Page 172 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

“Sorry, Detective,” Eric says, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think I’m man enough to handle you both.”

She leans forward, her upper abdomen pressing against the edge of the table as her low-cut top pulls a little lower down her chest.

Jesus. I shake my head. She isn’t subtle at all. And the way Eric’s eyes dilate a little makes me think he’s just as interested as she is.

At least the one thing I do know is Connie will only be in it for the pleasure. She doesn’t do boyfriends. She loves her independence and freedom. Plus, she’s more career-driven than I am.

If our roles had been reversed, I’m certain she wouldn’t have made any of the decisions I made. She wouldn’t have found herself obsessed over a baby that wasn’t hers or in love with a man that doesn’t want her.

I need to clear my head. My mind keeps wandering between everything, which is exactly what I don’t need. I can’t focus on finding Drago’s son when I allow him to take up too much space in my head and my heart.

I keep telling myself to shove him back, but I haven’t yet. As impossible as it seems, I have to stop thinking about him.

Why do people fall in love? Because this sucks!

* * *

That night,Eric and I head to The Cove, the upscale hotel Justin and I ate at yesterday. Eric says there is a quaint little bar inside where the three of us can grab a bite to eat and have a couple of drinks.

It’s a lot later than I usually eat, but Eric and I were busy all day and Justin was working several of his IA cases. I knew Internal Affairs was a needed function inside the police department, but I had no idea the number of daily complaints that come in that Justin’s department has to follow up on.

“What time did Justin say he would meet us here?” I ask, walking through the side door to the hotel that Eric holds open for me.

“I got a text before I got out of my SUV. He said he was leaving headquarters and should be here in fifteen. With traffic, he’ll probably be more like twenty.”

“Do you think we’re wasting too much time and energy waiting for Chasity to show up at one of the places she’s known to frequent?”

Unfortunately, we can’t ping her cell phone. There isn’t one in her name or under her aunt or uncle that isn’t their own. Eric hasn’t come up with any possible source of cellular contact to track. She has one. Come on; who doesn’t these days? Plus, she’s young. Of course she would have a cell phone. I’ve had one since I was thirteen.

“Diaz has plans for that boy. He’s not going to harm him until he gets Acerbi to do what he wants,” Eric says, sounding confident.

“Unless he gets tired of waiting or realizes Drago isn’t going to take his bait.”

He eyes me sideways. “What makes you so sure your boy isn’t going to do exactly what Diaz wants?”

“You said it yourself, Drago nor his siblings are criminals.”

“Young Bri,” he chastises me. “Even good people are capable of committing crimes—especially when it comes to the safety of their children.”

“D doesn’t believe me,” I explain. “He’s convinced himself there is no possible way Gabriel is his.” Eric simply shrugs at my last statement.

When we enter the small, dimly lit bar, I only see a handful of patrons. Some are sitting in booths, talking quietly among themselves. Then I see a group of younger adults cackling to my right. They’re taking up every amount of space in a sectional booth.

“Fuck,” Eric drawls out, bringing my attention back to him. His body locks, as does his jaw. When I start to turn to see who has pulled this reaction out of him, he clutches my arm by the elbow, pulling. My eyes stop their scan, cutting back to now furious eyes. “Let’s hit up another place. There are plenty of restaurants in the area.”

“But you wanted somewhere quiet where we could eat and discuss the case.”

“We can do that someplace else.”

Suspicion gets the better of me, so as he starts to pull me out of the restaurant, I turn my head, looking at the bar. A fury I’ve never felt before strikes me like a bolt of lightning igniting the summer brush of dead greenery. I see red and don’t even remember snatching my arm back from Eric’s grasp until I’m standing behind Drago.

It’s not him per se that I’m fixated on.

“Bri.” His voice is surprised, and perhaps I hear a twinge of guilt, but it could be my imagination playing tricks on me. I’ve always thought I could look at any situation, personal or professional, and be objective. See things for what they really are, but ever since I’ve met Drago, I’ve been questioning that skill.

My eyes finally snap up, looking away from where her hand is wrapped firmly around D’s exposed lower bicep.

“Take your hands off him,” I order. Do I have that right? No. But suddenly I find myself not in the right state of mind. It’s pissing me off, but she’s pissing me off more.

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