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After they leave, I loosen my tie and pour a heavy measure of scotch, hitting dial on the commissioner’s number.
“Frankie.” He sounds less than happy.
“Call off your dogs, commissioner. She’s your daughter, so I have allowed it this far. Enough is enough.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Hmm, so he didn’t order this?
A smile creeps up on my lips and I can’t help but lift the blind in the living room that looks out onto the road.
I wonder if she can see me.
“I’ll take care of it, Frankie.”
“Good.” I cut the call with this new information. Knowing she is here for herself gives me a whole new outlook on our situation.
The way her body reacted to me, I bet she likes watching me.
“Night, detective,” I say before I shut off the lights, knocking back the remainder of my drink. Each heavy step up the stairs is closer to another night of restless sleep, watching Leila go up in flames in my nightmares.
5
ZARA
I pull my jacket tighter as the cold air hits me. It’s only eight am, so I drive to Frankie’s house and park across the street. Reclining my seat, I blast the hot air and fight to keep my eyes open.With Dad being away, I’ve stepped in and helped Mom out. Every day is watching her fade away. She can barely walk five steps without getting out a breath. I swallow down the lump in my throat, as tears sting in my eyes.
Instead of dwelling on that, I focus on what I’m here to do.Despite my dad’s angry call in the middle of the night, I’m still here. I might have promised I’d stop, I just can’t. I know Frankie is hiding something. They all are.
His Porsche is parked in his driveway. The house is gigantic, a mansion even, with ivory covering the brickwork and black framed windows. An absolute dream. I tap my nails against the seat belt buckle and turn up the radio, slipping on my black Prada sunglasses. Even if they are oversized, I have no doubt Frankie would spot me a mile away. I don’t think my father realizes just how clever this man is.
I sit up and lean against the steering wheel as his front door opens. My heart hammers as two stunning blonde women appear, stepping out onto the porch. They’re followed by the man himself, his bare chest rippling in the morning sun. Oh my God. Even from here, I can see how perfectly built he is. Of course he is.
He grabs one of them by the back of the head and kisses her. I try to tear my eyes away, but I can’t. The blush is evident on her face from here, almost matching the heat on my own cheeks. He forcefully slaps her ass in her tight red dress and turns his attention to hoe number two, who gets the same service.
When his dark gaze connects to me, my heart almost thuds out of my chest.
Shit.
I should be worried he’s caught me. Again. Actually, what I’m more concerned about is I think that was a performance to get at me. The asshole knows he can get under my skin.
It only makes me despise him more.
He closes the door and I grab my phone, snapping pictures of the girls as they get in the car outside and note the plates to run when I’m back in the office.
It’s half an hour before he finally makes his reappearance. I’m taken aback when I see him in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black hoodie. I’ve only ever seen him in his designer suits. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his tattoos scaling up his right forearm.
Shit.
He breaks out into a jog, not even looking my way, and heads off down the road.
Shit. Shit. Shit.I wish I wore sensible shoes today.
I follow behind, keeping him far enough where I can just about have him in my vision as he jogs along the sidewalk. He takes a left; I quicken my steps to get him back in sight. The cold air creates a billow of fog with each breath.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I round the corner. He’s not there.
I do the best I can in my two-inch heels. Where the hell has he gone?
