I pinned Crowley with a glare. “But talk about my mother again, and I’ll staple your dick to the fuckin’ desk.”
There was a long pause of silence between us until Riccardo chuckled and shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Crowley.”
I put the stapler down and went back to my seat, leaving Crowley in silence before the two detectives went back to whatever work they had on their desks, no longer staring or running their mouths. I leaned back in my seat and let my head rest against the window behind me.
Seven minutes later, I walked into Mark’s office to discuss more of the same — weapon deals, money laundering, places where Antonio conducts his business, and who his clients are. Hearing every detail leave my mouth, after years of keeping it all a secret, felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, watching myself slowly unravel everything I knew about loyalty.
I wondered if it was even considered loyalty. Maybe it was fear of the repercussions if I stepped out of line that kept my mouth shut for so long. And now all those details were flowing out of me like I had nothing to lose.
Well, not every detail. My father’s death was a topic I had locked down.
Mark put down his pen and closed his ever-growing folder of notes. “Lily’s chat with me the other day made me rethink the danger of all this a little more.”
“You only just realized how dangerous it is?” I lifted an eyebrow.
He didn’t respond to my sarcasm. Instead, he steepled his fingers as he stared me down. “How are your gun skills?”
I blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself because I’ll start reconsidering the idea.”
“You—” I sat forward and rested my arms on the table. “You want me usin’ a gun?”
“I want you to brush up on any skills you may have. Assuming you have used one before?” He inhaled. “It’d be for you and Lily’s protection in case I can’t get to you in time if Antonio or his children find out what you’re doing for me.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth as I stared. “I think I’m havin’ an aneurysm.”
“You’d attend private supervised sessions at a shooting range with detectives Crowley and Riccardo.”
I huffed in disbelief. “No.”
“You work for a mob boss, but using a gun is against your morals?”
“Say I agree; I get the gun; I go to target practice with Tweedledee and Tweedledum out there; What’s stopping you from saying I was armed when you arrest me?”
“You won’t be framed. The gun is only for your protection.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “The team has already called me crazy for suggesting this. Don’t make it harder… You can choose to tell Lily you have it or not.”
“This is fucked up,” I scoffed. “And you’re gonna just hand one over? Do you keep spares in lost and found?”
A smile appeared on the edges of his mouth. “You’ll get one from Antonio himself.”
I sat in complete silence on one of the couches in Lily and Kira’s living room as the sunset cast an orange glow across the room from behind Lily. She was on the other couch, adjacent to me, with a book resting in her lap and her eyes on the floor as she processed what I told her. The wheat bag she was holding to her stomach only added to the guilt I felt about making her feel more miserable.
Lily shifted on the spot. “This is a lot to think about… Why would Dad want you to have a gun when you’re part of the investigation? What’s stopping him from using that against you?”
“That’s what I said to him. But he said it’s for our protection.”
She scoffed, sliding her arms tighter around her middle. Her left hand came to a stop right above her scars as she looked at me with unease.
“Listen.” I moved to the coffee table, allowing myself to be directly in front of her as I ducked my head to keep our gaze locked. “If you don’t want one in the apartment, it’s fine. I’ll tell your dad you aren’t comfortable.”
“No… No, it’s okay. The lessons at the shooting range would be a waste of time otherwise. And the protection might be worthit with all things considered…” Her next question was asked carefully. “Have you ever had to use one before?”
“I haven’t shot anyone, if that’s what you mean,” I said gently, edging closer to her. As close as the edge of the coffee table allowed.
She only nodded. Her hands curled against her sides as she remained quiet.
“You okay?”
