inching closer, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I drag in a breath. It burns zig-zagging down my throat. “I need you to meet with someone. It’s important.”
Dante leans back, his face hardening. “What’s going on, Mia?” he sighs, raking a tattooed hand over his cheek. “You wouldn’t have come unless you were in trouble.”
I take another ragged breath and force myself to look him in the eyes. “I need you to agree to a meeting with Leo DeLuca.”
The reaction is so quick it almost makes me jump out of my seat. His hand curls into a fist and he slams it down on the table. Random papers float to the floor. “Absolutely not.”
“Dante—”
“Mia, I told you to stay away from him for a reason,” he snaps, rising to his feet. The chair legs scrape across the floor, making me cringe. “Vince should’ve never agreed to help him. If it wasn’t for Leo DeLuca, our brother might still be alive.”
“I don’t think Leo killed him,” I say, surprising myself. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.
“No shit,” Dante replies, walking toward the row of windows looking down toward the street. “He’d never do his own dirty work. He’s got Michael for that.”
“Michael?” I whisper. “Shit. Not Michael Chen?”
Realization washes over me as I picture the scrawny quiet boy we grew up with. Our family worked with his. Hell, I remember chasing each other through the streets of New York.
“That’s the one,” my brother rasps, the light-yellow hue of streetlights casting a shadow down one side of his face. “Fucking traitor.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I sigh, standing up from my own seat and walking closer. “Leo knows everything.”
Dante cracks his neck on each side before slowly turning back toward me. “What did he threaten you with?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to admit my stupidity. I should’ve known better. Should’ve been more careful. “My job, the investigation, and my partner,” I swallow. “He’s ready to blow up my entire life.”
My brother surprises me when a crisp laugh comes out of his lips. “Sounds like something DeLuca would do. That’s exactly why I told you to stay away. You’re lucky you have something he wants, or you’d be buried already.”
Lucky is the last word I’d use to describe how I feel right now.
“I don’t need the lecture right now, Dante,” I groan. “I wouldn’t have gone after him if I didn’t think he had something to do with Vince’s death. They’re connected somehow, and I know Leo is the key to it all.”
Dante snorts, turning away from me. “And exactly why don’t you think it was DeLuca? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that bullshit charm of his.”
My face grows hot, but thankfully the shadows keep my mistakes hidden for now. “The whole thing was too messy to be him. Too public.”
My brother turns slightly, giving me enough attention to continue.
“If he wanted Vince gone, he would’ve made him disappear quietly.
An accident or maybe an overdose. Even if he had someone do it for him, being gunned down in public invites cops, cameras, autopsies, and attention.
He’s a politician. A guy like him spends a long time curating their public perception, and they wouldn’t throw it all away on a sloppy kill. ”
Dante’s breathing comes out shaky as he grips both sides of the window ledge. “What if he cared more about sending a message than perception?”
“He cares about control,” I say, correcting him, “and this wasn’t controlled. This was messy.” Even if Dante moved the body, there was still a body to move. Someone like Leo wouldn’t have left anything to find.
He turns fully now; his lips set in an angry scowl. “I still don’t buy it. Vince was working with Leo one minute and dead the next. It doesn’t add up.”
I shake my head, trying to justify defending a man that I should want to bury alive. But regardless of my feelings toward Leo, I still believe in finding the truth, and my gut is telling me he didn’t kill Vince.
“I’m not saying he’s completely innocent, but if I want answers, I have to play his game,” I say, my chest deflating, “and for some reason he needs you for the next level.”
Dante stares at me, his eyes sharp and his face set into a concentrated tightness. But then I see a tiny crack break through the shell of his hard exterior and the corner of his mouth curls a fraction of an inch.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed at you for doing the opposite of what I told you, but there’s some small part of me that missed this.”
“Missed what?”