Page 35 of Married to the Mafia

Mikey sat back in his seat. “Keep talking.”

“We have Ms. Richardson’s car,” the chief said, “but it’s been stripped and trashed. I’m not sure it’s not part of a crime scene now, though I am sure that would have occurred after she lost possession of it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Silva continued. “The more unusual part, I thought, was that we also found one of the men we believe to be responsible for the original carjacking and … well, I’ll be frank. He’s identified himself as a member of the Ink Blots.”

“Motherfucker.” Mikey shoved to his feet to pace off the sudden restless energy. And to take himself away from the expensive, fragile things within reach of his fist. “Ramires? Barros?” Rumor had it Barros might have been doing time in another part of the state for a parole violation, but they’d never been sure it was the same man. Ramires hadn’t shown his face in the city since the previous fall, though occasionally his name still came up in connection to the gang. Often enough that they were confident he was still connected and functioning.

“No, definitely not,” Silva said. “Just some punk looking for street cred. I thought it was random, honestly. Wrong place, wrong time. But the Blots and the De Salvos have been at war for a while now, so maybe it wasn’t so random after all.”

Mikey clenched his free hand into a tight fist. “What about the other two? Brandi said there were at least three hijackers.”

“We’ve only found the one.” Silva paused. “Is there … something in particular you’d like us to do with him?”

Mikey drew a long breath. “I want the whole crew and answers. So tell the one you have that we’ll let him stay in police custody and ride that out, if he rolls on the other two. Names, descriptions, best guesses on where we can find them. All of it. When you get that from him, you give that information to me. If he cooperates, that one’s yours. Have a field day. Brandi’s gonna be pissed about her car, too.”

“All right. I’ll let you know how that goes.” He disconnected immediately.

Mikey slammed his fist—phone in hand—into the wall. “Fuck!” The chief was probably right with his theory about her carjacking being random. The Ink Blots were a street gang, they fucked with a lot of people and did stupid ass shit. Like taking a nice car and easy money from a defenseless woman.

When it had happened, he’d tried telling himself he was mad at her for having gone to that area of town in the first place. Then everything with George had hit and he’d put the carjacking from his mind. But the truth was, he’d been furious—with the bastards who’d pulled a gun on someone he had already come to care for, who’d left her stranded and vulnerable and fucking scared. He just hadn’t had anything to do with that, or really known how to process it.

Someone tapped on his office door and Brandi poked her head in. “Um, everything okay? I’m not used to you scream-cursing.”

He grunted. “Shut the door.” Not that they had a house full of people who could eavesdrop. Life was just easier with fewer possibilities.

Brandi scooted inside and eased the door shut without argument.

Mikey raked his gaze over her while she moved. Fuck, they both had already realized how lucky she was that those gangsters hadn’t tried to take her with them. Or just tried to force her down right on the roadside. They’d been armed, they’d outnumbered her, and she hadn’t been prepared. But thinking about it all over again was making him as angry as it had the first time.

“You really look mad,” Brandi said. She stepped closer, her brow furrowed. “And you’re being weird. Seriously, Mikey, what’s wrong?” She reached down and worked his phone from his hand with nimble fingers. “Why don’t we set this down before you Hulk-smash it to smithereens, okay? Then we can sit on that sofa I’m still not convinced you don’t sleep on and have a calm conversation.”

He watched her set the phone on his desk, then let her take him by the hand and lead the way to the couch that he did, in fact, sleep on probably more often than anyone would be happy about. He expected her to settle a comfortable distance from him, somewhere within reach but without crowding.

She sat up against his side and pulled both his hands into her lap, as if she felt the need to hold him in place. The worry on her face made his chest hurt.

Mikey dragged in a breath. “The police found your car.”

Her eyes widened for a beat, before confusion dipped her brow. “And they called you?”

“They couldn’t reach you, so I guess when they saw where you work, they called me.”

She let out a breath. “Well, that works out, anyway.” She pursed her lips together. “Wait, do you own the police, too?”

His lips twitched with a bitter chuckle. “Only most of them.”

Brandi sighed and leaned her shoulder into his. “Because that’s normal.” She aimed a grin at him that had his blood heating. “Okay. So they found my car.”

Mikey held tighter to her hands. “It’s destroyed,” he said plainly. The disappointment that soured her face only reinforced his mood. “They also found one of the men responsible, so we might be able to get hands on the other two.” He paused for a second. “Are you familiar with the Ink Blots?”

She blinked at him. “The—the gang, right? I’ve heard the name. Is that the gang those jerks were with?”

Mikey nodded.

Confusion once again contorted her expression. “Don’t get me wrong, but what does that change? We already knew the guys who stole my car were gangsters, or at least presented like they were.”

“That’s where it gets complicated.” He’d actually hoped not to burden her with this at least until George was off the board. He supposed that had been naïve. “In street terms, the family is at war with the Ink Blots. Have been for a while now.”

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