Chapter 22
MIA
“Yes and no,” Katy says. “The only full set of prints is from someone named Marco Bellini.”
“Okay,” I say, looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone before slipping behind a cracked-open door. “Did the system flag anything on him?”
“He was into some shady stuff,” she says, clicking her tongue. “Multiple counts of assault, drugs, and weapon charges. But nothing ever stuck long enough to keep him off the street until right before he died.”
“It sounds like we have a lead. Why did you say ‘and no’?” I ask, taking in my surroundings for the first time. It’s a small room lined with bookshelves and a huge desk in the center of the room.
“That’s the thing. He’s been dead for the last twenty years.”
“Shit,” I say, leaning up against the desk and squeezing the bridge of my nose. “Another dead end.”
Katy sighs on the other end of the phone. “The weird part is the prints I lifted don’t look old. It’s difficult to date, but they would’ve degraded by now if they were decades old.”
“So, I’m dealing with a zombie?”
“This job isn’t that cool,” Katy mutters. “My best guess is the dead man might not actually be dead. These organized crime guys fake their deaths sometimes, right? Or is that only on T.V.?”
I frown. “You didn’t say he had organized crime connections.”
“Oh yeah, there’s a note in his file that he had ties with the Caruso family.”
The room spins around me. It can’t be a coincidence.
“Mia, are you still there?”
I blink rapidly. “Yes,” I say, forcing the shakiness out of my voice. “Thank you, Katy. I can take it from here.”
It feels like a lie. The closer I get to my brother’s killer, the more complicated things get.
“Yeah,” Katy says, followed by a brief pause. “Just be careful, okay? It’s hard to explain, but something about this feels off.”
“You have no idea,” I murmur, barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Don’t forget about our deal!” she says quickly before I rush her off the phone.
The matchbook could be a fluke. But now everything is connecting like some fucked up puzzle that I never wanted to solve in the first place.
I shake my head. I can do more research at the precinct tomorrow, but for now, I need to make it through the rest of the night.
With a few more deep breaths and eying down an expensive bottle of scotch that might feel better going down than up, I gather what little resolve I have left, grab my phone, and push myself toward the door.
I reach for the handle with a new sense of determination and pull it open only to find Leo’s tall body filling up the frame.
“Eavesdropping is rude.”
“Trespassing is rude.”
“The door was—” I stop myself. “What are you doing, Leo? I was only gone for five minutes, so you obviously followed me back here.”
His lips sink into a straight line as he quickly looks over his shoulder. I stand there waiting for his response, but instead of words, two strong arms reach out and force me back into the office.
“I was going to follow you back here and fuck you up against a wall, but imagine my surprise when I overheard something much more interesting.”
“And what was that?” I ask, playing dumb.
The corner of his mouth tilts up and his eyes sparkle. It’s the exact look he gets whenever I challenge him.
“I may have gotten a little distracted the other night,” Leo says, trailing his finger up and down the strap of my dress. I shudder under his touch but keep my face relaxed. “You never told me what you found at the Velvet Room, and based on your conversation, you found something big.”
A gnawing pressure forms low in my forehead. “As long as I solve Vince’s case, why do the details matter? Unless you have something you’d like to tell me?”
My mind thinks back to the tension drifting around us at dinner. Leo wasn’t telling me everything, so why the hell should I?
Leo rakes a hand down his face, pausing at his temple and closing his eyes. “I thought we were on the same page.”
I stand my ground as he steps closer.
I should back away. Create space before I give in to the weak feeling that starts at my knees and winds its way up my spine.
But I don’t.
“We have the same goal, but that doesn’t mean you have to be in control all the time,” I say, my voice firm and steady.
Leo opens his eyes and drops his hand to my waist, letting out a breath from deep in his chest. “You still think this is about control?”
“I grew up with men like you, so I consider myself an expert,” I spit out, my words harsher than I intend.
His eyes flash, and he steps forward, guiding me back against the desk I was death-gripping only a few moments ago.
When my ass hits the edge of the mahogany, he leans in close and says, “And what happens if you end up in another situation like that night at the Velvet Room. Now that you’re on Enzo’s radar, I might not be able to protect you.”
It feels close to the truth, which is exactly why I don’t trust it. “I’ve done just fine protecting myself for the last decade, so I think I can manage.”
Leo lets out a frustrated laugh, tilting his head to the side. “How can you grow up in that world and still be so na?ve?”
“Na?ve?” I repeat, bracing my hand against his chest and shoving as hard as I can. “You don’t get to call me that.”
He doesn’t budge.
“You think I don’t know what I’m dealing with?” I continue, my temper starting to fissure. “I ran, changed my name, became the opposite of everything I came from because I know what that world does to people. So don’t stand there on your ivory tower and tell me I don’t.”
His jaw tightens and his eyes shift, but not with amusement. It’s something heavier and somehow more compelling.
“I still don’t think you understand,” he says quietly, his eyes dropping to the wood floor paneling. “I can’t—” he begins but struggles to find the words.
“Can’t what?” I ask, tapping my foot.
“I can’t let him—no, I won’t let him hurt you.”
My first thought is bullshit. This man doesn’t care about me.
But when he looks up, there’s a new vulnerability shining in his eyes.
And for one reckless and idiotic second, I believe him.
And that realization stops me.
I harden instantly. “Don’t,” I say sharply.
Leo’s forehead wrinkles as his brows press together. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t stand there and pretend this is about me,” I say, holding my hand out in case he tries to invade my space again.
His expression tightens, subsiding back to a more familiar version. “It is about you.”
“No, it’s not,” I snap, trying to keep my voice even. “If Enzo finds out who I am. What I’m doing. Then your plan goes up in flames. Your little mind games might work on my boss, my partner, and your family,” I say, dragging out a shaky breath. “But they won’t work on me.”
“Oh really?” he asks, all the vulnerability dripping away and revealing the man underneath.
“Yes,” I sigh. “You manipulate everyone around you and call it protection. You’ll do anything to get your way, no matter the consequences.”
Leo is silent, but I can see his mind working overtime behind those dark green irises. It makes my nerves bind up low in my stomach.
“You’re right.”
I snap my eyes to his. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’re right, Emilia,” he repeats, shaking his head and letting out an irritated exhale.
“That’s exactly what I do. But I will never apologize for what I’ve done to get to this point,” he states, passion rising up around his words.
“And I will never apologize for trying to keep you safe. You can act like you hate it, but we both know that you’re a masochist for the way I—”
“For the way you what?” I cut in sharply, refusing to let him continue. “Confuse protection with possession?”
His jaw tightens as he leans into my ear. “For the way I get underneath your skin,” he whispers, reaching out to delicately drag his pointer finger from the base of my neck to right underneath my chin, “and stay there.”
I bite the inside of my bottom lip just to stop myself from closing the gap between us.
“Like I ever had a choice.”
“That’s right,” he bites. “You’ll never have a choice around me because you gave that up the second you stepped into this.”
“I—” I stop myself. I can’t trust what will come out of my mouth right now.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to sit up straight and ignore the pull he has on me. “Does the name Marco Bellini mean anything to you?”
“I thought you weren’t telling me anything,” Leo says, crossing his arms.
“I’m not,” I say. “It’s just a question. I’ll show you mine when you show me yours.”
And just like that, our charged moment dissipates into thin air.
Leo’s grin slips, but only slightly. “Where did you hear that name?” he asks, attempting to coax more information out of me.
“Depends. Why did things get weird when I told your family I’m a cop?”
A beat passes, but no one budges.
Leo exhales slowly. “Then I guess we’re done talking.”
“You look like shit,” Keith says, not bothering with a hello or a good morning even though I had the decency to pick him up a coffee on my way in this morning.
But he’s not wrong.
“You always know exactly what to say,” I deadpan, shooting him a dirty look.
He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the computer in front of him as he squirms in place. “Seriously,” he begins, clearing his throat. “Did you sleep last night?”
My stomach tightens.
Barely.
After arguing with Leo for a solid ten minutes after we got back to his place, I convinced him to let me take the spare bedroom. I needed time alone after everything that happened yesterday. Mainly, I needed to remind myself to keep him at arm’s length.
But that quickly bit me in the ass, because apparently I only sleep well when I’m next to him.
“I’m fine,” I say, sliding my jacket off my shoulders and dropping it onto the seat behind me.
Keith crosses his arms, not convinced. “I call bullshit. We’ve been working together way too long for this broody detective act.”
Normally, I’d fire back with a fun antidote or sarcastic comment, but I don’t have the energy this morning. I’m physically here, but my mind is still stuck on last night.