Page 48 of Consumed By the Mafia

“Just sent it,” Ryoma said, waving his phone at her and flashing another grin. “I know what I’m doing.” He hauled the limp figure next to him up, over his shoulder, and started down the stairs. It seemed he’d also rendered the male unconscious while she’d been preoccupied.

Abigail gave herself a shake and quickly nudged the flashlight out of his way. “Does Mrs. Mikey listen in often? ‘Cause there was definitely a woman on the line this time.”

Ryoma chuckled. “Mrs. Mikeyis turning out to be quite the busy-body. So yeah, she sits in on his calls pretty often.” He dumped the other male against a wall, away from anything useful. “Though to be fair, all the De Salvo couples are basically glued at the hip.” He straightened, half facing her, and his expression dropped into a scowl as he pulled his phone again from his pocket. His thumb moved across the screen and he said, “There a problem?”

Abigail felt her own lips curve into a frown. How was holding a man hogtied, still bleeding, and standing in a home they’d had to break into not already a problem? It was killing her nerves. She hated to think what an actual problem could be in their minds.

Mikey’s agitated voice came through the speaker of the phone immediately, his tone sharper than it had been a minute earlier. “That motherfucker you just grabbed is the one who delivered my wife to Gustavo Ramires last month. Brandi never got his name, but she recognized his face.”

Abigail’s eyes blew wide.What?Was he saying their unconscious assailant hadkidnappedBrandi De Salvo—and gotten away?

Ryoma muttered a curse. “What do you need me to do?”

Mikey blew out a hard breath. “The interrogation still matters. But I’m only giving you a head start.”

Ryoma lowered the phone on a long exhale, the call apparently done. He met her stare. “Looks like you’re getting a real thorough introduction,sakurasou.”

She wasn’t even sure what to say to that, and in the beat where she attempted to gather a response, her gaze finally zeroed in on a patch of red slowly darkening one of his arms. The arm she hadn’t been able to see from her previous angle. “You’re hurt!”

He blinked at her before turning his head to look down at his own arm. “It’s no big deal.”

Abigail frowned. She caught herself as an angrier-than-necessary protest built in her throat and choked it down, at least enough to contain the decibels. “The hell it isn’t.” He’d been shot because he’d chosen to protect her. She wasn’t an idiot. She pointed to the nearest piece of furniture. “Sit down while I go scrounge up whatever first-aid supplies that asshole kept on-hand.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ryoma argued. The twitch of his lips belied the point of his words.

She turned and began striding further into the unit. “Sit. Down!” It was bad enough he’d been shot because of her. It was bad enough he’d been dragged into her personal vendetta. It was bad enough her mismanagement of her own situation had put him in a difficult position with his superiors.

I shouldn’t even be thinking like that.Yet she was, and she wasn’t sure when it had happened.

For that matter, since when did she have a vendetta?

Abigail aggressively flicked on the bathroom light and went straight for the medicine cabinet. She’d never thought ofherself that way. She’d always thought what she wanted was simple, rational, and straightforward. Fair. But she hadn’t hesitated to pull her gun when she’d recognized Corey Wells in that parking lot. She hadn’t argued with taking him in, and she would probably have shot him there in front of potential witnesses if she couldn’t have taken him with her. That wasn’t verygoodof her.

Worse, probably, had been the way she’d appreciated Ryoma’s response. His help. His unquestioning understanding. It felt like they were a team. Partners.

The breath hitched in her lungs and Abigail nearly fumbled the small box of off-brand bandages she’d extracted from the cabinet. She’d been lonely since moving to Newark, she could admit that to herself, but she couldn’t afford to think of Ryoma that way. Not when she knew that even if this new, messed up plan went perfectly, she was going to have to disappear when it was over. Whatever this thing was between them … it was temporary. It had to be.

Abby was barely finished wrapping his arm where the bullet had sliced through the skin when their ride showed up. Which was just as well, because their unnamed kidnapper-turned-assailant had started to stir, too, and Ryoma preferred doing his interrogations somewhere less comfortable. They all managedto get the man gagged and loaded, and the crew took off for whichever holding facility Mikey had probably deemed worthy of this particular fool.

The ride itself was tense and silent. Ryoma would rather Cris had come for them, but Cris was likely still busy dealing with the Marchesi cleanup. So he told himself to be grateful that these two at least actually did what they were told, instead of going off-script and forcing his hand.

They got the Ink Blot secured in the designated torture room, wrists and ankles bound by chain, and the two Mikey had sent stepped back. “Mr. De Salvo says you have until sundown to get information from him,” the older of the pair said. “He also said if you kill him, you pay his debt.”

Ryoma grunted. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of the De Salvo temper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The man inclined his head and turned, not sticking around for the rest. Neither he nor his companion spared a single word for Abby. Ryoma supposed that was better than the alternative.

Abby pushed away from the wall where she’d held back, watching without interrupting. “Why do I get the feeling we’re in over our heads?”

Ryoma flashed her a grin. “Because you’re out of your element. Don’t worry, baby girl. I know how to pry without killing a man.” He pulled out his phone and set a timer, to make sure he wasn’t mid-question when Mikey showed up. “We’ve got a few hours to play with. You don’t have to watch if you don’t want, but if you’re really committed to this plan,I’d recommend you stay. Don’t give anyone room to question you.”

Abby’s gaze flicked to the slumped figure on the floor. “I assume I’m not getting to interrogate him first because of his history with the De Salvos?”

“You assume correctly. I’ll try to let you have the next one.”

Her expression shifted, like she was struggling to hide a smile. “I can’t argue that, I guess. I’ll play second.”

Ryoma arched a brow. “Come again?”

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