Page 82 of Absinthe Minded

“Martin Sinclair died before the collision.”

“What about his wife? Was she questioned?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Wayne motioned to me. “You’re good. Batted those lashes and I fell for it.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Wouldn’t you do whatever you had to do to protect the people you love?”

Oddly enough, he glanced back toward the bar. “Yeah. I would.”

“I’ll ask you again, do you think it was an accident?”

He turned back to me. “My gut tells me no, but my superiors put a hell of a lot of pressure on us to close the case.”

I’d read as much in the report, but I appreciated his honesty. “Did Papa Joe pressure the department?”

He blew out a breath. “You’re killing me. Let’s just say, pressure comes from all sides in high profile cases.”

My head spun. I felt like I’d walked into made for television melodrama. “Are they mafia?”

“Honey, if you have to ask me that, you shouldn’t marry Gabe.”

I hugged myself and bent forward a few inches. It’d all happened so fast. I loved him, but was that enough?

Wayne laid his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

Am I raising the next generation of mafia? Am I engaged to the next freakingGodfather? I righted myself and met his gaze. “I’m afraid of what I don’t know.”

Wayne glanced up the street and lowered his voice again. “What they call themselves doesn’t matter. You don’t get the level of power and influence the Marchionnis have without pissing people off and breaking a few laws. Take my advice—leave theaccidentalone. Nothing good will come of poking around in this.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

His head remained still, but his gaze darted to the side.

Unlike the detective, I turned and locked eyes withtheguy in the leather jacket. I pressed my hand to my chest and took a step behind Wayne. “I think that man’s following me.”

The detective nodded. “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s on the Marchionni payroll. The question is, why are they having you tailed?”

My grandmother used to have these seizures where she’d stare off into space, like she’d vacated her body. I had one of those right there in the middle of the French Quarter. One minute I was talking to Wayne, the next everything stopped. No sound, no sight, nothing except me and blinding fear.

“Maggie?” the detective called to me, but he seemed a million miles away. “Miss Guthrie? Are you okay?”

I snapped back into the present. “I need to get out of here.”

“I’ll drive you home.” He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Leather Jacket.

The guy held his arms up as if to saybustedand walked away.

“I can call a ride share.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight in your current state of mind.” Wayne led me back into the bar, said something to Jessie, and followed me to the office. “Maggie, listen. Gabe’s a good guy. Give him a chance to answer your questions before you go into hiding, but you have to ask him.”

“I will.” I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have said the same thing if I’d told him my fiancé had a child with Martin Sinclair’s wife.

27

Gabe

A vibrationin my pants woke me. I eased Ella from my chest to the couch and pulled my phone from my pocket. “Hey, Leo, what’s up? How are the poodles?”

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