Page 21 of Married to the Mafia

Mikey cursed. “This is what I needed to know when I asked if you needed a doctor.”

“No self-respecting doctor would have stitched me up by then.”

Mikey grunted. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Brandi mulled the question over. “No?”

“I’m sending someone up with a medical kit.”

“I have to shower!”

“Then text me when you’re out.” He disconnected before she could argue.

Frustrated, flustered, and desperately needing the bathroom, Brandi dropped the phone and made her way to the attached bathroom. The other reason she’d chosen this specific bedroom was because it was the only other one on that level, on that wing, with an ensuite. If she was going to be the lady of the house, she was at least going to get her own private suite.

seven

Progress

“I’m sorry, sir,” Alessa said. “Neither of us saw a sign of anyone all night.”

Mikey drummed his fingers impatiently over the arm of his chair. He’d already gotten as much from Ryoma, but he did appreciate that Alessa had at least pulled herself together enough to report in person. Not that the answer made him any happier. He’d gone to the trouble of getting permission to send two of their aces essentially undercover for the entire night in Brandi’s condo, hoping to catch her assailant at his next attempted assault. A decent plan that had failed miserably. “And the security system?”

Alessa set the recorder Mikey had sent her out with the previous day back onto his desk. “As far as I can tell, it was undisturbed. All the data should be there.”

Mikey snatched it up and twirled the object between his fingers. If he was a little lucky, maybe he’d at least get some back-data. He’d have to be careful, though. If the man was skilled enough to bypass Brandi’s home system, he might possibly have left something behind to cover his tracks. “Keep your eyes peeled for anyone who matches that description while you’re out. Now go catch some sleep.”

Alessa nodded and turned on her heel. She was pretty much the same age as he was, and like him, she’d grown up in this life. She knew not to let a single night’s poor sleep show on her face. It was for that reason that Mikey knew the exhaustion still visible around her eyes had little to do with the late-night assignment and a lot to do with the grief the entire family knew she was doing a poor job of handling. He could hardly blame her. He didn’t know how he’d handle losing a brother.

Mikey dropped his gaze back to the object in his hand, released a breath, and picked up his phone. He had an afternoon meeting to consider, so it was best to dive into the data sooner than later. He locked down his office as he stepped out and projected his voice to Miguel. “Downstairs.”

Miguel let out an unprofessional sigh. “Aye, Captain.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and paused at Berto’s desk. “I’m unavailable for a bit. Reach me on my cell if something comes up.” Berto could handle anything that wouldn’t come directly to him until this was done.

Berto turned a grin his way. “Can I call you ‘captain’, too?”

“Don’t push it.”

Mikey and Miguel piled into the elevator, and Mikey pressed his thumb to the scanner that provided access down to the basement level. The top three floors were his formal business, and while a lot of the family came and went through his doors on any given day, the business at its core was fully legal. He’d taken his inspiration from his brother. But the basement was different. The basement was the family’s digital headquarters. The basement was his goddamn pride and joy.

“Did you get the image I sent out yesterday?” Mikey asked as the elevator descended.

“’Course,” Miguel said. “Started it up on facial rec like you asked and everything.”

“Excellent. Our undercover team struck out, so let’s see if he showed up somewhere else last night.”

It was close to noon before Brandi worked up the nerve to check her email. She knew how to protect herself online, and she was confident that on Mikey’s home network any skill she brought to the table was little more than a cherry on a sundae. Nevertheless, some instinct she couldn’t name insisted she wasn’t going to like what she saw when she opened her inbox next. She made sure to have waited for a lull in the workflow—not overly difficult at the moment, since she hadn’t been handed a new project yet—and had set an easy snack within reach. If nothing else, she was done letting all this stress cost her meals.

Except she lost her appetite when her gaze zeroed in on an email she would ordinarily have dismissed as undisguised spam. From a sender merely labeled as RG, with an email address that couldn’t possibly be accurate, was an email with the daunting subject line “miss you, sweet B” and an icon indicative an attachment.

The nausea was instantaneous.

She wanted to delete the damn email without clicking on it. But she also wanted to know what the hell he was sending, in case she or her new family could use it against him. I can’t do that with what I have on me. With no better ideas, and seeing no other emails from that or any other suspicious senders, Brandi reached for her phone and dialed Mikey.

He answered after the second ring. “Everything okay?”

She hesitated for a beat. “Do you have cameras in here?”

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