Chapter 11
LEO
“Ithink I’ve got something,” Michael says quietly on the other end of the phone.
“Make it quick. I have a meeting in five minutes,” I say, pushing down a yawn.
Breaking into Mia’s apartment last night wasn’t my best idea. I thought maybe if I saw her, I’d be able to convince myself she’s just another step in my plan. Unfortunately, she has leeched herself onto my brain and is the only one capable of fixing this unbearable ache inside me.
“Leo?” Michael asks on the other side of the line, pulling me from the obsession infecting my brain.
“Sorry. Can you repeat that?”
I hear an annoyed gurgle in response. “I said Little Russo’s partner has information. I tapped into their call last night, but he was smart enough to wait until they were in person to tell her. I think they’re meeting in an hour at some gym.”
“Give me half an hour and come pick me up,” I answer, gripping the device in my hand.
“Really? But you never—”
“The day I start explaining myself is the day I stop needing you,” I snap, cutting him off. A grating pressure settles behind my eyes.
“Fine,” he says before the line goes dead. What a diva.
I toss my phone in my desk drawer and rise to my feet, stretching out my limbs. I bring my wrist up to my nose and inhale the sickly-sweet scent of vanilla still clinging to my skin from last night.
Mia kept me waiting too long, so I decided to quell my boredom by going through her things.
Her apartment was bare. I could tell she didn’t spend much time there. She didn’t have many personal effects aside from the heart-shaped jewelry box I sifted through and a bottle of my new favorite smell. I left the cheap pile of jewelry alone and swiped the perfume.
I wonder if she’s noticed yet?
I was almost giddy thinking about the way she’d scream and curse my name.
“I’ve never seen a man stare wistfully out his window as much as you do.”
“Adrian,” I smile, turning toward the entrance of my office.
He smiles back, sauntering over to one of the chairs in front of my desk. “What’s on your mind?” he asks.
“Oh, just how much of a pain in the ass it’s going to be to get this new ordinance passed,” I sigh, rubbing a hand through the scruff starting to pop up across my jawline.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Adrian says, unbuttoning his jacket and leaning forward. “We’ve got it in the bag.”
“I don’t know why you’re so confident. Councilman Williams is breathing down my neck about the optics.
She thinks it favors certain businesses and not others.
” Which is completely true, but I’ll never admit it.
Just like I’ll never admit that I have no interest in getting this thing passed beyond being on Enzo Caruso’s good side.
Adrian hums, considering my words like he always does, but we both know that silence leaves room for the other person to doubt themselves.
“Williams doesn’t care. She’s like everyone else on the council—she cares about who’s going to remember her name come election season. We just need to make sure she remembers who the real benefactors of this borough are.”
I raise a brow and tilt my chin. “You make our profession sound so noble. What if she’s just looking out for the little guy?”
“Then she’s in the wrong field,” he replies easily. “I’ll talk to Williams.”
“No, I’ll talk to her again,” I say, flexing my hand. “I happen to know that her husband enjoys spending his nights at an underground BDSM club in Manhattan. If Williams doesn’t want to play her part, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me leaking that information to the press.”
Adrian’s mouth quirks. “It pays to keep the right people happy. Enzo knows that better than anyone.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Yep. Smart man,” I say, the answer coming out flat and unenthusiastic.
Adrian tracks my disinterest with a dark focus. “I decided to keep an eye on the Russo investigation.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “I thought you took care of that.”
“I did,” he says, rising to his feet. His head falls one inch shorter than mine, but his ego gives him an extra boost. “But I hear the detectives won’t back off.”
His comment immediately fills my head with images of that red dress. “I don’t have anything to hide,” I say evenly. “Besides, every lead she’s chasing passes through someone who knows better than to cross me.”
“She?” he asks casually.
“I met the girl at that gala the other night,” I say, recovering quickly from my fuck up. “Trust me, she’ll back down.”
Adrian’s brows push together before smoothing out again. “I just hope she knows that people who dig too close to the Carusos usually get the wrong kind of attention.”
“If she crosses a line, I’ll handle it. Trust me, soon she’ll have to label this one a cold case,” I suggest.
He accepts the answer as his shoulders sink to a relaxed position. “Good. I knew you’d have it under control. After you take care of Williams, keep putting that smile of yours to good use and the rest of the city council will be on board.”
“I know the drill,” I say, keeping my voice light.
I don’t care what happens to Mia Esposito after I’m done with her.
The problem is I can’t seem to figure out exactly when I’ll be done.
Michael parks a block away from the small boxing gym that sits on the corner of the street.
The building has blacked-out windows covered in pale grey graffiti and cardboard that’s barely patching up the cracked glass underneath.
I’d doubt the place was even open if Michael didn’t scope it out first.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten herself killed already,” I mutter, adjusting my jacket. “If I ruin my shoes, I’m billing you.”
Michael keeps his eyes pinned ahead, barely acknowledging me. He only speaks when I go to open the door. “Where are you going?”
“Into the gym? I thought we were tailing them.”
“We are,” he says with a pained expression on his face. “But the second you walk in with your designer suit, the entire gym is going to know you’re there.”
I grind my molars together. “Fine. You go in then.”
“Mia might recognize me,” he fires back. “We’re within range for live feedback. There’s no need to give up our position.”
I know I pay him good money to know this shit, but I can’t help the bitter tinge of irritation that rises up when I realize that Mia is a block away and I have to stay hidden away in a car. “Why am I even here?”
“You insisted.”
“Right,” I say, tilting my head to the side.
My foot bounces against the floorboards as I contemplate my next move.
I should stay in the car. If Mia knows we’re tracking her, then our fun little game of international super spy is over.
Then again, seeing the panicked look on her face when I pop up in one of her safe places makes my skin vibrate with a satisfying hum.
“I’m going in,” I declare, the excitement dominating the more practical region of my frontal cortex.
“That’s not a good idea,” Michael says. But he doesn’t try to stop me. He just opens his door and steps into my shadow. I can feel his judgment dragging behind us, but I ignore it.
When we walk through the door, I flash the kid behind the desk an easy nod, dropping a few bills into a chipped jar. He waves us through without a second glance.
The smell of rubber mats and stale sweat wafts up as we pass through the tight area. There are different machines scattered around the place, but the main star of the show is the beaten-up boxing ring in the middle.
And that’s exactly where I find her.
Mia shifts her weight expertly from side to side with her gloves held tightly near her face. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and her body drips from head to toe in black spandex.
“Let’s hang back here,” Michael says, his eyes sweeping the area for any unwanted attention. But it’s useless. Everyone’s eyes are on her as she throws her fists into the pad her partner is holding.
Each hit lands perfectly, producing a satisfying slap that makes my pulse tick with each new connection. I can feel the power of her swings all the way from back here and it makes me wonder why she even needs to carry a gun. Other than the fact that she likes to threaten me with it.
Mia’s partner, Keith something, grunts with each new punch she drives into him, stumbling back an inch every time. But she doesn’t slow down. She just pivots her weight and resets her stance before going in again.
She’s quick, brutal, and precise.
It’s intoxicating.
“Little Russo packs a punch,” Michael observes, making me turn my head toward him with a dirty look.
He ignores me, taking a step back and no doubt wondering if I’ve lost it.
Maybe I have, but that is a problem for another day.
Mia lands a final combination before dropping her hands and peeling off the gloves. I watch closely as tiny beads of sweat drip down her neck and into the crevice of her tight sports bra. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to drag her out of here.
Michael clears his throat behind me, motioning to Keith and Mia stepping off to the side of the ring. He waves for me to follow him behind a row of lockers that we use for cover as he pulls out his phone.
We both watch Mia grab a towel and wipe her face before pressing it to the back of her neck.
Damn, that’s one lucky towel—and shit, I can’t believe that thought even crossed my mind.
“Now that you’ve kicked my ass, can I show you what I found?”
“Yeah,” she smiles at him. My fingers curl tightly into my palm. “Thank you for being my punching bag. I needed that.”
“It’s been a stressful few weeks,” he agrees, nodding his head. “But maybe we should let someone else take this case. Maybe someone in organized crime that’s used to dealing with shit like this.”
Mia tilts her head, but keeps her disappointment locked inside. “What did you find, Keith?”
Keith hesitates, scanning the room before stepping closer to her. “Remember how I said I couldn’t crack the encryption?”
“Yeah,” she replies, his brows pushing together.
“I did some more digging and I was able to see where the signal wanted to go. It turns out the relay sits on a private network that’s connected to a couple of other investigations. Old ones.”
Wow. Maybe her partner isn’t completely useless after all.
“And I’m guessing those cases are connected to—”
“The Caruso’s,” he breathes, cutting her off. My molars grind together.
“Okay, so someone from the Caruso crew is keeping tabs on Leo? That just proves they’re connected somehow. It might be what we need—” This time she stops herself midsentence. “Never mind.”
Keith responds to her with a concerned frown but presses forward.
“Here’s the thing. I’m seeing a pattern with cases connected to the Carusos.
They always get shut down before anything can be resolved—just like the commissioner tried to shut us down when we wanted to bring in Leo DeLuca for questioning.
I think we’re playing with fire here. We could both lose our jobs or worse. ”
Pride and the tiniest bit of anxiety twist inside me when I see the way Mia’s entire body tenses up, just like it does when she’s ready to fight back. I can feel the fire inside her from over here, which is why I’m surprised when she says, “You’re right. We should drop it.”
“What?” Keith asks as surprised as I am. But somehow, I know she’s bluffing. Maybe her partner doesn’t know her that well after all.
“I’m agreeing with you. It’s dangerous, and we’re putting a target on our backs.”
He pauses for a moment, searching her face for the answers he won’t find. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious,” Mia shrugs casually. Way too casual for the way her hand shakes at her side.
“The Caruso’s obviously have connections inside the NYPD.
If we keep investigating Vince Russo’s murder, our warrants will keep getting denied, and eventually we’ll get reassigned altogether. It’s not worth it.”
“She’s a good actor when she needs to be,” I mumble. Michael throws me a side glance but doesn’t say anything.
“You never drop a case, Mia. Even when we were investigating that eighty-year-old widow that killed her grandson and we couldn’t find a shred of evidence. You didn’t give up until we caught her faking a limp. What the hell.”
“You’re the one that suggested it,” she says, the shakiness of her hand now vibrating up her arm. “I’m not going to argue with you for agreeing with your idea, Keith. I’ll talk to the captain when we get to the station. Just drop it. I’m going to go get cleaned up. Meet me out front in twenty.”
She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before tearing away toward the locker room.
Keith stands there, cemented in place and staring blankly like he can’t believe what just happened. Eventually, something clicks, and he makes his way to the men’s locker room.
“Do you really think the Carusos are spying on you?” Michael asks, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t given them any reason to mistrust me, but you know how Enzo is,” I shrug, “and if he knew what we were planning, I’d already be dead. So, it’s safe to assume we’re in the clear.”
“Right,” he replies, his expression an unreadable black pit. “Let’s get out of here then. I’ve got a few things I need to take care of.”
“I’ll take a cab,” I say, my eyes trained on the door Mia just disappeared through. “I’m going to go have a little chat with our girl.”