Page 34 of Mafia Scars

The woman was fierce and took any help she got from local police when the big criminals came about.

I met her in my second year of joining the force, and then I thought to use the resources at my fingertips to do some research on my father.

He’d come up on the feds’ hit list a number of times, especially back in the eighties, but there was never enough evidence to get him. Always, which suggested he had control over people in high places who could tamper with evidence and make certain things disappear.

It all helped him make his fortune.

Money, power, practical invincibility.

If Luc took the lead on thebusiness, he’d have that too.

Why would he give that up for me?

“It could be a lie,” I repeated more to myself than to Gigi.

“Really? Is that what you truly feel?” She inclined her head to the side and gave me a knowing look, which said she knew I didn’t fully believe that.

“I don’t want to, but I’d be stupid not to consider it.”

“Do what your heart tells you.”

I smirked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Gigi, I can’t just be with Luc. I’m a cop. I stop bad guys, and I’m supposed to stand for truth and justice.”

“What’s the definition of bad?”

“If he works for my father, then he’s bad news. Sinclaire found all that stuff on him too.”

“Sinclaire?”she asked with distaste.

“It was all true things.” I’d met Luc as Luc Smith, not as Lucian Morientz.

Sinclaire had found out that not only had he used a dead person’s social security number, but there were issues around fraud, racketeering and, surprise, surprise, money laundering.

“And my father used to be a big-time drug dealer, went to juvi, then prison, was inside many times for armed robbery and then manslaughter. But he changed.” Gigi added.

“Exactly, he changed. He took steps to change. Luc telling me that he wants me is not changing.”

“Amelia, if he wants to be with you, I think he would know that he’d have to not be a criminal to make that happen.” She nodded and looked at me as if that was so obvious.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. What did I say to that?

Any answer I was going to give was interrupted when the kitchen door opened and a handsome dark-haired Italian man with olive skin walked in wearing a leather jacket.

That’s when my mouth dropped.

Gigi jumped up out of her chair and grabbed the rolling pin from the holder on the counter.

My gun, where was it?

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just coming in to make breakfast.” He smirked and held his hands up.

“Who the hell are you?” I balked, now standing up.

Shit, I was still in just the damn dressing gown, the flimsy, skimpy dressing gown.