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I scoffed. “What about him?”
His expression softened for a moment, an odd flash of something playing across his face. There was another flicker of doubt there, but also something else. Something I couldn’t place. Something fleeting. It was quickly replaced with a clenched jaw and coarse demeanor.
He rose to his feet, leaving me on the ground, my heart still pounding. My legs started to twitch as adrenaline pumped through my veins.
I clutched my badge so tightly in my hand that the edge embedded in my palm.
Luca turned away. “Lock her up on the radiator.”
With those final words, he disappeared out the front door and into the darkened hallway.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
21
LUCA
I heldher gun in my hand, taunting her with it as I held it against her cheek. I’d left her on the living room floor, handcuffed to the radiator for hours now.
Just trying to break her.
The cold metal of the gun pressed against her delicate features. My eyes locked onto hers, and I studied her expression. It was cool. Calm. Collected.
For now, anyway.
A wicked smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I had power over her; she just didn’t know it yet.
"You see, detective," I started, my voice dripping with malice, “you being a cop didn't concern me as much as your little family ties did." I pressed the gun a little deeper into her flesh, the metal biting sharply into her skin, hoping that it was a physical reminder of just how much danger she was in.
But she had balls of steel.
She didn’t give a rat's ass.
She was unfazed.
I wasn’t sure if it pissed me off, or if I admired it, but her eyes flickered with a defiance I had never seen in a woman. To say that it didn’t spark some sort of intrigue in me would be a lie. There was a fire in her.
It was admirable.
But I was going to extinguish it.
"I know who your father is," I continued, my voice low and threatening.
“And?” She rolled her eyes. “Who is he to you?”
“You don’t know?” I asked, studying her expression.
Would it even be possible for a cop to not know their old man was a mobster?
“Dominic Betrami.”
She nodded condescendingly. “Anyone with a computer could figure that one out, jackass.”
“Yeah,” I laughed, pressing the gun harder into her cheek. “But would a Google search show that he’s the prick who thought he could meddle in my affairs and start shit at my nightclub?” A surge of anger coursed through me, memories of the shootout tearing into the forefront of my mind. "Tell me, detective, how does it feel knowing your dear old dad has blood on his hands?"
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of pain and anger dancing across her face. I could see the turmoil spread through her. Either she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, or she was the best damn actor in the world.
She remained silent for a moment.
