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I busy myself, straightening up my apartment, though it's already tidy. Anything to keep my hands occupied while I wait. My mind still whirls with possibilities about who is behind Lazaro's disappearance. Peter’s dislike of the D’Amatos comes into the forefront of my mind. He's had a vendetta against theD'Amatos ever since his father's murder. Could his desire for revenge have pushed him to take matters into his own hands? It's a chilling thought, considering how close we've become as partners.
I recall Peter's words about Lazaro. "I don't care that Lazaro D'Amato disappeared three years ago. I want the family brought to justice." At the time, I took it as frustration, but now I wonder if there was more to it. Still, his indifference doesn't necessarily imply guilt.
But then I remember Peter's actions yesterday. He didn't hesitate to report the cops who mishandled Lana during the search. If he hated the D’Amatos enough to cross the line, he wouldn’t have reported the cops.
The more I think about it, the less likely it seems that Peter was directly involved. He's passionate about bringing down the D'Amatos, sure, but kidnapping? Peter idolizes his father who wouldn’t condone such vengeance. No, Peter wouldn’t do anything that his father would disapprove of.
When a knock comes to the door, I suck in a breath to steady myself. I need to be professional. I need to stick to the law. I need to not let my feelings for her cloud the work I need to do.
I open the door. Lana stands there looking so fucking beautiful.
"Come in.” I step aside to let her pass, but unable to help myself, I reach for her, pulling her close. Our lips meet in a fierce, desperate kiss. It's as if all the tension, the fear, and the longing I've been holding back suddenly break free. My hands tangle in her hair as I deepen the kiss, savoring her taste, her warmth.
For a moment, the world fades away. There's no case, no missing brother, no conflicting loyalties. Just us.
But reality crashes back in all too soon. I pull away, breathing heavily, my forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry," I murmur,though I'm not sure if I'm apologizing for the kiss or for what I'm about to tell her.
Lana's eyes search mine, confusion and desire swirling in their depths. "Henry, what's going on?"
“Come in, and I’ll share what I can.”
As she settles on my couch, I remember her expression, a mixture of anger and hurt as her office was searched. Their aggressive behavior nags at me, especially in light of what I've learned about the missing tapes.
“Want a drink?” I ask.
“Sure. You should pour yourself two. You look like you need it.”
My lips twitch up at that. I enjoy her banter. I pour us drinks, handing one to her. I hold mine as I stay standing, nervous energy propelling me to pace.
"Before I tell you what I found, I need to ask you about those officers yesterday. Did you recognize any of them?"
Lana shakes her head. "No, they weren't familiar. Why?"
"Their behavior was way out of line. It makes me wonder if there's more to it than just following up on a tip."
“It certainly felt personal.” She shudders, and I want to lock us both away from the world and shelter us from the ugliness of the world.
“But you don’t know them? Would Elio? Would Lazaro have?”
She thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. But why come after me? Despite what you think, Henry, my work is one hundred percent legit.”
I had no doubt that was the working line. My research into Mafia families indicates that women aren’t officially initiated as soldiers or leaders. Lana is smart, and I imagine she’s an advisor to Elio, but also, her work in their legitimate activities keeps her separate from their criminal enterprises. It’s genius, actually.
“I don’t know.” There’s something gnawing at me. I don’t want to let it through, but I also can’t dismiss it. What was the point of yesterday’s search? What if it was to take her as they’d taken Lazaro? Perhaps this was a vendetta against Elio.
“But you think they had personal motives?"
"It's possible.” My brain is in overload as more possibilities flood in.
“Did they take Lazaro?” Her voice is soft. It’s only when she talks about Lazaro that I feel like I see the real her. The unguarded Lana. The warm, loving, loyal woman.
“I don’t know. The problem is that we don’t know why he was taken. There are too many possible motives from too many people.”
Her eyes narrow and her guard goes up. “So, what now? You’re going to give up.”
I sigh, not wanting to battle with her. “No. But this isn’t straightforward, Lana. Was his kidnapping about him?”
“Who else would it be about?”
