Page 35 of Maid For The Mafia Informant

I help myself to Enrico’s wardrobe, which I assume is for guests. There’s a vast array of track pants, baggy sweaters, and tee shirts, which suits me perfectly.

Partridge is next on my list to check as far as emails go. He’s sent so many it’s making my eyes itch.

The most common and strangest thread in all of them, even the ones sent today?

Not once has he asked me where I am.

Even stranger, most were sent when he knew I had no access to emails at all.

Weird.

I flit between my own files and evidence research and more emails, cross-checking everything that confuses me with recent news reports that are credible or from government websites.

Missing so much news for such a short time really has put me out of touch with everything, and I’m starting to wonder if that was the whole idea of having me in that ‘safe house’ to begin with.

Safe for who? Me, the mob? Or the very people who were sworn to uphold the law they said they were protecting me for, so I could fight using it?

It is true, the De Falco family and other major crime syndicates in the city and all over have certainly stepped up their game. They’re in the news like white on rice, but no arrests.

Why?

I notice the time and although my bodily instinct is to go to bed, to curl up next to Sophie, I need to press on with all this.

Coffee beckons.

Closing the hallway doors, I grind some beans and put a fresh pot on, again grateful for Enrico’s hospitality.

This place is amazing, I could live in a place like this without question.

I help myself to some cold meat and left over potato skins with guacamole and pour a large mug of coffee before settling back down to my work.

The sound of the doors opening makes me spin around.

It’s Sophie, rubbing sleep from her eyes, dressed only in a tee shirt asking why I started breakfast without her.

I reach for her as she moves closer, setting her on my knee. She smiles sleepily as my tent pole does its usual thing but having her on my lap half naked? What does she expect?

I tell her it’s still late, that I just made coffee to keep working.

“What can I do to help?” she asks, helping herself to my mug and taking a long sip.

I feel my animal instinct rising again, but shake my head as I realize, Sophie’s the worst help ever when it comes to actual work. All I want to do is screw her brains out every time she’s near me.

But her eyes on mine are clear, genuine. She really wants to help.

“Pants would be a start,” I observe, letting my hand slide up far enough to touch her still wet nakedness with my fingers, making her shiver and giggle.

Her chest bounces and I grab that too.

“Alright, alright!” she concedes. “I can either get dressed or go back to bed and leave you to it, is that what you mean?” she asks.

“I love you Sophie,” I tell her in reply, it’s the only thing I can think of now, probably every time I see her.

Pecking my cheek, she reaffirms what I already know, but will never tire of hearing, she loves me too.

Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens though once her keen eyes catch the one name on my email list I still have highlighted.

“And just why are you getting emails from that crooked DA?” she asks, hooking her arms around my neck, leaning in closer with an inquisitor’s gaze.

I breathe loudly through my nose. “I’m wondering the exact same thing, to be honest,” I tell her.

I figure Sophie will be mad if I tell her the DA wants to meet, in person.

But she thinks hard for a moment when I tell her that’s what it’s all about.

“If you do, I’m going with you,” is all she says, not sounding jealous, but as intrigued as I am.

“That cop’s daughter instinct?” I ask her, concerned when she nods so quickly.

“Oh yeah,” she says firmly. “That woman is up to something, and we both need to find out what it is.”Chapter NineteenSophieBen sounds like he doesn’t want me to go, but at the same time, I don’t think he wants to set himself up with a meeting with a crooked District Attorney either.

I wished I followed the news more lately, I might be able to fill Ben in more, but I’ve been looking for ways to feed myself and keep a roof over my head.

I haven’t asked dad for help since moving out of home and it’s been tougher than I thought.

Might sound a little selfish, but my own problems have eclipsed local, even world events lately.

Not my problem if millionaire criminals are having a hard time of it, for whatever reasons.

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