Page 55 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abby sat up straighter. “Since you said someone else is going to be wrangling in Cezar Barros—”

Ryoma ground his teeth at the reminder. He understood why Cris wanted to be part of the grab team, considering the way Barros had treated Felicity. But he hated having been told to sit it out. Even if itwasimportant that they split their forces.

Abby kept talking. “Why don’t we go after Silva?”

Her simple, outrageous question hung in the air for a full five seconds while Ryoma worked to process the words.

He stared at her, genuinely stunned. “Do what now?”

She grinned, the expression downright predatory. “To be precise, I’m suggestingItake Rodrigo Silva into custody. Of course, I’ll have to take him to an undisclosed, secure location—I assume you have one of those that’s a little less obviously designed for torture? Like the safehouse.”

Ryoma still felt like he was playing catch-up. “More than one,” he said, distracted. “You want to apprehend the fucking chief of police? How does that not make all this more complicated?” He began gesticulating, arms sweeping outward. “Wouldn’t that reveal to your bosses at the FBI that you’ve turned?” To say nothing for how it would expose her position with theFBI to the police.

Her expression didn’t waver and she sat forward again. Something almost like eagerness emanated from her. “That’s the thing. Special Agent Albertwantsme to be looking closer at Silva, anyway. He’s never liked Silva.” She reached over and lifted her phone from where it rested on the table. “Plus, I have that handy picture of the chief of police blatantly ignoring assault on me. Add that to the information from Rush and the guy you caught in front of that bookstore, and we have a series of connections between Irish mob and dirty cops that tie back to those two men.”

Ryoma nodded slowly. “Right…” Miguel had confirmed while they ate that the bookstore bastard was singing like a damn canary, which was useful. Especially since Romeo was the one who’d been stuck running lead on that interrogation and Romeo wasn’t known for his patience with that particular role.

So, in the sense that they had a couple of thin trails to draw connections between the men, Abby wasn’t wrong. Still, her suggestion felt like a leap.

“I know you think it’s too much, too fast,” she said, as if reading his mind. “That’s why it has to be me, and not one of you.”

“I don’t follow. Where’s the difference?”

“You promised I could take a shot at interrogating someone my way, remember?” She barely paused. “I have enough to justify dragging him in for questioning, but it would have to be discreet. Or I’d just straight-up arrest him for misconduct and blow my cover. But that would blow our deal. If I find him, maybe with a guy or two of yours who he’s not likely torecognize, I can drag him away and lock him down. Obviously at that point things get less legal, but what matters is that any witnesses would see someone with a real FBI badge swooping in on a slimeball cop. When my boss inevitably hears about it, I have something I can point to as an explanation.”

Ryoma forced himself to think it over. It did sound crazy. But crazy wasn’t always the wrong move.

Sometimes crazy was exactly the right move.

“Besides,” Abby continued after a moment, “I had the distinct impression Coughlan wasn’t likely to be the only arrest who ends up not making it to sentencing. So it’s more important we get information we can use from Silva than information we can useagainsthim.”

Ryoma chuckled. “It’s probably true Silva would be in the ground before long, no matter how this shakes out.” Rodrigo Silva hadn’t just betrayed the family, he’d betrayed them to the remnants of a group that had spilled literal De Salvo blood decades prior. He’d chosen the wrong side in a blood feud. Ryoma himself hadn’t been around during the original war between the groups—hell, he’d still been living in Japan—but he’d learned the story.

It was the reason Cris had sympathized so well with his own loss, different though their stories were.

“So,” Abby pushed, “what do you say? Do you think you can find me a decent, secure location and a couple of cooperative guys who aren’t allergic to suits?”

Ryoma blew out a breath.She’s right, this is crazy.He felt himself grinning again. “You know you’re not gettin’ away from me that easy.”

Abby smiled almost sweetly. “I expect you to be just out of sight, unless you decide to be waiting at the safehouse location.”

Miguel leaned into the room, his brow pinched in agitation. “If you’re done eating, can yougo? You’re cleaned up, right?”

Ryoma rolled his eyes. “Make yourself useful. I need two stand-ins who actually follow orders and own suits. No facial tats. All they have to do is look grumpy and play along with a script for an hour or so, small chance it all goes sideways and they’ll need their guns.”

“That’s definitely not preferred,” Abby cut in quickly.

Miguel looked between them. “I’m a shit actor, so count me out.”

Ryoma laughed. “I know. Get me options. We’re working on a plan so we can get out of your hair.”

Miguel sighed dramatically, pushed off the doorframe, and said, “Fine. I’ll make a couple calls. In the meantime, for the love of fucking god, remember there are cameras in there.” He walked away without waiting for a response.

Ryoma shifted his focus back to Abby in time to see her pretty face flare red at the implication. He leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “Wouldn’t be the first time we gave a show.”

Somehow, her flush brightened. “Not happening. That was—I’ve never—”

“You fucking loved it, don’t lie.” Ryoma licked his lips at the memory.

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