Page 65 of Shackled By the Mafia Boss

“I’m sorry,” is all I say. I’m not sorry just because her father was murdered. I’m sorry because I have the answers sheneeds, but I’m not going to give her any of them. The more she knows, the more dangerous it becomes and I’ll be damned before I willfully push her into more danger than she is already in.

She shrugs. “It’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t, but still, I’m sorry.”

A tear rolls down the side of her face, betraying the smile on her face. I wipe the moisture away, pull her closer, pressing our bodies together.

My stomach twists, ice coating my veins. It breaks my heart I have to keep the truth from her, but that is the only way she will survive. Because her father died on the night of the operation, we never got to find out why he tried to steal from us and who killed him.

Whoever it was, Jane would be in danger if they found out she was the daughter of the man they killed twelve years ago. I can’t risk it.

Jane and I spend the weekend together. We wake up on Monday morning to her phone beeping on the nightstand.

She stretches and covers her mouth as she yawns, then rolls over and grabs her phone from the nightstand.

I have no idea who is at the other end of the line, but whatever he tells her makes her eyes widen and her jaw to drop.

Chapter Fifteen

Jane

Rodriguez died in his sleep in the middle of the night and the autopsy result says he died of asphyxiation.

I’d rushed down to the office after I got the text from Taylor. If the autopsy result was true—which I believe it was, it means he was murdered. Whoever left him for dead on the streets must’ve come back to finish what they started.

“Where’s the Chief?” I ask as I rush into the office.

Josh looks me up and down. He’s holding a cup of coffee and his expression is a more sour than normal. I haven’t seen that look on his face in a while. He usually has an arrogant smile on his face whenever he is taunting me, but that isn’t the case today.

Everything feels off. The office is eerie and no one has a smile on their face. An ADA has just died, and his murderer is out there somewhere.

Taylor’s in Chief Smith’s office when I open the door and walk in. They both look at me.

“Good morning,” I mutter as I close the door behind me and stand beside Taylor’s seat. “I heard about the situation this morning.”

Neither Taylor nor Chief Smith answers.

“I think this case is connected to the Hell’s Kitchen cases,” I go on to say despite the tension crackling in the air. “If you don’t mind, I can…”

“You and your inability to read the room,” Chief Smith bites out with a frown. “What are you on about now? You want to get back on the case now that Rodriguez is dead?”

The tone of his voice makes my breath hitch. He said it like I’m happy Rodriguez is dead. He might have been an asshole, but I’m not happy he is dead. Not in the slightest. I don’tcare to defend myself though. That is not what is important. “Yes, Sir. I want back on the case.”

He huffs and sighs at the same time. “Fine, I’m not going to stop you. Take Taylor along with you wherever you go, I don’t want another team member dead on my watch.”

“Thank you.” That was easier than I thought. Maybe Rodriguez’s death has brought him back to his senses after all.

“You can leave if that’s all you came to say.”

I share a glance with Taylor, then I nod and leave Chief Smith’s office. When I settle at my desk, I call for one of the junior officers.

Sam hurries to my desk. He’s a twenty-four-year-old with curly blonde hair and a slender body. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Can I get the file on ADA Rodriguez? I want everything from when he left the station on Friday night to who he met, what calls he made and the time of the incident.”

He nods. “I’ll bring it right away, ma’am.” He hurries away and when he returns, he is holding a brown folder. He hands it over and leaves.

I open it, flipping through the pictures and stop at one from Rodriguez’s autopsy. There’s a purplish mark circling his neck which means he was strangled, but the marks don’t look like they were inflicted with a rope. Whatever his killer used, it had spikes on it.

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