Page 59 of Consumed By the Mafia

What…?Her brain was foggy with lust that still burned through her system. Her body ached with need.

He guided her legs off his hips and helped her find her feet, not fully letting go until she was steady. Then he leaned in and whispered against her ear, “This is your punishment. You don’t get to come yet.”

“Punishment?” Abigail frowned at him. She sucked in a long, brain-clearing breath, and the memory resurfaced. Hours earlier he had threatened her with some unspecified punishment after she’d put those zip-ties in her mouth. She’d completely forgotten.

Ryoma smirked. “I’m a man of my word, baby girl.”

Someone knocked on the interior door and a voice called from the other side. “Ryoma, quit foolin’ around!”

Ryoma rolled his eyes and turned enough not to be shouting in her face. “Don’t bark at me. I’ll be right there.”

Abigail brought her hands to her face. She could feel her cheeks were still warm. Surely, she was flushed.How embarrassing.But then, most of those men were going to assume they’d just full-on fucked. She honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.

Ryoma pressed a kiss to her head and pulled one of her hands into his. “C’mon. You’ve got a prisoner to interrogate.”

His words helped ground her and Abigail let him lead them to the door. She did, and she needed to scramble a little nowthat he’d gone and revealed the De Salvo family’s involvement. That definitely blew her original intention out of the water.

“We got Chief Asshole settled like you asked,” the man who’d played third with her and Benny said, speaking to Ryoma.

Abigail chewed the inside of her lip for a beat, her gaze drifting momentarily in the direction he’d indicated. Maybe Ryoma’s interjectiondidn’tthoroughly derail her plan. Maybe it just changed the scenery.I need to work on my metaphors.She gave herself a shake and waited a moment to be sure she wasn’t interrupting before she spoke. “I have a thought.”

Both men shifted their attention to her, and to her surprise, she saw no distrustful scowls or barely restrained glares. Ryoma, of course, looked mostly amused. “Last time you said something like that, it was followed with suggesting we arrest the chief of police.”

She arched a brow at him. “And look where we are.”

He chuckled. “So?”

Abigail settled her expression. “Obviously Silva’s figured out there’s some De Salvo involvement in this ‘arrest’ now.”

“Don’t expect me to apologize for that,” Ryoma said.

She elbowed him lightly and continued. “I was thinking we play into it, actually.”

The man whose name she still needed to learn finally scowled. “What’s that mean?”

Abigail glanced between him and Ryoma, who nodded silently, and said, “Silva himself was until recently one of the family’s connections to law enforcement, right? So he understands, personally, that the De Salvos have that sort of power. He’d be a fool to think he was the only one, or the highest end of that ladder.” She saw realization start to dawn on Ryoma’s face, but she kept going. “Iama real FBI agent, anyway, so what if we just play that up a little more than it is? Silva betrayed the De Salvos, so the De Salvos turned to their federal connection to smack him down and deal with this Irish problem once and for all. It has to be plausible to him.”

“Fuck.” The guy facing them scrubbed at his jaw and met Ryoma’s gaze. “Not my call, anyway, but what do you think?”

“I think she’s got a point,” Ryoma said. “But I will admit I have a bias.” He jerked his chin outward in that ingrained nod motion only men did. “I’ll go in with her, you let the team know the game plan and call it in up the chain. If there’s a problem, signal me.” As he spoke, Ryoma dug his earpiece from his pocket and popped it back into his ear.

Abigail took his cue and did the same before leading the way to the previously indicated room. It was easy enough to find, since another man was standing guard by the door.

The guy ignored her and nodded to Ryoma before stepping aside.

Abigail told herself not to take it personally, allowed her overprotective maybe-for-real-boyfriend to pull open the door, and entered the room. The room itself had been set up to nicely mimic an interrogation room, at least like what might normally be portrayed on most cop shows. It was spacious enough that there was plenty of room to walk around the rectangular table, which had three chairs. One of those was occupied by Rodrigo Silva, who had been chained to the floor and his cuffs anchored to the table.

Abigail took oneseat and Ryoma settled into the other, both of them lowering into their chairs simultaneously.

Silva glared at them in turn, his lips curling. “This is so goddamn illegal,” he said. “I’ll have your assesfriedfor this.”

Ryoma whistled. “That really would be a feat, seein’ as how New Jersey doesn’thavea death penalty.”

Silva banged his manacled fists on the table. “What do you know?”

“Give me a little credit,” Ryoma said, his grin becoming menacing. “I studied my modern American history. Plus, I think any man who seriously takes up this kind of life makes it a point to know what potential penalties he’s facing.”

When Silva opened his mouth again, hatred darkening his brown eyes, Abigail made a point of talking over him. “I could chime in,” she said. “If we’re really arguing over which states do and don’t have death penalties. Although I think anyone as high up the law enforcement ladder as police chief actually knows the answer for his own jurisdiction.”

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