Page 67 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

James’s gaze slid to Aurelio who was reaching a hand out toward him. “Aurelio Grassi,” he said. “August’s cousin.”

“Massimo’s brother,” James said, making my brows raise.

“Yes,” Aurelio said.

“I know a little bit about every organization in the state,” James admitted. “Even if they don’t technically belong in my town,” he added. “You guys took out Colin’s organization.”

“Are you mad they cost you money?” Traveler asked, tone sharp.

She really was in a shitty mood, and it was bothering me more than I would have thought that I didn’t know why, that she wasn’t sharing it with me.

James, clearly accustomed to his daughter leveling those kinds of remarks at him, shrugged. “I never said I was angry with them,” he said. “But they know as well as I do that certain organizations operate in certain areas. This isn’t theirs. Though I appreciate them bending the rules to look after you while I couldn’t.”

“I don’t—“ Traveler started to object.

“Let’s not,” her father cut her off. “You can get back to being angry about how I conduct my business once I get you safe again,” he added. “For now, what we really need is to get along.”

“Alright,” Traveler agreed, arms still crossed over herself, and I was starting to think that it was a self-defensive gesture when she was feeling uncomfortable or upset. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Your coffee?” he asked, taking a deep breath. Like he knew her shop’s coffee by scent. Which was pretty fucking telling about his feelings for his daughter if that was true.

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding.

“Always, then,” he said, and she moved to make him a cup.

“There are pastries and parfait,” she offered him as she passed him his mug.

“I ate. But thanks. Now, what was on your cameras at the store?” he asked. “What?” he asked when her face fell a bit.

“Her cameras were tampered with before the attack,” I told him. “The outside ones, from above somehow, since the feed never caught anyone fucking with them before they went to static. The store ones, someone just knew how to avoid being seen screwing with them, I guess.”

“But they were in your store?” James asked, frowning. “How? You don’t let any of them in your store.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe they dressed up like the developers or something. I’ve been racking my brain, but I can’t figure it out.” She paused for a second before looking up at him. “Wait… you don’t know who attacked you?” she asked.

To that, James’s jaw went to steel. “They came up from behind. Knocked me out cold. I never saw anyone.”

“Why wasn’t it reported?” she asked as she gave him his wallet. “We watched the news, but it was never on there.”

“We have a protocol for if something happens to me. Being how… things are,” he said, not wanting to openly admit to being dirty and in the pockets of the local criminal organizations. “We can’t have it getting out that I am in a coma or dead, or there would be fucking chaos in the streets. Why do you keep looking at that?” he asked when she stared down at his wallet.

“It had a tracker in it,” I told him.

“What?” James barked, loud enough that the often unflappable Traveler jolted.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was in one of the pockets when the hospital gave it to Traveler. We debated what to do with it before ultimately deciding to bring it to the police station and leave it there. Figuring that if these people were tracking you, they would think you were at the hospital for quick treatment, then back to work to try to figure out who attacked you.”

“Smart,” he said, opening and closing his wallet a few times, pausing to glance at the picture he had in it of himself and a young Traveler.

“What are you thinking?” Traveler asked, watching her father.

“I’m thinking not many people would have access to my wallet for long enough to stick a tracker in it,” he said. “Except for someone at the precinct,” he added, jaw twitching a bit. “I leave my wallet in my desk,” he added, working things out aloud.

One would imagine that he had his own office. Which meant that none of the local criminals would have access to it.

“That leaves, what? Three hundred suspects?” Traveler asked, exhaling hard.

Did knowing how many cops there were in the district have more to do with her dad, or her community outreach work?

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