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Arnie narrows his eyes at me. “Your brother is looking for you.”
“Well, where is he then?” I counter, gesturing to the empty seats around us.
“I will take you to him,” Arnie replies coolly. “When you’ve had a chance to recover.”
“Recover?” I laugh. “From the murder of my friend or the fact you drugged and kidnapped me?”
I can practically hear Arnie grinding his teeth.
“This must all be a lot for you,” he says in a measured tone. “It’s been a while since you were last involved in the mob.”
“Excuse me?” I reply, now incredibly confused. “Did you just say ‘the mob’? What is this, the 1920s?”
“You really don’t remember?” Arnie replies, curiosity lacing his tone to the point that it sounds patronizing.
“Remember what?”
Arnie straightens, pouring himself his own glass. “You’re a Maguire.”
“So?”
“One of the oldest Irish Mafia families in New York.”
I reel at the whiplash this conversation is giving me. I down my drink quickly to avoid thinking about the locked box in my mind. “What the hell are you rambling about?”
“Your father, Caleb,” Arnie continues with that same annoying tone. “When he died, your brother became the Don. Now I work with your brother.”
“I haven’t seen my brother in—”
“Five years?” Arnie finishes for me. “When your sister escaped with you to LA because she didn’t want to be a part of the mob anymore?”
Aimee? In the mob? The thought is so ridiculous I almost start laughing. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?” Arnie says, clearly starting to get frustrated.
“My sister wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Have you considered that perhaps you don’t know her as well as you think you do?”
“Stay safe. I love you. Sorry.”
When that message came through, I felt like I didn’t know her at all. She had left me behind, something she always swore never to do. What did I do to make her–
I mentally shake myself before I can get too absorbed in the thought. “I have another question.”
“By all means,” Arnie says with a tired look.
“You drugged me.”
“That’s not a question.”
“You. Drugged. Me.”
He flinches a little. “It was necessary.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh as I pull out my purse. “What was in the anesthetic?”
“Ketamine.”
