Page 63 of Consumed By the Mafia

“I’m still working on proof,” she admitted, “but it’s come up. I can’t ignore it.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them organized,” Albert said, “but if we could squash them, that would be good for everyone.”

She bit back a smile. “Silva’s connected to it all. I know he is. I’ll get it out of him, sir.”

She thought she heard a chair creak. “Just don’t get us in more trouble than this is worth, Fitzgerald.” He paused. “Do you have a description of this Bren guy?”

“I have a photo.”

“Even better. Get it to me. And don’t forget to call Mercer.” He disconnected before she could respond.

Abigail sagged against the wall she didn’t even remember moving to, letting her arm and the phone drop to her side. It always felt like she’d walked into an exam room and realized she’d forgotten to study when she had to talk to him. Asensation that was, apparently, ten times worse now that she was effectively betraying the agency.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Romeo snapped. Despite the bite in his question, his tone was still somehow quiet, as if he didn’t want his voice to carry. He stepped forward again, but didn’t crowd her this time. “You promised him Marchesi now? Newsflash, Fitzgerald, we already have that fucking traitor. And he’s not in a condition to be going anywhere other than Hell.”

Abigail blinked up at him, rewinding her conversation with her boss in order to remember the part that Romeo was mad about.Oh. Right.She’d expected this. “He’s still alive?”

Romeo frowned.

She waved a hand. “That isn’t what I meant.” The realization of his implication had surprised her, and her brain was tired. “I should have said, I don’t actually expect to hand him over to the FBI. I’m setting up a story of him having been lying to me and getting caught, so we can let him dying be blamed on the Irish or the Blots or something, claim he was punished for his failure.” She let her arm fall. “I just need a temporary justification. That’s why I mentioned him.”

Romeo didn’t look convinced.

Ryoma angled around his boss. “It’s been a long day, sir. I think we all know we have to take some risks and ruffle feathers if we want to lure Coughlan into a vulnerable position. But risk is uncomfortable. The way I see it, that’s where we are.”

“Risk.” Romeo repeated the word as if it were sour. He narrowed his eyes at Ryoma. “You already belong to us, so what exactly are you risking? Another name?”

Abigail saw Ryoma’s hands flinch at his sides before curling into fists and she blacked out. Or, at least, that was an easier way to describe the sense of the thing that possessed her—compelled her—to push from the wall. She didn’t think at all, let alone about her movements.

Thecrackof her palm smacking across Romeo’s cheek with enough force to toss his head to the side seemed to split the air.

Her palm stung and her every sharp breath felt like shards of hot ice slicing down her throat as her chest heaved. Adrenaline shot through her, her body tense and somehow already overexerted, as if she’d just finished a hard workout.

“Abby!” Ryoma hissed, reaching out to pull her away. His tone sounded like a reprimand, but that wasn’t what she saw on his face. That might have been the only thing she couldn’t see on his face.

Romeo rolled his jaw, his dark blue eyes narrowing in another hard glare. “You either have nerves of steel or you’re a fucking idiot.”

Abigail twisted out of Ryoma’s grip and glared right back at Romeo De Salvo. All she could really hear were the confusing, still unexplained and obviously too personal words Gerardo had said while he’d had them trapped in the SUV before. Something about Ryoma having once been a nameless mutt. But shewasn’tan idiot, which meant she knew a low-blow when she heard one. “If you want to come at me, then come at me,” she said, “but don’t you dare treat Ryoma like he’s trash beneath your shoes all of a sudden. You call yourselves afamily, but you don’t hesitate to cut as deep as youca—”

Ryoma clamped a hand around her mouth and locked her against his broad chest. “Stop. That’s enough.” He stepped backward, hauling her with him, until there were several feet of space between the two of them and Romeo. “I apologize, sir. Please take any retribution out on me.”

Her eyes flew wide and she had to fight to stop from jabbing an elbow into his chest to get him to release her. It would sort of defeat the purpose of turning around and yelling at him for that macho nonsense.

Romeo’s expression was hard, angry, and otherwise unreadable for a long minute. Finally, he shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “Fitzgerald. Understand that if you ever lay hands on one of us for any reason that isn’t to immediately defend another one of us, it will be the last goddamn thing you ever do. No matter who’s standing beside you.” His jaw tightened some more, briefly, and his stare shifted over her shoulder. “She isn’t wrong. I was out of line that time. So we’re all going to let this go and call it a night.”

Abigail blinked, her head spinning. He still looked strung tight, but his words indicated he’d taken a breath—if only of the metaphorical variety—and cleared his head.Kind of a lousy apology, though.Then again, did mafia men offer real apologies?

Ryoma’s grip loosened, marginally, and she saw him incline his head in her peripheral vision. “Thank you.”

Nothing more was said before Romeo spun no his heel and strode away.

Ryoma dropped his hand from her mouth and pressed his lips to her temple. His voice was low and gruff as he whisperedabove her ear, “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? Never do that again.”

Abigail leaned aside and frowned up at him. She opened her mouth to respond, because even though she hadn’t at all consciously meant to do what she’d done, she had no regrets about it, but someone cleared their throat from the hall opening. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she considered what their position probably looked like.

Ryoma turned his gaze outward without removing his hands from where they’d settled on her hips or letting her pull away from him.

“Uh,” Benny said, “night guard’s on its way. We can clear out.” He dangled a set of keys. “You want the SUV that’s in the garage? Or the one you drove over?”

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