Page 43 of Daddy's Little Spy

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“Daddy? I, um, have a favor to ask.”

Glancing up from his phone, Benito raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

There was a hint of suspicion in his tone, and even though she couldn’t really blame him for it, she felt the sting of it all the same. But despite the ding to her heart, she pressed on. “I really need some things from my house. Like clothes. And.... stuff,” she finished lamely.

“Stuff,” he echoed, still with that bit of suspicion, though now it was tinged with amusement. “What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“Just, you know, stuff. Pictures and stuff. I don’t really have anything of mine here, so it doesn’t really feel like home.” She’d tacked the last on purely for the added guilt. A good Catholic boy was a sucker for a guilt trip. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how true they were. And how much she wanted this place to feel like home.

What the hell was wrong with her?

“Ah, bambolina. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that.” Leaning back in his chair, he studied her, his eyes somehow warm and unreadable at the same time. “We could go this weekend.”

Her heartbeat picked up at the suggestion. It was already Monday, and she desperately needed to get the information she’d gathered from Emilio’s computer as well as her own evidence over to someone at the BPD as soon as possible if they were going to be ready for the drop on Wednesday.

“I really want to go today, Daddy.” She put a bit of whiny pleading in her voice, as much as it grated her pride to do so. “I’m tired of wearing Amara’s clothes all the time.” That was only partially true. While she missed her own, more comfortable clothes, she was enjoying Amara’s stylish wardrobe more than she’d expected to.

“I can’t take you today, Diana.”

Calculating her next move, she dropped into the armchair beside him. “Fine. I guess this weekend works,” she grumbled, pushing her bottom lip out into a pout and adding a dramatic sniffle.

Beside her, Benito sighed. “All right. I can’t take you, but if you take two of Amara’s security detail with you, then you can go alone.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” Launching herself out of the chair, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. Guilt over the elaborate deception bubbled in her stomach, but she deliberately ignored it. Maybe she could brat her way into a spanking later and relieve some of the guilt. For now, she had a job to do.

“You can pack whatever fits in one suitcase and one moving box. And you must be in and out in an hour.” His expression hardened and he gripped her chin in his hand. “If you are even a minute over that hour, Joey will tell me, and you’ll spend the night with a sore, welted bottom. Understood?”

And there it was, the perfect excuse to get her ass blistered and pay her penance for this particular deception. “Yes, Daddy.”

* * *

Under the guise of using the bathroom, Diana slipped away from her “guards” and down the hall to her office. As quietly as she could, she tapped the keys on her laptop to log in. Five minutes later, she had all of the evidence she’d gathered neatly attached to an email.

But when she clicked in the “To” box, her fingers hovered over the keys. Who was she supposed to send this to? There was no way of knowing who in the BPD was dirty and who wasn’t.

Internal Affairs, maybe? It seemed like the safest choice, if there was one. But it chafed at her, turning her fellow officers over to the rats in IA. If there was one department equally hated by every cop on the force, IA was it. They were always on the hunt for dirty cops, and they were entirely too willing to ruin lives to get what they wanted.

Still, what choice did she have? The way Benito talked, nobody in her precinct, even the brass, could be trusted.

Searching her mental archives, she typed in the address for one of the rats and filled her personal email address in the blind copy box.

Send.

It should have been easy. This was what she’d been working toward these past few months. And even if it got her killed — or worse, imprisoned — she could sleep a hell of a lot easier knowing she’d done what she could to put the Rinaldis behind bars.

So why was she hesitating? It wasn’t fear. She didn’t taste that tangy, metallic flavor that accompanied fear.

No, that didn’t come until she finally put her finger on what was driving her reluctance.

Love.

Or at least, something close enough to have her finger trembling on the mouse. As impossible as it was, she was in love with her husband. And, though it was entirely different, she loved Amara. Could she really do this? Could she so easily betray two people she cared so deeply for?

But how could she live with herself if she didn’t? If she didn’t at least try to do the right thing, she was no better than them. Than a common criminal.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked send. And, giving in to the grief and horror of what she’d just done, dropped her head into her hands and wept.

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