Page 17 of Mafia Scars

“Amelia Taylor, we just closed an eighteen-month long investigation. We have to celebrate.” He beamed, still holding me after he set me down.

“Yes. It does deserve celebration,” I agreed with a smile.

He looked me over and shook his head. “You busted your ass on this case. I got a bullet in my chest and lived to tell the tale. Why are you not happier about this?”

“I am,” I tried. I might have sounded ecstatic if I didn’t know that there was more to the investigation than what we’d just closed.

Also, I had to wonder if Demarco’s death was Luc’s doing. It was weird. We’d tried to track down this guy and his minions that whole time, never getting close to him at all. Then Luc came on the scene, and that’s it. Demarco practically got handed to us on a platter, and the way I heard it was, Roose was called in to come and pick him up.

“Let’s go out later. To dinner or something. We can go to that burger place you like.” Sinclaire beamed, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, let’s.”

“Hey, if there’s talk of food, we’re in,” Holloway interrupted at the door. Jefferson followed.

I noticed the slightly defeated look on Sinclaire’s face. It seemed he was hoping for the celebration to be just the two of us.

The rest of the day was easy. We tied up a few loose ends and did paperwork. While the case was practically wrapped up, we agreed that we needed to still bring in Montgomery. Plus, there was still the issue of the rat amongst us. I had no thoughts on who it could be. The guys however thought it was Luc.

With all that had happened with him he was the obvious choice, and there was nothing I could say or do to refute the belief. What I did however decide to do was have an open mind, and not trust anyone.

At six, we left the station and headed to Greasy’s, my favorite burger place.

The name sounded vile, but I swore they had the very best burgers I’d ever tasted. They were of the good old-fashioned meaty type, and they did chili curly fries.

I ordered a feast.

Sinclaire and the others ordered triple what I ordered and gobbled it down.

“I’m going to hurl,” Holloway mused, pressing his thin lips together. His face was red like fire.

“Don’t you dare, man. Don’t be a pansy in front of the lady,” Jefferson taunted.

“You made him eat too much,” Sinclaire said, throwing a fry at Jefferson, who caught it with his mouth and laughed.

I’d forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with the guys.

It was nice that they were themselves around me and didn’t modify their behavior for me.

They started arguing about how much Holloway had eaten. While they did that, I allowed my mind to drift away.

Drift to Luc, drift to my father, drift to the situation I knew was waiting to come to a bursting point.

Nearly a month had passed since I’d found out what was really going on. Yet nothing more had happened. It didn’t mean that it was going to stay that way.

The rat at the station had to do with me; it all had to do with me. Finding out who I was to get to my father.

Normally I thought, in cases like this, I’d be dead already, but I was being kept alive.

My thoughts ran over eating with Luc at the Italian restaurant just before we’d gone to watch the ballet. Until we discovered that someone was watching us, that night had been magical.

I’d enjoyed every minute I spent with Luc.

Now I had to wonder if any of that had been real. He said it was real for him. It was real for me, and I’d allowed myself to feel for him. I’d opened my heart to a man I couldn’t be with.

Imagine the lifestyle I’d have with him. Knowing he’d killed people, knowing more would be dead if they crossed him the wrong way. I’d shot a few people before, but it was in self-defense. None of them had died. I didn’t know what it was like to actually kill a person. Take their life away from them.

As a cop I knew that if it came down to it, I’d have to, and the way I’d been acting during my time as an officer was probably dangerous. Sometimes you had to take people down to protect yourself and others.