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“It’s a woman,” I said. “Definitely not Mickey.”
“We have the evidence, though, Ty,” Daniel said. “Does it even matter if there’s another cop? We kept this shit out of enemy hands; that’s what matters.”
“I’m not sure if it matters,” I admitted and closed the laptop. “But I want you to see what Weiss had on Hendrix and get our people working on who killed Ivan Volksov. See if you can track down Irina.” I glared out the window, hoping that take-no-shitRussian lady was okay. “Or any of his girls. Shit, I hope nothin’ happened.”
“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said in a soft voice. “I always appreciated that Irina was never scared of me.” He let out a rough laugh. “She thought it was cute how fucked up I thought I was.”
I swallowed hard then lightly pushed the side of his head. “Why would she be? You’ve got no fuckin’ game,cugino.”
“Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night,” Daniel said and put his laptop in his bag. “By the way, why is Mickey Weiss still alive? Heavy wouldn’t give me the full story of what happened after I, uh, left.”
Involuntarily, I recalled Lia tumbling out of the closet, the panic in her eyes and her bloodstained hands as she tried to staunch Mickey’s wounds. She’d begged and cried for a stranger’s life — a stranger that she’d been stealing from.
Another piece that doesn’t make sense.
I shrugged. “There’s no story. Do we really need a dead cop on top of everything else?”
“That’s not it,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I could guess, though. It’s probably the same reason you’re so distracted.”
“Mickey Weiss isn’t going to say shit,” I said. “Not now that he knows we’ve got his number. He got a warning shot to the gutand if he values the second chance we gave his sorry skin, he won’t make a move.”
“You think he was only going against the Michaelson family in secret because he fears us?” Daniel asked lightly. “Can’t imagine that; it’s not like our dads weren’t the scariest fuckers in Boston since the Strangler.”
I grabbed Daniel’s shoulder. “We’re not them, Danny.”
“Only what they created,” Daniel said, and my hand slipped from his shoulder.
His gaze had gone distant and cold, his voice a little too monotone for my liking. I was about to slap him out of it when he shook his head and blinked, his normal good humor and mischief back in place.
“Sorry, that was morbid and melodramatic even for an Italian.”
“Get out of my fuckin’ car and get some sleep, would ya?” I asked and pretended to shove him out the door.
Daniel gave a good-natured laugh and got out, calling it a night as I watched him go into the house. Only then did I realize my fingers were drumming nervously on the steering wheel and I forced myself to stop.
Drawing in a deep breath, I told myself it was nothing to worry about.
At times like this, I couldn’t help but wish our cousin Luca was home. He’d grown up semi-normal, or at least as normal as a Michaelson could ever be. His parents had actually given a shit about him and had tried to shield him from Sal, even if they had agreed to let my father train him. Luca also had that perceptive, easygoing way about him where he always knew the right thing to say. He was a charming bastard but Luca’s real weapon was how much he cared about us. He’d go to the ends of the earth to fix a problem for his family, and that was why he was in Sicily.
Damn, I missed him. Regardless of the fact, I wouldn’t actually dare say anything like this. I’d have to give him a call and ask him to try and snap Daniel out of it.
As I drove home though, I had to wonder what we were snapping Daniel out of.
Maybe Danny-boy is struggling with a distraction of his own.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lia
After Ty left, Flora came and retrieved me.
I’d been sitting on the couch, thankfully dressed again and staring at the food on the table, torn between wanting to eat everything and wanting to throw it everywhere, maybe smash some strawberries onto his imported rug, splash wine on the white curtains, and overturn the furniture for good measure.
It had been such a potent play, I’d been sitting on my hands, trying to talk myself down and act reasonably. But my inner brat had always been hard, if not impossible, to deny. Part of me wanted to lash out at him for kidnapping me, for seducing me and then leaving me. Deep down, I knew my anger was displaced and the only I was truly pissed at was myself, not him.
However, another wicked and even brattier part of me wanted to act out simply to see what Ty Michaelson would do.
Flora’s arrival had brought me back into my senses and I decided to leave behind all that happened in the room – for now, at least. I’d been under duress. Ty was an experienced, powerful man who was probably used to people eating out of his hand. He probably wanted them to, as well
