Page 28 of Luca

Before I can utter another word, a man in an expensive navy suit walks through the door, his gaze zeroing in on the two of us in the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

Giada stands, and I follow suit when the man walks over to us, holding out his hand. “Giada, what are you doing here?” he asks.

“Thank God you’re here, Mr. Dratch. I want to see my father and the unhelpful officer”—she says loud enough for him to hear—“won’t let me through.”

Officer White rolls his eyes but doesn’t take them off the computer screen.

“Your father doesn’t want visitors, Giada. I figured Carlo would have told you that.”

As if she told her brother what she was doing.

“I wanted to at least try. I need to speak to him.” She conveniently leaves out the fact she most likely didn’t discuss this little outing with Carlo.

“He won’t see you. He’s only allowing counsel. I’m sorry.”

If I wasn’t watching Giada as closely as I am, I would have missed the slight slump in her posture at his words. It’s minuscule, but I know it means she’s realizing she won’t get her way.

“Will you tell him I was here, and I’d like to speak to him, please?”

“Of course. I know this is stressful for everyone. Why don’t you go home and take a nice bath or get a manicure. I’m sure that would relax you, sweetheart.”

Giada’s lips thin into a straight line. “Thank you for your concern about my grooming habits, Mr. Dratch. I’ll take that under advisement.” She spins on her heels and marches to the door, roughly pushing it open. The clueless lawyer catches my eye and rolls his before turning toward the front desk and speaking to Officer White.

Following Giada outside, I spot her walking toward our car, her hands clenched into fists then releasing over and over. I make it to her before she crosses the street.

“That fucking prick,” she grits out through her hard-set jaw.

“Officer White or Mr. Dratch?” I ask, unlocking the door with the fob in my hand before opening it for her.

“Both.” She sits in the car and jerkily grabs the seat belt, tugging it across her chest.

When I walk around the hood, I see her through the windshield having a very angry, one-sided conversation with herself. Opening the driver’s side door, the last word I hear is asshole.

“Home?” I ask, starting the luxury sedan.

“I have a better idea.” She slides her sunglasses over her angry eyes. “I need a bar and a jukebox.”

I should insist on going home. It would be the sensible thing to do. But all Giada is going to do there is stew and scheme. Her brother needs me to keep her out of his hair, and there’s a part of me that feels bad for the girl. Her father and brother are the assholes. Giada was just born into the wrong family.

“I know just the place.”

Chapter nine

Luca

Thirty minutes later, we pull up to a hole-in-the-wall bar in a small town outside of Boston. It’s where Finn and I would occasionally meet when he wanted a face to face. I think he liked to remind me in person that I have family and I’m not completely alone even though I’m essentially in enemy territory playing the part of a heartless criminal. Finn has made it clear on more than one occasion that if it gets to be too much, I can leave at any time, but doing this, bringing down the man who ordered my parents’ murder, hell, wanted me dead, too, is the driving force that keeps me going back to that house every day. Just because Francesco’s in jail doesn’t mean my work is done. Finn wants Carlo gone. He wants the Cataldis to be a cautionary tale of what happens when you fuck with the Monaghans. That’s what keeps me firm in my resolve to see this through.

“This place looks…interesting,” Giada says, peering at the red brick building I’ve parked across the street from. “Is this the part where you make sure I go missing for being a pain in the ass? If so, you’ve picked a good spot where no one will care about a woman screaming her head off.”

The bar sits in the middle of a commercial building. For Sale signs that have been there since the first time I met Finn here sit in the windows of the businesses on either side.

“Don’t be a snob. The place has a good music selection and cold beer. And no one here will give a shit that they saw your father’s face all over the news this morning.” The story has been on every local news station today, and no doubt a few national ones too.

Giada lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I suppose my family is going to be the talk of Boston for some time.”

I nod in agreement. “Most likely. But not here.” I jerk my head toward the building. “Come on.”

Giada gives me a small, nearly imperceptible smile and nods, opening her door and climbing out of the car.

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