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“At least not Elio. He seems to recognize your intelligence.”
I think it is a compliment, which I try to brush off with a wry smile. "Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start to think you actually respect me."
His eyes lock with mine, and there's an intensity there that makes my breath catch. "I do respect you, Lana. More than you might realize."
Warning, warning, warning. I look down at my food to break the charged moment. “By the way, Mafia is a dirty word.”
“Oh?” His expression is intrigued. Then he looks worried. “Does it offend you?”
“Would it matter?”
His smile is soft, even sweet. “Yes. I don’t want to offend you.”
Dammit. Warm feelings swirl in my gut. I shrug, hoping he doesn’t see how much his words impact me. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just wrong. It’s assigned to a group of people, not what that group calls itself.”
“Good to know.”
Meanwhile, I’m sure I’ve said too much. If this got out, I could be in serious trouble, not so much from Elio, who no doubt would be pissed, but from other Families. Breaking the code of silence is problematic. Then again, I’m not a made woman,as women still aren’t officially initiated into the organization. I’m sure other Families won’t care that I didn’t take the Oath of Omertà. They’d still see my oversharing of our ways as a betrayal.
"What about you, Henry? No arranged marriages in your family?"
He laughs. "No."
As we settle into our dinner, the conversation veers in a new direction, thankfully. Henry shares bits and pieces of his past. Pulled in by him, I hang on every word.
"I remember my first arrest," he says, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "I was so nervous, I nearly forgot to read the guy his rights."
"The great Detective Lutz, fumbling through his first arrest? I find that hard to believe."
He shrugs, his eyes twinkling. "We all start somewhere. I wasn't born with a badge and a steely gaze."
As he continues to open up, I soften toward him. He tells me about his childhood in a rough neighborhood, how he decided to become a cop to make a difference. There's a vulnerability in his words that I never expected to see.
"A lot of people in my neighborhood saw cops as the enemy.” He glances up at me, his expression saying,Just like you do.
“Not you?”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to change that perception."
“That’s admirable.”
He looks at me, surprise evident in his eyes. "You mean that?"
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Henry. I admire someone who has a strong character and determination, even if they are a cop.”
As the evening progresses, I'm laughing more freely, my usual guard slipping away. There's a warmth in my chest that Ican't quite explain. It terrifies me, and at the same time, I don't want it to cool.
When he tells me about losing his partner in a shootout early in his career, I feel an overwhelming urge to comfort him. Without thinking, I reach across the table and squeeze his hand.
"I'm so sorry. Losing someone isn’t easy.”
He looks at our joined hands, then back at me. The vulnerability in his eyes makes my heart ache. "It was. But it's what drives me to be better, to do better."
I realize I'm still holding his hand, but I can't bring myself to let go of the connection.
When dinner finishes, Henry walks me to my car. He whistles when he sees it. “Nice.”
I smile. “It is, isn’t it?” I pat it, wondering what Lazaro would think of me showing off his prized car to a cop. He’d laugh and call me nuts. Then he’d tell me to be careful even as he'd encourage me to walk this tightrope. Lazaro was daring like that.
