AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I grab a fresh sheet of paper, scribbling down the details of that conversation. Is it possible the Rinellas know something about Lazaro's whereabouts? Or are they just trying to stir up trouble for their rivals?
My gut twists. If the D'Amatos are truly boasting about killing cops, it lends credence to Peter's theory about his father's murder. But it also means we are dealing with a far more dangerous situation than we'd initially thought.
I glance at my watch, surprised to see how late it has gotten. The night has slipped away as I've fallen down this rabbit hole of connections and theories. But I can't stop now. Not when I feel so close to a breakthrough.
I reach for another folder—the missing persons report Lana had filed for her brother. I’d skimmed it before, but now I poreover every detail. The lack of police follow-up, at least in terms of why he disappeared, is glaring, but not surprising, given Lazaro's rap sheet. What catches my eye are Lana's meticulous notes. She'd conducted her own investigation, interviewing witnesses the cops had overlooked.
One account stands out, where a shop owner claimed to have witnessed Lazaro's attack and abduction. Or at least someone who matches Lazaro’s description. I read the description of a dark-colored van speeding away from the scene. But there is something else. A partial license plate number. It isn't much, but it is more than we'd had before.
I lean back, processing what this could mean. If this witness account is accurate, it changes everything. Lazaro hasn't simply gone on the lam. He's been taken. Considering his family business, it seems likely he’s dead, but my impression is that Lana thinks he’s still alive.
The pieces of the puzzle shift, forming a new picture. What if Lazaro's disappearance is connected to Peter's father's murder? What if someone has taken him to keep him quiet? It’s a theory, one without much substance, but still, I scribble notes. The first thing I need to do is see if I can track down the van. And in doing so, we might just crack open the whole D'Amato case. Especially since it appears my ice princess has a weakness. Her brother.
All sorts of possibilities come to me on how I can use this to gain more information from her. I have a strange, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach about that. Like it would be crossing a line. But no… manipulation is part of the process of solving mysteries sometimes. If it means bringing down a criminal empire and giving Peter the closure he desperately needs, then it is worth it.
I can offer to help with the investigation into Lazaro's disappearance and in doing so, show Lana that I am on her side, at least in this. If she feels someone is helping her brother, she’lllet her guard down and possibly reveal the information I need to wrap up all these loose threads. It’s a risky move, assuming the D’Amatos did kill Peter’s father. But if I play my cards right, it could get me closer to the D'Amatos than we've ever been.
I shake my head, trying to clear away the fog of exhaustion, wondering if I’m making connections that aren’t there. Perhaps it’s time for a break. First thing tomorrow, I'll start looking for the van. Then I'd find a way to approach Lana with this new information. The idea of seeing her, sparring with her again, sends a thrill through me, and it’s not about danger. Well, not mortal danger. It’s more about the taboo sensations I feel when I’m around her and how much I’d like to find out what’s underneath her cold exterior and her fitted suit.
Fuck! Just my luck, a woman who isn’t just off-limits, but who also lives a life totally against my own values, would reawaken a libido I thought was dormant. I shake my head of my carnal thoughts to focus on what’s important. One way or another, I am going to get to the bottom of this case and put the D’Amato family in jail.
5
LANA
Iwake with a start, my head pounding from the wine I downed after last night's disaster. Sunlight streams through the curtains, making me groan from its brightness burning my eyes. I bury my face in the pillow as memories of dinner flood back.
God, I was such a bitch.
The look on Elio's face from all the vile words… the tantrum I threw. I screwed up, big time.
I drag myself out of bed, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes reveal my sleepless night. My hair is wild, practically untamable. I’m sure that’s how Elio sees me. Untamable.
The pressure's getting to me. The Rinellas breathing down our necks and those damn cops sniffing around every corner. And Detective Lutz…
No. I shake my head, banishing thoughts of those piercing blue eyes.
I splash cold water on my face, willing myself to snap out of it. I'm Lana D'Amato. I don't fall apart over a little heat.
As I slip on my silk robe, I make a silent vow. No more losing my cool. No more lashing out at family. I'll apologize to Elio and trust him to make things right with the Rinellas. And I’ll deal with the police as I have been, quite successfully, if I do say so myself.
I march to my closet, selecting a crisp white blouse and tailored cream pencil skirt with lace camisole underneath the coordinating tapered blazer. I choose a softer color, wanting to appear less bold, less bitchy when I grovel to Elio, but still exude power at work. I forgo the usual red lipstick for a more neutral color and soften the makeup around my eyes. I feel a tinge of annoyance that men don’t have to consider all this when they do business. When they’re assholes, they’re seen as bold and brazen, whereas women are seen as bitches or emotional. Men blame women and their feminine wiles, but if we don’t use our assets, we can’t get what we want. That’s not to say I’ll sleep with a man to get my way, but I’ll change my appearance. I’ll flirt if necessary, something I’ve tried with Detective Lutz, but oddly enough, that has become a game between us. And ugh… why am I thinking of him again?
Once I feel put together and ready to face the day, I head down to the kitchen. There I’m greeted by a woman with wild red hair whom I’ve never met.
“Oh, hello!” She greets me with a wide smile. “I’m Diana.” She extends her hand.
I shake it, wondering who she is beyond Diana. “Lana.”
“Nice to meet you. Can I make you breakfast?”
“Ah…”
Anna, our cook, enters from the pantry. “Ms. D’Amato. This is Diana. She’s just been hired to help me.”
I remember a while ago Elio discussing getting help for Anna, who at sixty is nearing retirement.
“Welcome.’ I try to smile, but the wine fog makes it hard. “I just need coffee.”
