by Gina LaManna
“Small matter if he’s part of a big corporation,” Anthony said. “Living with Clay, you should know that it’s incredibly easy to find out information about people. Even without their names.”
I hoped Anthony couldn’t see my spine stiffen. The helmet. Meg and I hadn’t made even a semi-clean getaway. We had to go back and get the helmet. Forget about the deal with Horatio’s grandmother. Screw the sauce. We needed the helmet. Sure, there was a chance the man would forget about us and write it off as an isolated, freak incident. But in my experience, men with guns had long memories. They also didn’t write things off as chance. And I was quickly gaining a lot of experience with men and guns, not necessarily in that order.
“There’s nothing I can do,” I sighed, trying to change the subject. I didn’t want to worry Anthony with something small – not when we had a much bigger assignment to work on. One that affected hundreds or thousands of people. “I shouldn’t have told you about it now. Let’s go to the warehouse. The bomb is more important.”
Anthony cleared his throat. “Your life is important.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, looking at my feet. “But we have to figure out this fireworks issue before a lot of people get hurt.”
“You misunderstand,” Anthony said, moving closer until his black-attired body pressed against mine.
Hesitantly lifting my eyes to his, I sucked in a ragged breath as he placed a hand just above my hip.
“Your life is important to me,” Anthony said. “And I don’t like when people I care about are threatened.”
My throat constricted with an overwhelming sensation I couldn’t yet name. It wasn’t lust – no, I knew what lust felt like all too well. Gratitude, maybe? A warm sensation bubbled in my stomach and tears threatened to leak from my eyes. I took a painful swallow and forbade those pesky, salty drops to slide down my cheeks.
It wasn’t until Anthony kissed me that I realized one of the feelings swirling in my veins. It wasn’t a passionate kiss on the lips or a sensual brush against my cheek. It wasn’t even the tingly spot to the side of my neck and just under my ear. He pressed his lips to my forehead so lightly that if I hadn’t been concentrating from the bottom of my soul, I would have missed it. It was a gesture so simple, yet one that meant so much.
I hadn’t felt this safe since I’d lain in my mother’s arms as a child. She used to come home from TANGO at all hours of the night, and she’d always crawl into my bed. It didn’t matter that she smelled like whiskey, or that I’d wake with glitter caked on my sheets. It didn’t matter that her mascara leaked onto my pillow or that I inhaled secondhand smoke from her hair when I nestled up against her shoulder.
All that mattered was the soft feel of her skin against mine, the sensation of safety and warmth when I heard the knob to my childhood bedroom slide open at three, four, five a.m. The whisper of three simple words – I love you – pressed against my ear and sealed with a kiss as light as a puff of air, made it all worth it.
I rubbed the corner of my eye, sinking into Anthony’s shoulder for a moment. A moment of weakness, but it was allowed. Though I was now a woman of thirty years, one old enough to have a family of her own, the pain of missing my mother never fully went away. It lessened, but it didn’t disappear.
And there were some moments that I couldn’t push the sadness away. This was one of those moments.
Anthony’s arms wrapped around me, his chin perched perfectly on the top of my head. “It’s okay, sugar.”
“I know,” I said, my voice heavy with tears. “I know.”
“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice floating away over my head and drifting into the night.
I nodded into his chest, feeling a small wet splotch blossom on his shirt beneath my cheek.
“I’m sorry, I got you all wet,” I said, pulling away.
“My shirt is yours for the taking anytime,” he remarked, his eyes reflecting a sadness that matched my own. What sadness did Anthony know?
I managed a watery grin. “Taking…off?”
Anthony gave a single shake of his head, as if exasperated.
“Sorry,” I said again. “I’m not good with the emotions business. Jokes are easier.”
“Believe me,” Anthony exhaled loudly. “I know.”
“You joke?” I asked, my fingers toying with the material of his shirt, just below where I’d left my watermark. “Since when?”
For a moment, Anthony’s mouth turned to a frown, but when he realized I was kidding, he broke into a grin. Sliding his arms down to my waist, he tickled me lightly until I squirmed in his arms. When it was too much, I gave as soft a shriek as possible and, nearly crying with laughter, pushed him away.
“No finger humps,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Anthony, still laughing, stopped with a hand halfway through his tousled hair.
“Er,” I said. “That’s what Meg calls tickling. Finger humps.”
Anthony’s eye roll was so large, I wondered for a moment if his irises would get stuck pointing into the back of his head. Thankfully, his beautiful brown eyes turned back to mine and softened, his mouth turning up in a gentle smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I am,” I said, meaning it. “Now, about this fireworks business.”
“Shall we?” Anthony asked, offering his arm. “It’s better if we pretend to be a couple. Nobody will expect two lovebirds out for a nightly stroll to be investigating a warehouse.”
I hooked my arm in his and we marched hand in hand from the parking garage, heading slowly down the sidewalk. Our eyes alternated between faking gooey eyes at one another and actively scanning the surrounding scene. Anthony was on high alert – though he held my hand loosely, his muscles were tense and his breathing shallow. But that didn’t stop him from looking into my eyes now and then.
We marched onward toward the warehouse, acting to beat the band. At least, I pretended to act. The glow in my cheeks and the warmth in my heart couldn’t be faked. I tried my best to pay attention to my surroundings, but there was only one question on my mind – was Anthony a world class actor, or was the look in his eyes real?
** **
“Ooh, he’s good,” I whispered to Anthony. I pointed to a man who appeared homeless, holding his hands over a fire burning brightly in a garbage bin. I gave Anthony the thumbs up, but he mostly looked confused.
“Good at what?” he asked.
“You said you had undercover men all up and down this block, right?” I nodded towards the man in a thick parka, which was little more than a dirty rag. “He is quite convincing.”
Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but I leaned into him, teasing. “Do you send all your men to acting classes now, as well?”
Anthony’s eyes tightened. “He’s not—”
“He’s a world class actor,” I said. “A-plus, boss.”
“What makes you think he’s one of my men?” Anthony asked.
“You mean, what gave it away?” I poked Anthony in the abs. Most people would’ve squirmed or shrunk away. At best, they’d give a little Pillsbury-dough-boy-esque giggle at my touch. Anthony, however, didn’t even flinch, while I wondered if my finger was broken.
“Sure,” Anthony said. “Humor me.”
“Honestly, he’s doing a fantastic job pretending,” I said, surveying the man in the homeless garb. I gave him the thumbs up as we passed. Anthony nearly choked on his own saliva.
The man returned the thumbs up, and I smiled back at Anthony. “First of all, he should never break character, not even if they see me walking with the boss.” I gave his arm a pat, this time a lighter one. My fingers couldn’t bear any more jabs.
“But—”
“Second of all, and this one is most important: I knew he was yours immediately. You know why?”
“Humor me. Again.” Anthony stared at the man as we passed him.
Cheerfully, I laced my arm through his. “Because this is your assignment. You always do things perfectly, and y
ou’d never leave something to chance. A real homeless person is a wild card,” I said proudly. “A planted homeless person is an asset. Plus, he’s been building that fire since we arrived.”
Anthony’s face was a wall of seriousness.
Tugging his arm, I peered up. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings by picking apart your operation,” I said. “I just wanted to help. See? Maybe I’m getting better at this mobsterista business.”
Anthony made a noise in his throat. “Too smart for your own good, I’d argue.”
For some reason, the bittersweet compliment made me grin. “Hang on one sec, will you?”
“Lacey—” Anthony called after me, but I had already darted away.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, walking up to one of Anthony’s men dressed as a homeless person. “I just wanted to let you know you’re doing a great job. Just – two quick things. One, don’t ever break character,” I said, leaning in. “Even for the boss.”
The man looked up at me, his face dirty and ragged, his mouth cracked partway open.
“I know he can be a bit scary at times,” I said, leaning a little bit away. The overwhelming smell of homelessness was all too real. I waved a hand in front of my face. “Did you buy that scent? Yeesh. You’re burning my nose hairs.”
The man simply cackled and continued to roast his hands over the fire.
“See? This is what I’m talking about,” I said. “Staying in character no matter what. But the second thing is that I think you went a bit overboard on the costume. It’s so believable, it’s unbelievable. I mean the detail…” I peered closer at the streaks of dirt and grime across his face. “That looks like weeks of buildup. Honestly, I’m impressed.”
“Lacey,” Anthony said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away. “Enough.”
“Fine, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll stop harassing your men. It was a compliment, really. Tell him to lighten the cologne next time.”
“He wasn’t one of mine,” Anthony said.
My mind was still pleasantly processing his words for a good amount of time after they left his mouth. I didn’t quite understand, until…“What?”
“He’s not – he’s not one of mine,” Anthony said.
“You mean…” I looked back at the man, who continued to laugh to himself and cook his hands over the glowing orange light. “Why didn’t you stop me? I’ve completely embarrassed myself.” I turned away from Anthony, letting his arm drop. “I have to go apologize.”
“What? No! Lacey, that’s enough,” Anthony nodded towards the man. “I don’t think he’s complaining. Most men don’t complain when a girl as pretty as you stops to chat with them.”
His words made my cheeks grow hot as asphalt in the desert. I played his words over again in my head a few times, reminiscing about the idea that Anthony thought I was pretty. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear his next sentence. I didn’t hear it the first time, or the second time, but when he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it before speaking the third time, I paid attention.
“Wha – uh, what?” I asked, shaking my head to clear any frivolous cobwebs away. “What did you say?”
“I said, for the third time, that I have something to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” I said, a bit puzzled. Anthony was a man of few words, and he didn’t usually ask permission before speaking. “I’m listening.”
“About the warehouse,” Anthony said. “It’s not – it’s not exactly…” He glanced behind him. “It’s not what it looks—”
“Sir?” A voice spoke from a dark, hidden alley as Anthony and I passed the mouth of it.
Anthony shielded his eyes from the street light with one hand, the other immediately at his waist and ready to retrieve a gun.
But when a man I recognized – for sure, this time – as one of Anthony’s emerged with his hands held high, Anthony relaxed. “What is it, Fede?”
“It’s uh,” Federico looked in my direction. “It’s confidential.”
“She’s okay,” Anthony said. “I trust her.”
I leaned in a little closer to him, but then immediately chastised myself. Give him room to work, Lacey! I told myself. Don’t mix business and play.
It was difficult, but I pulled myself into a stiff posture and stepped away from Anthony. I tried my best to look professional, though I didn’t exactly feel at the top of my game after mistaking a homeless person for one of Anthony’s highly trained guards. Still, the thought niggled at my brain. Why had the man been there if he wasn’t planted? He was much too close to the warehouse for Anthony’s liking, especially during an investigation. Anthony didn’t leave things to chance. He didn’t appreciate wild cards.
“Sir, it’s something yet unreported,” Fede said.
“Unreported?” Anthony raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t in regards to the warehouse?”
With his lips clamped tightly shut, Fede glanced at me and gave a single, abrupt shake of his head.
“What is it?” Anthony’s voice hardened. “What is this in regards to?”
“You’re aware of the issue,” Fede said. “But this is a new development. An urgent one.”
“Firearms?” Anthony asked.
It was clear the two men were dancing around an issue that neither was entirely sure they wanted me to hear. The gun in Anthony’s cup holder flashed into my mind, and I put two and two together.
“I can give you space,” I said, wryly turning with a half-smile. “I’ll just go hang out with my friend, over there. Not very chatty, but maybe he’ll share his bonfire.”
I started moving away and realized I was annoyed – partially at myself, and partially at Anthony. I wanted to give him space and let him do his job in peace, but I was also supposed to be working on this case. Anthony should be letting me help. Logically, I knew that just because Anthony and I were friendly outside of Family business, I shouldn’t let the relationship affect his job. His job was a matter of life or death, and he shouldn’t have a weakness. He shouldn’t make exceptions – not even for me. Still, the rejection stung.
I knew he’d sent me away, not because he didn’t trust me, but simply because it was a matter that didn’t involve me. Maybe I shouldn’t have responded so snarkily, but I couldn’t change it now. Besides, despite Anthony’s stoic expression at my retort, a portion of the hardness in his eyes had crumbled when I walked away. I didn’t like to see Anthony hurt or conflicted because of me, but I did like to know that he cared.
“Lacey,” Anthony called after me, jogging quickly to catch up. “Wait.”
I was halfway towards our mutual friend – or rather, non-mutual homeless friend – by the time Anthony clasped my wrist. Like the professional he was, Fede stood at attention and looked in the other direction, but not before I caught him sneaking a confused glance towards us.
I looked down and slowed to a complete stop. Without raising my eyes, I tried for a joke. “Are you out of personal words for tonight? Business only, now?” I was trying to show him that I was sorry for being sassy earlier, but it didn’t work. When I found his eyes, I saw a conflict there that I’d never seen before.
“Lace, I’m sorry,” Anthony said.
“For what?” I shrugged. “You have nothing to apologize for. You have every right to do your job, and I shouldn’t make you feel bad about it.”
“It’s not that.” Anthony looked over his shoulder. Fede dutifully maintained his misdirected line of sight, but clearly neither Anthony nor I felt comfortable showing there was any sort of affection or friendship between us in public. Not when other family members were around.
“What is it, then?” I asked, my voice lilting with curiosity. “You can have as much time as you need to talk with Fede.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need time to talk. We have had a development come up that needs immediate attention.”
“More immediate than a bomb slotted to go off tomorrow? There could be human casualties!” My jaw opened
in disbelief.
“I can’t give you any information about it.”
“You already have,” I pointed out. “I saw the gun in your cup holder. You mentioned a firearms issue. No, I don’t know the exact details, but I’d imagine someone’s got their hands on a bunch of illegal guns in the Cities. And I’m guessing you’re involved because they’re distributing them to the underworld. Or other families. Or someone that puts the Luzzis in danger. Am I right?”
Anthony didn’t respond, which signaled to me that I was close enough to not need correcting.
“How is that more pressing than a bomb?” I asked.
Anthony looked down. “About the bomb…”
“What is it, Anthony?” I asked as my voice suddenly became more forceful; it cracked as I took another step away from him. “Why won’t you work with me on this assignment? Am I so terrible to work with?”
“No, Lacey. The bomb isn’t at the warehouse.” It appeared as if Anthony had blurted out the sentence by the way his eyes widened in surprise, and his hand twitched upwards, almost as if wanting to cover his mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean it like, then?” I hurled the question at him, the smallest tinge of ice to my voice. I’d already forgotten that I’d upset him once today, with my comment about being Family. Now, my blood chilled as I waited for him to remind me of my incompetence. Or for him to tell me that girls don’t belong in his field. Or to…
“We thought the bomb was here,” Anthony said, clearing his throat as if stalling, thinking hard and grasping at what he wanted to say, “but when I got the call while we were upstairs, when my watch blinked, the text in Italian said that the warehouse was the wrong place. The rumors were wrong.”
“What? I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “Why are we still here?”
Anthony hesitated. “Walk with me.”
“Talk to me, Anthony,” I said. “I feel like I’m being played and I don’t like that. Just tell me the truth.”
“I’d prefer to discuss it in private,” he said.
“Why?” I asked. I knew I was being petty. I knew I was making things difficult for Anthony. Still, the words couldn’t be stopped. “Aren’t you out of personal words yet? It seems like you’re all business, now.”
