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She’s quiet as she answers.
“I know about your dad,piccolina.”
“What?”
She twists in her seat.
“There was no way my family would hire you without vetting you. You’ve been through the FBI and DOJ background checks before. This was the same.”
“Somehow, I doubt it was. I bet it was far more thorough. What did you learn besides my father has dementia?”
She doesn’t enjoy having the tables turned where her history is the focus instead of mine.
“I know you have him in Manhattan, but you want to transfer him to New Jersey.”
“How far back did your investigator go?”
“A year for that sort of stuff.”
“He or she hacked my phone and email, didn’t they?”
I won’t incriminate anyone any further. She’s getting testy, and I don’t want this to devolve. She looks out the window while she speaks again.
“Could you change the subject or something rather than leaving these gaping holes in the conversation when we get to something you don’t want to discuss?”
“It would be a ping-pong game. There’s a lot I can’t tell you, Sinead. We’d be jumping all over the place. It’s not that I enjoy keeping secrets, but some of them aren’t mine to tell. Some of them are dangerous for you. I’ll tell you what I can.”
“As long as it pertains to the case.”
I want to screamno. But we’re supposed to have professional distance from each other. So far, we’re shitty at keeping physical distance. I have to regain some mental distance. I can’t keep that if I share everything with her. Anything that involves me pretty much involved Carmine until he got married last year. Everything else I can think of off the top of my head involves at least one other person in my family.
“It’s safest that way.”
And that bothers me more than I care to examine right now. I’ve already shared more about myself than I do with anyone outside the family. I don’t date, so it’s not like I have girlfriends scattered all over who know my past or what matters to me.
“I don’t want to be evasive, but I’m going to have to be. I’ll tell you as much as I can for the case, but if there’s something I won’t say, it’s because it endangers you or my family or people who rely on my family. I can never make decisions without considering who might suffer from it. I don’t have that luxury.”
As I gaze into her eyes, I’m drowning. Drowning in my desire for her. Drowning in all the lies I must keep. Drowning in the exhaustion that yet another fucking disaster adds to my life. None of it has ever been fair, but such is life. I remember as a child learning about the American Revolution. Life, liberty, and thepursuitof happiness. No one promises you actually get it. I prefer the original version, John Locke’s life, liberty, and property. Sums up reality much better.
“I’m sorry I pushed. I don’t know much about the inner workings of theCosa Nostra, and I get I’m never supposed to. But common sense told me I shouldn’t ask things I know you can’t answer.”
“I wish it weren’t like that.”
We ride in silence, both looking out our own windows until we’re back in Manhattan and pulling up outside Lorenzo’s restaurant in Chelsea.
“Pauly will walk you inside. I’ll be right behind you. There’s a nook near the restrooms where I can see everything. I’ll stand there. Signal me or walk over if you need anything, including wanting to leave. Pauly will be just inside the kitchen.”
We’ve done this so many times we all know our preferred stake out spots in an establishment we frequent. Lorenzo worked with Matteo— who’s an architect —to design the entire restaurant that way. Same with the club. He made sure it all worked out with Carmine, who’s a structural engineer and construction manager.
I tap on the window, and Pauly opens the door. I watch as Sinead swings her legs out before standing, careful not to flash anyone. I wait until she’s on the sidewalk and away from the car before I get out. I shut the door, and she glances back. A moment of panic registers on her face when she realizes I’m not as close as she expected. My long stride allows me to catch up to them as I button my suit coat.
“It’s all right,piccolina. I don’t want people to assume we’re arriving together. It’s not good for your date, and it’s not good for anyone watching either of us. Go ahead. I’m close.”
I fall back and watch as Pauly opens the restaurant door for her. He enters and surveys our surroundings. He whispers something to Sinead before he moves toward the kitchen. I wait for her to look around until she spots her date. I watch her move across the restaurant toward a man I vaguely recognize from my building. I’m excellent with faces and names and voices and smells and all the shit. He’s not memorable, but I know I’ve seen him before. I wander over to the hallway with the restrooms. I step into the shadowy nook and lean against the wall. It would be easy to get bored and think about wasting the time on my phone. But I’m working. The only reason I’m even standing here is because I’m protecting someone who matters to my family. Someone who matters to me.
In the time I’ve spent with her, she obviously matters more than some attorney working for a fat check. Putting aside our physical attraction and what happened last night, I could see us being friends if I had any of the female persuasion. The only women I’m friends with all have the same last name— Mancinelli. I watch as Josh smiles and waves, but the dipshit doesn’t stand up when she arrives at the table. It’s a fucking date, douche.
I watch the host hand Sinead a menu before he walks away. Only a moment later, a server arrives. Josh raises his glass, showing he’d like a second of whatever wine he’s drinking. I bet it’s the cheap house wine Lorenzo won’t even let his chefs cook with. I notice she glances toward the kitchen. Josh catches her attention and makes her smile. Why? I want to know what the fuck he said that made her smile. Possessive much? What the fuck is the matter with me? We screw one time. I’m not kidding myself that’s all it was. I want to roll my eyes and shake my head at myself.
