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A heavy silence falls between us. I watch as a detective steps out of his car, his eyes scanning the warehouse before landing on me.
“I’ve got to go. The cops are chomping at the bit to raid the place. Lucky for you, they won’t find anything.”
“You just said this isn’t about me. It’s the family. Again, Lana, if you’re going to work in the business, then it’s not lucky for me. It’s doing your fucking job to protect the family as well.”
Damn it again, he’s right. “Gotta go.” I end the call, lowering the phone, staring at the two detectives who make their way toward me. My lips curl into a smirk as I recognize the two men—Detectives Henry Lutz and Peter Hartley, Chicago’s very own dynamic duo. They strut toward me like they own the place, all swagger and self-importance. On Detective Lutz it looks sort of sexy. Like a hero in an action movie. On Hartley, he looks like a poser.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite detectives," I drawl, crossing my arms. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Lutz's eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of suspicion and something else I can't quite place swirling in their depths. This is the first time I’ve seen him since he and Hartley visited my office the other day. There was some snap, crackle, and pop between us during the encounter. It’s the sort of chemistry I’d beinterested in investigating even though he’s got to be a decade or more older than my twenty-four years. But he’s a cop, and my libido is just going to have to accept that he’s off limits.
"What've you done this time, Ms. D'Amato?" Lutz asks.
I raise an eyebrow, my smirk widening. "Shouldn't you be telling me, Detective? Or is this another one of your fishing expeditions? Really, boys. This is getting really boring."
"We go where the evidence leads us," Hartley says in a clipped tone.
I turn my attention to him, my voice dripping with mock concern. "And it led you here? My, my, your compass must be broken."
Lutz steps closer, invading my personal space. The scent of his cologne mingles with the crisp night air. Yep, too damn bad he’s a cop.
"We know something's going down here."
"Do you now?" I tilt my head, meeting his gaze head-on. "Since when is legitimate business illegal?"
“There’s nothing legitimate about you,” Hartley sneers. His disdain for me feels beyond normal police dislike. It almost feels personal.
“Peter.” Lutz shakes his head at his partner.
“You know, Hank… Oh, wait, you prefer Detective Lutz. If you wanted to spend time with me, you could've just asked me out for coffee. You don’t have to make up all these fake tip calls."
Hartley’s eyes flash with heat.
Lutz shakes his head at me this time. “This isn't a game, Lana."
I note that he’s using my first name. I’d told him to several times during our first encounter. Interesting that he remembers it.
"Isn't it?" I counter, my eyes never leaving his. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you boys are playing cops and robbers. And really badly, I might add."
Hartley steps forward, his patience clearly wearing thin. "We have reason to believe?—"
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "You have reason to believe a lot of things, Detective Hartley. Doesn't make them true."
Lutz's eyes narrow. "You seem awfully calm for someone whose warehouse is being raided."
I shrug, feigning indifference. "What can I say? I run a legitimate business. I have nothing to hide."
"Everyone has something to hide," Lutz counters, his voice low and intense.
I lean in, mirroring his earlier move. "Even you, Detective?" God, how I’d like to discover his secrets.But no, Lana, he’s a cop.
For a moment, I see a flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise, or maybe even admiration. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, Ms. D'Amato," Hartley interjects, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation.
I step back, smoothing out my jacket. "By all means, gentlemen. Knock yourselves out. But when you come up empty-handed, again, don't say I didn't warn you. And then I’m going to file a complaint because you’re clearly harassing me.”
“We’re doing our jobs,” Hartley says curtly.
