Page 82 of Gin & Trouble

Dante

I had one goal—findFrankie Abruzzo and find out what the hell was going on. Simple enough, considering I knew where she worked and where she slept. However, I’d greatly underestimated how complicated my life had become since the woman of my dreams turned out to be an Abruzzo.

Kincaid met me the second I walked through the doors of Marchionni Corporation. “Sir, we have a problem.”

I didn’t have time for the head of security and his problems. Not when they interfered with my freaking mission. “Just one?”

“Several in fact.” He trailed behind me. Under any other circumstances, I would have found the large man struggling to keep up with me funny, but I wasn’t in the mood for humor.

I stopped moving long enough to press theupbutton on the elevator.

“Sir, I need you to listen to what I have to say before you”—Kincaid grabbed my upper arm when I turned for the stairs—“enter your apartment.”

Kincaid had worked for my family for as long as I could remember, but never, not once, had he touched me, let alone physically restrained me.

I glared from his hand on my arm to his eyes. “Talk.”

“The police are upstairs to question you about the shooting.”

I could barely hear him over the buzzing in my ears. “Where’s Miss Carpenter?”

Kincaid flashed me a smirk that tap-danced on the line between rude and outright insubordination. “MissAbruzzohasn’t been seen since she left the penthouse this morning.”

Alicudi hadn’t returned hit me like a bullet to the heart. There were two explanations as to why she’d disappeared. One, she had something to do with the shooting, or two, Tommaso had found her. “Right. Abruzzo. I wasn’t aware you’d been briefed on the situation.”

“It’s my job to know what’s going on inside this building. A job you’ve made more difficult by keeping secrets.” He folded his arms.

Once again, I was struck with another first from Kincaid. He’d freaking called me out on my personal life, or at least come damned close to doing so. “You work for me, remember?”

He stiffened his spine. “I work for this company, and it’s run by a board of directors. If anything, I answer to Gabe, not you.”

“That isn’t a technicality you want to exploit right now, Kincaid.” I’d had enough of the time suck and the conversation. “Tell me whatever-the-hell you need to tell me or get out of my way.”

“The detectives upstairs are here to question you about Francesca Abruzzo’s possible involvement in Enzo’s shooting. They have been with Iris Rogers for a solid hour.”

What the…

“Who let them upstairs and why were they left alone with Iris?” As soon as this business with Frankie ended, I intended to see Kincaid’s head on a human resources platter. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone else, have let law enforcement into my apartment without a search warrant, let alone left them unattended.

“Miss Rogers called them, sir.” He turned and strode away.

You have got to be kidding me.

I stepped into the elevator and stabbed the button for my floor. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why mousy little Iris would have called the freaking police. Last time I’d checked, she and Frankie were close.

A uniformed officer and two men in cheap sports coats stood when I entered my front door. One of the men, who I assumed were detectives, smiled. The other stared as if he’d caught a whiff of something foul.

“Gentlemen.” I had nothing against the police, but I couldn’t say the same for them about me.

My limited experience with the New Orleans Police Department had taught me most of them knew, or knew of, my family. And they didn’t want us in their city. A fact made quite clear by the way we had been treated after Joe and Rebecca were murdered.

Detective Turd-Under-His-Nose said, “Dante Marchionni?”

“That’s me.” I glanced around the room and found Iris curled up in the corner of my couch. Her red-eyes and running nose told me she’d been crying, but her refusal to meet my gaze made it difficult for me to give a shit.

“We’re following up on two related tips regarding your brother’s shooting.” This from Detective Smiley. “Miss Rogers recognized a person of interest from a news story and called the hotline.”

News story? Had the police released the video of Frankie?

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