Page 79 of Justice for Francesca

“What about your brothers? How do they fit into this?”

“They weren’t at the restaurant that night, but where Oisin McCabe goes, the triplets go, as far as crime. The four of them are bound by more than blood.” Shaking her head, she let out a puff of frustration. “That’s why this all seems so crazy to me. I have no proof. All I know is that I saw my father eating dinner one night in a restaurant with the Sequeira don. I didn’t even tell anyone I saw my father there.”

“People aren’t rational in their decision-making paradigm a lot of times. They lead with their emotions. If he saw you, which seems the most likely option, and he knows you work for theFBI, he might get twitchy. You know you’re steering clear of your family, but it’s even possible your file searches tripped a booby trap alerting him that someone was looking into him, and he finds out it’s you, so now he thinks you’re a threat. You’d be able to turn evidence on him in a heartbeat.”

“I just wanted to know what he was doing. I had no intention of doing anything with the information if I found any.”

“No, but you could! They have no clue what you’re thinking or why you’re doing it. I get it. Information is power, and forewarned is forearmed, so to speak. If anyone at the bureau comes at you about his actions, you’ve got a clue what’s going on, and you’re not ambushed. But this has backfired in the craziest of ways, and now we need to take care of it.”

She bit her lip, eyes studying the destroyed cake on her plate.

“Ask, Frankie. You know I’ll tell you. The only reason you’re off this case is because you took yourself off it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I should have let Ortiz keep me inside. Maybe I could have helped Michael somehow indirectly. Something’s so wrong about the whole confession procuring.”

Cruz scoffed at her statement. “Well, he confessed to nothing. He’s just not talking, which makes me wonder why he even showed up to surrender himself. As for Ortiz, she spouts the party line when it suits her and plays fast and loose when it doesn’t. It’s a demand of the job, which is why you and I have no designs on a job like that. We prefer being agents, so we don’t have those headaches. There’s enough bureaucracy in the bureau without us having to get involved.”

“Try saying that five times fast,” she joked.

“I don’t want to sprain my tongue. I might need it later.”

“Eww.” Francesca laughed and threw her napkin at him. “I did not need that mental image.”

“What can I say? I’m a giver.”

“I’m going to let that comment pass.”

“I’ll let you off the hook this time. So… ask. What do you want to know?”

“What did Michael say in his interview?”

“Nothing about you looking into family history. All he did was confirm what he told you on the phone. He got a message from Tilly; he went home to find her in tears because she’d had an argument with Triumph, and they talked. He wouldn’t say what about. When he left, he told her she was welcome to stay in his apartment as long as she liked because he was going to be gone for a week or so, and when he left, he took a black crate with him. He took it into the club around five a.m. and was out ten minutes later. He wouldn’t say what was in the crate or where he went. Unfortunately, while the video feed shows him coming into the club, there’s no outgoing footage. Someone worked their magic on the cameras again.”

Cruz, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, tie still knotted but loose and hanging around his neck, leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you one thing. He’s scared. He’s hiding it well, but something has him terrified. I’m pretty sure he wants to talk, but something’s holding him back, and whatever it is? I’d bet my job it has something to do with you.”

“You think he knows something, and he’s protecting me.”

The agent nodded. “Yup.”

Tripoli’s phone rang, and Francesca heard him pick it up. The conversation was quiet, but she saw Mickie in profile, looking at him with concern, and Tripoli giving her a head tilt toward the dining room. When she arrived in the room, her hand touched Cruz’s shoulder, her eyes wide. “Something’s happening.”

Cruz looked at Francesca, and both of them rose from the table. He glanced toward Tripoli at the breakfast bar. Something in Tripoli’s gaze had Cruz heading for his jacket where he left hisgun. Francesca went to the bedroom to get hers. When she came back out, Cruz had his holster on. She checked to make sure she had a round in the chamber of her own weapon and the safety on.

Tripoli disconnected from his call and crossed to the wall between the kitchen and the elevator. He pushed on it, and a small door opened, revealing four small black-and-white television screens. “That was Cosmos. Looks like your flight from the FBI was passed on. We’ve got movement. Three men in black. Two coming from the rear and one from the front. Looks like you were right, Cruz.” He looked at Francesca. “The McCabe welcome wagon has arrived.”

Stepping up to the screens, she swore. “Yep. It’s them. Those frickin’ idiots. Why couldn’t they just stay in New York City? I’m no threat to them.”

Cruz looked at Tripoli. “I figured they’d come for her quickly, but not tonight. Something pushed their timetable up. Where can we stash Mickie?”

“My bathroom should be safe enough. There’s a small panic room through the shower. You claustrophobic?” he asked Mickie.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she managed to squeak out, “Maybe?”

Cruz kissed Mickie’s forehead. “Go. Close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. I’ll be there as soon as this is done.”

“Be careful,” she whispered.

Frankie saw the worry in the woman’s eyes, but she also saw the love they had for each other communicated between them as well. The pixie-haired woman pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth, then followed Tripoli into his bedroom and then the bathroom.

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