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"It is strange how your warehouses keep attracting police attention."
She smirks. "Perhaps the police have nothing better to do than to harass law-abiding citizens."
“Law-abiding?"
"Prove otherwise, Detective," she challenges, her eyes gleaming with defiance.
“I’m going to take a look around,” Peter says, heading to the warehouse without waiting for my response. I’m glad. Her attitude only keys him up.
She steps aside. “We keep an inventory. If something’s missing, I’m billing the city.”
I turn away to hide the upward twitch of my lips. How perverse of me to find her attitude compelling.
“So, what… you’re guarding me? Worried I’ll run off?” she says to me.
“Not at all. I can tell you’re a woman who likes to face down her enemies.”
Her lips quirk up. “Is that what we are, Hank? Enemies?”
I don’t love the name Hank. “Henry or Detective Lutz.” I can’t fucking believe I just gave her permission to use my first name.
“Mmm, Henry.” Her voice is smokey and sounds like she’s savoring something rich and decadent. It makes my dick twitch.
The tension between us is palpable, crackling like electricity. I'm acutely aware of how close we are standing. But I can't let myself get distracted. This woman is dangerous, in more ways than one.
I look into her eyes, and I'm struck by the determination I see in them. She's a fortress, unyielding and impenetrable. The man in me wants to get inside her, not just physically but in her mind as well. The cop in me can’t think like that.
I take a step back, trying to clear my head. This attraction, this pull toward her is a liability.
A moment later, Peter returns, his face the epitome of rage and frustration. "False alarm, Henry. Again.” His eyes dart to Lana with barely concealed hatred.
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "I see. Well, Miss D'Amato, it seems you're in the clear. For now." All of a sudden, it feels too intimate to use her first name. Especially in front of Peter.
Lana's lips curve into that cold smile I’ve come to know. “It’s Lana. Perhaps next time, you'll think twice before wasting everyone's time."
I clench my jaw because there’s something about this that feels off. A nagging feeling settles in my gut. Have we been played? The anonymous call, the conveniently empty warehouse. Not once, but several times now. It reeks of a setup, perhaps another Family out to get hers.
Or someone in the PD is tipping her off and she’s able to hide their crimes. I glance at Peter but quickly dismiss him as being in the D’Amatos’ pockets. He hates them too much.
It’s possible I’ve underestimated Lana D'Amato. She’s cunning. She’s certainly able to stay steps ahead of us.
My eyes follow her retreating figure. She’s good, I’ll give her that. But everyone slips up eventually. And when she does, I’ll be there to catch her and put her in jail.
“Let’s go, Peter.” I slide into the driver's seat of our unmarked car.
Peter slams his door shut, making the vehicle shake. Before I start the engine, he slams his fist into the dashboard. "Dammit, Henry! We're getting nowhere with these bastards!"
I sigh. "Easy, partner. We'll get them. It just takes time." I’ve been at this game longer than him. Over time, a good detective needs to develop patience.
Peter's laugh is hollow. "Time? It's been three years since they killed my father. How much more time do we need?"
I pull the car away from the warehouse. As we head back to the station, I mull over our situation. The D'Amatos are slippery, no doubt about it. Every lead we follow is a dead end. Every search comes up empty. It’s like trying to catch smoke with our bare hands.
But it’s not just the case that worries me. It’s Peter. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, noting the tension in his jaw. This obsession is eating him alive. Perhaps he shouldn’t be on the case, although I can’t imagine anyone being able to keep him away from it.
I want justice for his father as much as anyone. He’d been a good cop. Decent. Well respected.
"Look, Peter, I know you're frustrated. Hell, I am too. But we can't let them get to us like this."
