Page 6 of Sin City Obsession (De Salvo Empire #1)

She began alternating between finger-fucking and almost roughly circling her clit, her head thrown back as she lost herself to her own pleasure. Her soft moaning turned to gasping, and then, finally, she called out his name as her body trembled with release.

It might only have been in his imagination, but it was enough. The orgasm he’d been fighting off ripped out of him and Rocco leaned a little more into the arm he’d been using to brace himself. Slowly, he let the shirt fall from between his teeth.

He’d really just jacked off in the bathroom at work, at barely six-thirty in the morning. Because of a woman he wasn’t even supposed to want.

Rocco heaved another breath. “Fuck.”

Ignazio met her in the lobby just minutes after Rocco took his leave, and Alessa was grateful for it. Rocco was a distraction she couldn’t afford. He confused her in too many ways. Ignazio did not give off the same vibe, and the sight of him sharpened her focus .

Ignazio inclined his head in greeting, but didn’t bother with the superfluous words when he spoke. “You should have an email with two lists. I sent it before heading over.”

Alessa blinked once, then dug into her pocket for her phone. “Lists?” She pulled up her email before he could answer and saw that she did, in fact, have something new.

“Known local money schemers, primarily loan sharks, who’ve been on the scene at any time in the past four years.

Including the ones currently behind bars who might still have some pull.

The list is color-coded to separate the names who are dead now, but might have living heirs or knowledgeable former employees. ”

She identified which list he was referring to easily enough.

It was labeled The Usual Suspects . Alessa grinned as she tapped to download it onto her phone.

She hadn’t pegged him for a sense of humor, subtle or otherwise.

When the list opened, she glanced back up at him.

“That’s more than a few names. Did you get any sleep? ”

He grunted and motioned for them to start walking. “The nerd team compiled both lists yesterday, while you were in the air, and forwarded them to me after I was assigned to you.”

Well. Maybe she’d been right about his sense of humor, after all. But his point makes sense. She let it go and switched to the other list, the name of which she promptly read out loud. “‘Check the Wool?’”

Ignazio shrugged subtly and said, “The second list is of those outside the family we think are least likely to be responsible. No one’s ruling them out, but they don’t seem like the best place to waste energy off the bat. ”

Alessa opened the file after it downloaded and realized quickly what he meant, and what the name of the list referenced.

It was a suggestion of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Someone in their tech department liked word games.

She gave the list a once-over as they made their way to a car, unsurprised to note the inclusion of several celebrities with a known presence in Las Vegas.

That was fine. She wasn’t there to play tourist, no matter how much her mother would have loved for her to get an Osmond’s autograph.

Rocco’s words flashed through her mind and Alessa quickly closed out of the list to tuck away her phone, as if it could read her mind. He hadn’t really meant he wanted to show her the city and they both knew it.

She still couldn’t believe she’d tossed his suggestion back at him, though.

“We can arrange a prison visit as early as tomorrow,” Ignazio said, “if you want to talk to sharks on the inside who weren’t locked up back then.” He pulled open the passenger door of their designated SUV for her. “Your call.”

Alessa dragged her focus back to the moment with a silent curse in Rocco’s general direction. “Are they all in the same prison?” She climbed obediently into the SUV, and when Ignazio opted to shut the door and walk around before answering, she chose to take another look at The Usual Suspects .

As he’d said, there were color indicators for about half a dozen, with secondary names attached to most of those. What there was not, was a third color to indicate which names on the list were currently behind bars .

“The ones on the list,” Ignazio said after pulling his own door shut.

Alessa looked up at him, and when he didn’t add more, she replayed her question to him in her mind.

Then she frowned. “Okay, your guys only listed the usurers in the closest prison. I get that.” She waved her phone for unnecessary emphasis.

“But unless all these names marked as living are in jail, in the same jail no less, there needs to be more clarification here. I don’t have any way of magically inferring whether”—she looked at the screen again—“Philip Patrick is in jail or on the street. And now I need to take time to sort that out.”

“Jail,” Ignazio said. He rolled the engine over without waiting for her to buckle in. “The first page is the prisoners.”

Alessa quickly buckled, not looking to get either of them in an unnecessarily awkward situation, before examining the list again.

She hadn’t realized when she’d skimmed it before, but the first page of the four was visually the shortest. “Okay. That’s useful.

” She scrunched up her face and scrolled slower through pages two, three, and four.

“I think I’d prefer to start with the names who’ve been active the entire time.

Guys who’ve worked out a system and probably have their hooks into multiple people.

” She lowered the phone again and glanced toward her temporary partner.

“You know, the type who don’t balk at large loans over long stretches of time, or sending bruisers across the country. ”

Ignazio responded by switching on the blinker and changing lanes. “You’re in charge.”

Alessa shifted her gaze out the windshield. She was going to try to trust Ignazio, and the Cavallos, but she wasn’t going to be blindly chauffeured around the entire time she was in Vegas. “Great. But you realize I don’t know which of these names those are, let alone where to find them.”

“Might as well start here. I’ll text the nerds to get the rest.” He was already swinging into a parking lot that looked like a small, run-down shopping center.

The building itself was just a single strip of architecture, not even L-shaped, and only four logos identified the separation of the interior spaces.

Alessa waited until the SUV was parked before asking, “Care to tell me which name we’re paying a visit to?”

“Top of page two,” Ignazio replied.

She swept her thumb over the screen on her phone and bit down on her cheek.

No one was thrilled with this job, she supposed.

And maybe Ignazio just wasn’t that charming.

So she memorized the name, locked her phone, and stepped in synch with him from the SUV.

It was unlikely she would have the luck of striking gold on her first try.

This one would be as much a learning experience for how well she could work with her assigned partner as it would anything else.

She led the way into the small corner shop Ignazio indicated, walked right past the early morning line, and leaned over the counter. “I need a word with your boss. Now.”

The woman at the desk gaped at her, going pale, and held up her hands in a show of surrender. “I-I don’t have access to the safe!”

Alessa narrowed her eyes. “Did I ask for the safe?”

Someone in a rent-a-cop security uniform stepped into her periphery, puffing out his doughy chest and resting a hand on his belt. The gesture was probably meant to be intimidating, but only served to emphasize the lack of a real gun in his holster. “There a problem?”

Alessa shifted her gaze to him. “Yeah. I have business with Mr. Murphy.”

“You can’t cut the line, lady!” one of the male customers snapped.

Alessa rolled her eyes, swept her middle finger in the grumbling male’s general direction, and shifted her focus back to the employee.

“Look, I’m not here to rob you. I have some very urgent business pertaining to a loan Murphy already negotiated.

He’s going to want to talk to me.” It was a bluff, of course.

Unless she was supremely lucky. But she didn’t give a shit if she had to lie a little to get her way.

It would be much easier, ultimately, than having to shoot her way inside. Particularly since this wasn’t Newark and she didn’t know how well she could rely on the local cleaners.

The blonde woman’s eyes widened. “O-oh, um…” She glanced at something on her desk and swallowed hard. “Mr. Murphy’s not in yet,” she said, quieter.

Alessa arched a brow. “Really? You don’t have access to the cash on-hand, yet you’re open for business, but your boss isn’t in?”

The woman’s face drained of all regained color.

Yep. Thought so. Alessa straightened. “Fine. If his money means so little to him, I guess me and all these witnesses get free hand-outs, then. Thanks for the gift.” She turned, fully willing to stride out the door.

Of course, the woman at the desk came to her senses first. “W-wait! He might have— That is, sometimes Mr. Murphy comes in through the back and doesn’t text me. He could be here. I-I’ll check!”

Uh-huh. Sure he does. Alessa obligingly adjusted to face the desk again, cocking her hip and folding her arms across her chest. “You do that.” The woman was probably only following orders, but Alessa’s sympathy was low.

The least either of these idiots could do was come up with a believable story that didn’t fall apart the moment someone asked a second question.

Rent-a-Cop shuffled his weight as the desk manager disappeared into the back.

Ignazio moved to lean against the far wall, effectively framing the other man between them.

A couple of the waiting customers began to murmur, but no one spoke out again.

No one launched into a fit or drew a weapon.

And then the same woman emerged from the back, still looking flustered, and stepped up to stand beside her waiting chair.

She met Alessa’s stare with visible hesitation. “Mr. Murphy will see you.”

Alessa lifted her lips in a fake smile, dropped her arms to her sides, and strode forward. She made no move to open the partition, forcing Rent-a-Cop to let her in, and followed him down the hall behind the Employees Only door. Ignazio fell in behind her before the door could swing shut.

The visibly uncomfortable security guard narrowed his bushy brow at her when they reached the marked office door. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t try anything funny.”

“Like I said,” Alessa replied, keeping her tone calm, “this is business.” She didn’t bother articulating that she was about as afraid of him and his taser as she was of mice—which was to say, not at all. Instead, she let Ignazio get the door and dipped a hand into her pocket for her phone.

The registered business owner, Murphy, was staring across the room in their direction when she stepped inside.

He was already settled behind his desk, of course, and the open laptop and crumbs in front of him suggested he’d been there for more than a few minutes.

Not that Alessa had bought the story to begin with.

He squared his shoulders, the overhead light reflecting off his bifocals, and demanded, “Who the hell are you? I don’t remember doing business with you. ”

The door clicked behind her and Alessa moved forward. She drew up Wesley Richardson’s picture first, as he was the one their mystery target was supposedly after, and held her phone out close enough for Murphy to see. “Do you recognize this man?”

Murphy’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is this?”

“Answer the question, Murphy. You don’t want me making assumptions.” She kept her voice firm, but in her gut she didn’t believe she was in the right place. Still, no stone unturned and all that.

Murphy was silent for several long seconds, supposedly scrutinizing the photo. “There’s nothing much remarkable about him. He looks like every other desperate, pompous jackass who comes in here. Why?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Murphy tilted his head to glare around her phone. “ No , you obnoxious brat, I do not recognize that man. Why ?”

Alessa held her tongue, swiped to the computer rendering Brandi had generated of Ralph George, and turned the image outward again. “What about this one?”

“Oh for—”

Alessa leaned forward, resting her free palm on the desk and pushing her phone closer to Murphy’s face.

“Look closely, Mr. Murphy. I won’t ask again, and it’s real important you answer honestly here.

Think carefully now. Do you recognize this man?

His name is Ralph George. I’m looking for his employer. ”

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Murphy’s face and he studied her phone again. “I … I might recognize this one, vaguely.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you who he works for.”

“Can’t?” Alessa tilted her head to emphasize the question. “Or won’t?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes again, anger retaking him.

“ Can’t , dammit! Look, I don’t have a good association with that face, but I’m not sure I would have remembered his name if you hadn’t said it and I definitely never knew who held his leash.

” He sucked in a hard breath. “If you want to know more about that kind of guy, you need to be talking to the people he dealt with.”

“Being?”

He dipped his head enough that the glasses slid faintly down his nose. “Really?”

Alessa tucked her phone away, scooted Murphy’s nameplate aside, and rested her butt on the edge of his desk like she had all the time in the world to continue their chat.

“Explain it to me like I’m in grade school.

Where would you, a man of experience in this field, go searching for information on Ralph George? ”

Murphy let out an aggravated sigh, adjusted his glasses, and slumped back in his seat.

“West Las Vegas is your best bet,” he said with a disdainful curl of his lip.

“You could try Buffalo if that doesn’t pan out.

” He adjusted in his chair. “I don’t recommend strolling through those neighborhoods with anything of value on your person, or in a vehicle you want to keep.

Now, if you don’t mind, get the fuck out of my office. ”