Page 56 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abby averted her gaze and adjusted in her seat once more. “Extenuating circumstances.”

Ryoma laughed. He enjoyed teasing her and watching her battle with herself, but the truth was, he wasn’t so generous as to put on that kind of show where it would be recorded for multiple eyes to see. Eyes attached to men he would never be allowed to kill. Fucking her and helping her chase an unexpected thrill in front of a man at the end of his life was one thing, but an audience that would continue living? Continue remembering the way she looked, the way she sounded, when she came apart for him?Never.

“Speaking of … him,” Abby said after another minute, her voice quieter, “when do we go back there? No one else hasdealtwith him or anything, right?”

Ryoma pulled himself together obligingly. “Hopefully we can make a little time tomorrow,” he said. “That’ll depend on how our day goes. If we can’t, someone will be sent to check on him, shove some water into his system and deal with other unpleasant things. Keep him alive.” He waited until her eyes were focused on him again, that beautiful, brilliant blue shining in defiance of the evening hour and artificial lighting. “No one’s going to take his death from you, Abby. You might have to wait a day or two for it, but it’s yours.”

He watched her expression carefully as his words hung in the air, looking for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty. She’d acted in the heat of the moment. She hadn’t been prepared to encounter a man from such a traumatic part of her past at all, let alone at the tail end of another emotionally charged event. Most of the day had since passed, and while it had been a dramatic one, her subconscious would have had time to process everything that had happened involving Corey Wells. Therewas always a chance, however small, that she had changed her mind.

Abby exhaled slowly and nodded. Her expression softened, as if relaxing. “Okay. I can live with that. As long as you’ll be coming with me when I go back.”

Ryoma leaned back in his seat. “Of course I’ll be with you, baby girl. That’s non-negotiable.”

She smiled, and his insides twisted. She had a beautiful smile.

It was late, dark, and tolerably cooler as Ryoma brought the SUV to a stop and cut the engine. Abigail spotted two more SUVs, already parked, in semi-staggered positions and all angled to face the driveway of the home where she presumed they expected to find Rodrigo Silva.

I’ve lost my mind.She knew it was crazy idea when she’d proposed it, but at the same time, part of her had recognized that they needed to step up their tactics if they wanted to see results. And if she was going to be pretending to still be a real federal agent, she might as well embrace the power of the badge a bit. But now that the moment was upon them, Abigail couldn’t help but see how bad this could go. Not that any raid couldn’t go bad a dozen different ways.

“You good, baby girl?” Ryoma asked, moving his hand to her thigh and squeezing gently. They were alone in the SUV for the moment, but they both knew she needed to get moving.

Still, Abigail gave herself a second to draw from the warm comfort of his touch. Part of her knew it was selfish, but she needed it. “Yeah,” she said. She let her seatbelt slide away and lifted his hand to hold it tightly between her own. “Keep watch for me.”

He leaned over, caught her by the jaw, and covered her lips with his in a brief, shockingly chaste kiss. “I can see the entire path from here to the front door,” he said as he retreated. “If this goes south, my team swoops in and extracts your sexy ass.”

Her lips twitched. The original idea had been a maximum of two men, but it hadn’t taken long for them to see where Silva might feel he could handle such a small group. So they were taking advantage of the darkness—and some questionably acquired vehicular modifications she was choosing to overlook—to provide a larger support team. The support team would keep a distance and be a silently imposing presence. A wordless discouragement for the idea of resistance, and an unspoken promise of reinforcement for her side. In theory.

Abigail swallowed a sigh and popped open her door. “See you at the safehouse.” They’d be playing SUV-hop once Silva was in custody, but that was all pre-arranged. Everyone knew who would go where.

He watched her step from the SUV, but his voice didn’t whisper in her ear until she’d fully crossed the street. “Don’t get shot,sakurasou.”

She smiled despite herself. She’d never experienced the warm, giddy feeling he elicited in her. It was silly, but she liked it.

“This is definitely not how I thought we’d meet again,” an almost awkward, but somehow friendly voice said as another presence drew Abigail’s attention outward.

Abigail refocused and found herself barely arm’s reach from the man who’d picked her and Ryoma up from the hotel that fateful morning, as well as another man she was certain she didn’t know. And suddenly she understood why the name Benny had sounded familiar. Both males were dressed in classic black suits, as per her request. Benny wore an off-white shirt underneath and a dark green tie. The other man wore a deep blue shirt beneath and no tie. It was imperfect, but in reality, even the FBI didn’t always present perfection. She was a great example, in wrinkled dress pants and a blouse, no blazer in sight.

The male she didn’t know was already scowling. “You really a damn fed?”

Abigail smiled. “Take it up with your boss.” She looked between them and let her expression harden. “All you need to do is stand behind me and look serious. Like you mean business. If Silva recognizes you from somewhere and calls you on it, we’ve been undercover and it’s not his business.” She tipped her head toward the walkway up ahead. “If you’re ready?”

Benny drew a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

The other one grunted. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t at all surprised by the lack of enthusiasm. As long as they didn’t turn on her or derail the plan, she didn’tcare how they felt about the situation, either. So she stepped forward and took the lead, falling with practiced ease into the power stride she had made an effort to cultivate during her college years. Chin up, eyes forward, arms at her sides and strides long but not unbalancing. As she climbed the small set of wide stone steps, she dipped a hand into her pocket and extracted her identification. The one Cristiano had nearly crumpled.

She paused at the door and glanced to the men on the stoop behind her. “One of you has the cuffs?”

Benny inclined his head and tapped his coat.

Abigail nodded, faced forward, and pressed the doorbell button. No need to do the cliché cop knock on a cop’s door, after all. It only took a few seconds before she spotted movement shuffling behind the warped crystal side window and Abigail found herself biting back a smile. She remembered how much of an asshole Rodrigo Silva had been in front of the pastry shop while his friend had been manhandling her, presumably an innocent civilian female. She couldn’t deny she was going to enjoy this.

The door was pulled halfway open in a sharp swing and their target, Rodrigo Silva, glared out at them. “What’s—” His gaze immediately focused in on Abigail. “You. What the hell is this? What are you doing coming to my house, and so damn late at night?” He seemed to visibly bristle, his T-shirt covered shoulders rising with an intake of breath. “I should have you arrested for harassment.”

Abigail let her lips lift just a bit. “Oh, we’ll get to what you should and shouldn’t do, Silva. But it’s funny you ledwith that.” She raised her hand and flipped the badge open, letting his brightly burning porch light illuminate the bold, unmistakable lettering. “I’m Special Agent Abigail Fitzgerald, and I’m placing you under arrest. Effective immediately. Keep your hands where we can see them.”

Silva was already sputtering. “Wha-what the hell? This is some kind of joke!” He turned away from the door, reaching for something out of sight.

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