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“Are you sure? I get anchovies on my pizza.”
Her nose wrinkled up in the cutest fucking way.
“No fishies. Or maybe, just on half, if you want them.”
“You have an aversion to fish?”
“Not my favorite thing to eat, no. I don’t mind shrimp or lobster. Shellfish is okay, but nothing with scales.”
And so began my efforts to dig a little deeper into Suzanne St. Valentine and her family. It was all under the ruse of getting to know her better, a double-edged sword that would have hurt to use if I hadn’t experienced the day from hell yesterday.
I ordered our pizza and a side salad served family style and started a conversation that said I was the attentive date, even though I intended to use every word she said against her brother at some point.
“You said you grew up in rural New York. Tell me about your family.”
“We lived in a small town about an hour’s drive from Rochester. My mother is a schoolteacher. My older sister Elizabeth is a private nurse, and my brother runs his own computer business. Don’t ask me to explain what he does - it’s so technical, I’m not even sure what it is. The two of you would have a lot in common, I think.”
More than she would ever know. I looked for signs she was hiding something. Her lack of knowledge about her brother’s front wasn’t surprising, but as I asked her some loose-ended questions while we waited for our food to arrive, I looked for any indication that she knew more than she was willing to tell.
“Does he live here?” I knew he didn’t. It was, unfortunately, one thing that St. Valentine and I did have in common. He had moved to Bridgeport about five years ago. Apparently, around the same time, Suzanne had moved to the city.
She shook her head, smiling at the waitress as she dropped off the check.
Our eyes met. Her expression said, “let me pay for it” and she started to reach across the table. I pulled it away before she could get to it.
“I told you,” was all I said as I pulled out my wallet. I didn’t look at the bill, mentally calculating what was owed and leaving at least that much as the tip as well.
“To answer your question, no. He doesn’t live here. He has a place in Connecticut. I’ve never been there, but he also has a home in the Adirondacks. I think, unlike me, he misses country life.”
I knew about St. Valentine’s place in Connecticut. Like any crime lord, it was a well-fortified estate, not in a residential area like ours, but a rambling ranch-style home outside the city. Considering that St. Valentine and I were in two different lines of work and weren’t technically rivals, I had wondered why he had decided to set up shop in my backyard. I wasn’t aware of his place in the Adirondacks, so I made a mental note to get Andre on it as soon as possible.
“What brought him to Connecticut?” I had always wondered what had brought St. Valentine into my area. Bridgeport wasn’t in the market for an arms dealer, yet he had settled in like he belonged there.
“I don’t know. He said he was looking for a house with land, but one that was still close to home. We don’t see him as much as we used to, but Sebastian has always been family-oriented. I’m not surprised he has stayed so close. He’s really not the big city type.”
“And you are?” I teased her. She could try to fit in all she wanted, but Suzanne in the big city was like the country mouse who wanted the adventure, but at heart, didn’t belong amongst the crowds and skyscrapers.
I knew that about her brother as well. It was St. Valentine’s attachment to his family that led me onto my current path - his family was his weakness.
My gut clenched as I realized we shared another trait.
But I had the upper hand.
I already had his nephew within my reach and now I had his sister even closer.
“But enough about me. We always end up talking about me,” she chided. “I want to know more about you.”
I played it cool, ready to lie through my teeth if I had to. “I don’t like talking about myself.”
“You don’t say.” She took a drink from her iced tea as she gave me a contemplative glance over the rim. “Okay. Then I’ll ask point-blank questions and you can just answer them.”
I had to play along for appearance's sake. It wasn’t like she was wired or anything. And...
Why the fuck had that thought not occurred to me before?
I was using Suzanne, but what if she was really the one using me? I kicked myself for being such a douche. She was no more an FBI informant than I was. But no one suspected Romano of being one either. It was time to lay on the charm and the lies.
“Fine. But you can start your inquisition on our way back to Manhattan.” I started to rise but stayed seated when I realized Pop, the restaurant’s owner, who was practically a NYC landmark on his own, was making his way to our table. I picked up my beer for a last drink, hoping the size of the mug would hide my face.
