Page 92 of Merciless King

Annoyance and a little worry mix. Could Elio orchestrate a murder? Sure. Were the police he has on his payroll involved? Yep. But Gabriel really was threatening Piper and Elysse. The guy was a menace and had to go. The question is, are Lutz and Hartley really here about that?

I level a cold, assessing stare at the two detectives, my voice dripping with disdain. "It's interesting, the things that capture your attention. A boat sinks, a woman's abusive husband turns up dead after terrorizing her and her child, and suddenly, you're on my family's doorstep, looking for a connection. I should be flattered that you think we’re so powerful."

Hartley's face twists into an ugly sneer. "Don’t play dumb.”

“Tone it down, Pete,” Lutz tells his partner. He turns to me. “We’re just doing our job.”

“You’re doing your job?” I laugh derisively. "How noble of you. It's just a shame you couldn't have put this much effort into finding my brother Lazaro when he went missing."

Hartley opens his mouth, no doubt ready to spit some vitriol, but Lutz puts a hand on his arm, holding him back. "Let's keep this professional.” He turns to me. “Miss D'Amato, we're not here to accuse you or your family of anything. We're simply trying to gather all the facts."

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "The facts about what? Unless you think Gabriel sank the Rinellas’ boat. But I have no information about that. I don’t have information about any of it. Maybe it was human error. Maybe Vincenzo doesn’t keep up the boat. Accidents happen. And as your own colleague's report shows, one of your men shot Gabriel when he tried to kill my niece."

Lutz studies me intently, his eyes searching my face for any hint of deception. But I've been playing this game far too long to let anything slip. My mask stays firmly in place, cool and unruffled.

"I think we're done here," I say after a long moment, rising from my chair. "Unless you have any actual evidence of wrongdoing, I suggest you stop wasting my time and go back to writing parking tickets or whatever it is you do."

Hartley looks ready to argue, but Lutz puts a restraining hand on his shoulder. "We'll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

“Hmm… I suppose you’ll be back, then.” To be honest, I wouldn’t mind another visit from Lutz. He’s older than me by a decade, at least. But as much as I don’t like the police, there’s something about him that radiates authenticity. Like he sincerely believes in his work.

“I imagine we will,” he says.

I walk around my desk toward the two men now standing and ready to leave. A sly smile plays on my lips as I tilt my head, studying Detective Lutz. "It sounds almost as if you’re stalking me."

Lutz's jaw tightens imperceptibly, but he keeps his cool, professional mask in place. "Just doing my job, Miss D'Amato. It pays to be thorough in my line of work."

"Lana," I purr, my voice honey-sweet with just a hint of mockery. "And I have to wonder, is this level of thoroughness reserved for all your cases, or just the ones involving women?"

Hartley scowls at me, clearly not appreciating the sudden shift in tone, but Lutz doesn't even blink. He leans forward as he fixes me with an intense, unwavering stare.

"I can assure you, my interest in this case is purely professional," he says, his voice low and even. But there's a flicker of something in his eyes, a heat that belies his cool exterior. He’s interested.

I feel it too, the electric crackle of tension between us, and I can't help but lean in. "Is that so?" My gaze drops deliberately to his lips before flicking back up to meet his eyes. "And here I thought we were starting to have a connection."

Lutz's eyes narrow, but he doesn't pull back, doesn't break the charged eye contact. "I think you're mistaking professional curiosity for something else, Miss D'Amato."

"Lana," I correct him again. "And I don't think I'm mistaking anything, Detective."

We're close now, so close I can feel the heat of him. The air between us is thick with tension, a heady mix of suspicion and attraction. I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't seem to stop myself. There's something about this man that draws me in even as it sets off all my warning bells.

Hartley clears his throat awkwardly, breaking the spell, and Lutz blinks, pulling back abruptly. He stands, straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. "We'll be in touch, Miss D'Amato." He hands me his business card.

I take the card from Lutz, our fingers brushing lightly in the exchange. A spark of electricity zings through me at the contact, and I fight the urge for more contact. It’s one thing to use my wiles to manipulate men, but this isn’t that. Or not only that. What is wrong with me? The man is a cop, for Christ's sake.

"If you think of anything else that might be relevant to our investigation, please don't hesitate to call," Lutz says.

I glance down at the card, running my thumb over the embossed letters of his name. "Detective Henry Lutz," I read aloud. "Do you go by Henry or Hank?”

“Detective Lutz.”

I sigh. “Shame. This would have been an interesting meet cute, although asking me out for coffee or a drink would work better than accusing my family of nefarious activities.”

Lutz's eyes widen slightly, and for a moment I think I've managed to catch him off guard. But then he throws his head back and laughs, a deep, rich sound that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Beside him, Hartley shifts impatiently, his face set in a scowl. "If you're quite finished flirting with the suspect," he grumbles, shooting me a venomous look.

I arch an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "Suspect? I thought this was just a friendly chat."

Lutz clears his throat, the laughter fading from his eyes as he steps back, putting some distance between us. "We should be going. Thank you for your time, Miss D'Amato."

"It’s Lana, Hank," I correct him again, just to see the flicker of annoyance in Hartley's eyes.

Lutz nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Lana," he repeats, like he's testing out the feel of my name on his tongue.

Then he turns and strides out of my office, Hartley trailing behind him like a sullen child. I watch them go, my gaze lingering on the broad expanse of Lutz's shoulders beneath his well-tailored suit. Can he afford that on a cop’s salary? Maybe he’s on someone else’s payroll. Rinella, maybe?

As the door clicks shut behind them, I sit in my chair, leaning back. I turn Lutz's card over in my fingers. I have a feeling this isn't the last I'll be seeing of Detective Henry Lutz. And despite my better judgment, I find myself looking forward to our next little tête-à-tête.