“Now what?” she asked when she glimpsed my expression, which was nowhere near her own happy one.
I turned and led her and the officer from the room on a charge to get to my car as fast as possible. No point in murdering her at the police station. “Now I’m taking you home and making sure you don’t leave again.”
I could stop at the hardware store in the morning and change the locks to the opposite direction, letting me lock Katy in her house. It seemed like a reasonable idea until I remembered how she’d entered my home through the laundry room window on more than one occasion.
“That’s it?” she asked as she calmly got into the passenger side of my car without putting up a fight. It stood as proof even Katy understood the severity of the situation.
I moved my cell phone from the seat before she sat on it. “Yes, that’s it.”
She nodded. “Okay, but let’s not tell my mom.”
13
Katy
Don’t look at me that way.
Pierce said not to break into any more houses. He didn’t say I couldn’t stop by and chat with a friend.
I waited for a passing car to turn the corner onto Main Street and then crossed the road walking closer to the ocean. If someone saw me, hopefully, they would assume I was out for an evening stroll.
Anyway, Pierce never said not to talk to my friends. Even if said friend is the local mobster. Next time Pierce should specify. He’s a business man. I shouldn’t have to tell him it’s all in the details.
My car was still at the police station, parked out back where Anderson left it when he decided not to bail me out of jail. He wouldn’t give me the keys, so until I called his mother and tattled on him, the car would stay there. It was okay, though, because with Pierce having me followed it’s much easier to sneak out and visit my… friends, on foot.
Thankfully Frankie Zanetti lived on Bayside, the main road that followed the ocean and happened to be the same street I lived on. Also Pierce. Pierce and Frankie lived on the rich people side, and I lived on the enjoy-the-rich-people’s-mansions-view-side.
Frankie’s home was overdone, like most of the mansions on his side of the street, but I walked up the steps and tried to peek in a window like I did every time I came to Frankie’s home. So far I’d never caught him at anything good. No dead bodies or piles of guns in view of an uncovered window anywhere. I knocked on the door and stepped to the side in case he shot first and asked questions later. You never could be too safe.
Sadly, even though the town had tons of stories regarding what Frankie did, I never once caught him in the act of anything disgraceful, regardless of how many times I peeked through his windows. His house stayed… normal. Not a single duffle bag full of heads or even a murder basement. He’d become a disappointment for mob bosses.
The front doors opened and a tall burly man who took up almost the entire opening gave me an annoyed look. A gun hung obviously from a clip on his belt and he crossed his arms before grunting.
I recognized the standard intimidation tactic, but I’d hung with Ridge for the last two years. Ridge and his men had a tendency to hike up their guns, but Frankie and his bunch were about their show of intimidation. And it just didn’t work on me.
I smiled. That always put them off their guard. “Hey, big guy,” I said and patted him on the shoulder. He was so tall I had to use my tiptoes to reach it, but I got the job done. “He’s expecting me.” With a not-so-gentle shove to get on my way, I slipped under his arms and entered Frankie’s house.
It looked the same as every time I’d been here. Too perfect. Too clean. Nothing mobster at all. The home was straight lines and minimal décor. Even Ridge left out a Guns and Amo magazine on the living room coffee table. Frankie didn’t even have a movie poster of Scarface or The Godfather.
As I said, a disgrace.
The personal guard on steroids turned and followed me into the room, getting in my way once but letting me continue. “The boss is not expecting you.” His words came out grunted as if he found speaking hard.
“Are you sure? I have a meeting in my planner.” There was no meeting. Hell, there was no planner.
My saving grace, Frankie the man himself, stepped out of an office he maintained on the side of his front living room. He had that tall dark and handsome appeal going for him, but something always lingered in his eyes. Murder. Drugs. Something. One day I’d figure it out, but not now.
He reminded me of a young gangster who didn’t catch the memo that mob rule was done, yet he still pulled it off and looked magnificent. I was more of a three-piece suit type of girl so it did little for me, but I’d heard other ladies in town talking.
For whatever reason I found myself more attracted to good guys. It was possibly one of my biggest faults. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t muster any lower tingling for a dude with a motorcycle. Or the too muscled macho heroes my friends fell head over heels for at least once a month.
They were moths and the men at Ridge’s security team the flames. They threw themselves at them until they were so tangled up there was no escape. Don’t get me wrong. The muscles were nice to look at, but those men were too demanding.
No way did I plan to hook up with one of those super possessive jerks who’d try to boss me around all the time. I was my own woman, and I wouldn’t be with anyone who didn’t recognize my special appeal.
“Didn’t we have a meeting tonight, Frankie?” I asked playing perfectly innocent. I’d been practicing my whole life.
He shook his head, fully aware we didn’t have a meeting, but he smiled anyway. “There’s always time for Katy.”
