Page 28 of The Mobster’s Daughter (Massachusetts Mafia #2)

Caitlin

S hortly after two a.m., Caitlin heard a light tap at her door. She slung the hotel gift shop tote she’d purchased earlier over her shoulder and opened the door a crack.

Grady held a finger to his lips and gestured for her to follow him.

She had to step over the guard sprawled in the hallway, slumped against the wall unconscious.

She looked questioningly at Grady’s back, then hurried to catch up with him.

Caitlin slipped into the elevator beside him and waited for the doors to close.

“What did you do to that guy?” she asked.

“Hit him over the head,” he said with a shrug.

“He should be out for a while. Or long enough for us to get out of the hotel. I need you to listen carefully. I got a car; it was delivered an hour ago. It’s a dark blue Mercedes S580 with the valet.

Once we’re in the lobby, I want you to wait until I give you the all-clear.

I think your father has men posted down there.

If they see you, they will drag your ass back upstairs. We have to be caref ul. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“If someone stops you, tell them you couldn’t sleep, so you’re going for a walk or something,” he continued. “That’s why I told you to wear pajamas. I don’t want it to look like you’re trying to s neak out.”

Her stomach twisted and turned. She was sick of the subterfuge, the dishonesty, all of it. The last thing she wanted to do was intentionally disobey her father or get Grady in trouble, but she had been pushed beyond reasonable exp ectations.

“Caitlin?”

“Hm?”

He inched closer. “What ’s wrong?”

She signed and sagged against the wall. “I’m tired. I want this to be over so I can go back to my life. Is that too muc h to ask?”

Grady brushed her hair away from her face. “You want to go back to life in New York? Law school, parties, dumb bo yfriends?”

Caitlin stared up at him. “No, I don’t want to run anymore.”

“Then you should go home with your father. You’ll be safe. Protected. Let me han dle this.”

She shook her head. “I need to do this. I’m sick of other people controlling my life, telling me what to do, what to say, how to act. This is the only way out. This is the only way it w ill end.”

He kissed her: one hand on her waist, the other sliding around the back of her neck to pull her close. When the kiss was over, he rested his forehead against hers wi th a sigh.

“Caitlin—”

Her voice shook as she spoke. “This will never work, will it? You and me , I mean.”

He didn’t answer her because the elevator opened. Grady released her and stepped out, looking both directions before he gestured for her to f ollow him.

He hurried down the hall while she hung back and stopped at the front desk, talking to the woman behind the counter.

She burst out laughing, which made Grady smile.

A knot of jealousy coiled in Caitlin’s gut.

While she seethed at the sight of him flirting with another woman, he turned to look at her and pointed over his shoulder.

Caitlin nodded and headed for the door. She saw the Mercedes through the large glas s windows.

Across the lobby, a small, wiry guy stood in the corner, watching everything.

Caitlin recognized him; he was one of Declan’s men.

She didn’t know his first name, but his last name was Murphy.

She stepped behind a wide pillar, afraid he would see her.

She then glanced at the counter, but Grady was no longer there, and neither was the woman.

He appeared at her side instantly, grabbed her arm, and peered around the pillar. Caitlin didn’t know what he was waiting for, but it must have happened because they suddenly moved, hurrying through the lobby. She saw the woman from the counter talking to Murphy. Distra cting him.

They darted out the door, hurrying to the valet. He handed over the keys, and they got in the car. It wasn’t until they pulled into traffic that Caitlin relaxed.

“Did you know that woman?” she asked after a fe w minutes.

“Wh at woman?”

“The one at the counter who distracted Murphy,” she explained.

Grady snorted. “No. I told her he was your ex-husband, and you wanted to get out of the hotel without him seeing you. She was more than happy to help.”

“It looked like you were flirting with her,” sh e mumbled.

“Were you jealous?”

She clenched her fists in her lap. “Maybe,” she responded. “I don’t know. I know I didn’t appre ciate it.”

He glanced at her before turning his eyes back to the road. “It was what it was. I got what I needed from her.”

Caitlin rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to think about him flirting with someone to get what he needed or him doing anything with anybody because she hated it.

Not that she had any right to dislike anything he did with any woman. He didn’t belo ng to her.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a fe w minutes.

“I know somebody,” h e replied.

Caitlin laughed. “Of cours e you do.”

Grady chuckled. “Yeah, of course I do. We’re meeting them i n Jersey.”

It didn’t take long to arrive there in the middle of the night. They parked next to a Waffle House in God-only-knew what part of Jersey at five minutes after three. Before they went in, he took a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Here. In case we get s eparated.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Inside the restaurant, most of the tables were empty, except for one in the front surrounded by a bunch of construction workers.

Grady nodded at the waitress leaning on the counter, then he headed for the back.

He stopped in front of a booth occupied by an older woman with short gray hair reading a magazine.

When she saw him, she dropped her glasses on the table and jumped to her feet.

“Grady!” She bounced on her toes as she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek with a loud smack, her exuberance rolling off her in waves.

She released him, stepped back, and checked him out from head to toe.

“You haven’t changed one bit. Still a handsome fucker.

” She laughed as she sat down. “ Sit, sit.”

Caitlin slid into the booth, Grady right b ehind her.

The woman propped her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands, and stared at Caitlin with narrowed eyes. “She looks like Maeve,” she pronounced. “Is this Olivia or Caitlin?”

“Francine, this is Caitlin,” Grady said. “Caitlin, Francine Goldberg, friend, confidant, also the baddest bitc h I know.”

Francine giggled and slapped him on the arm. “You’re too sweet. Stop it.”

The waitress appeared at the table with three plates of waffles. She set them down, along with napkin-wrapped silverware. She picked up a bottle of syrup from one of the other tables, dropped it with a clunk, and left.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Francine said. She pointed to a carafe next to Grady’s elbow. “I ordered cof fee, too.”

Caitlin hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until the stack of waffles sat in front of her. She slathered butter over the stack and drowned them in syrup.

“Alright, Grady, what was the dire emergency that required me to drag my ass out of bed in the middle of the night?” Francine said. “You know I don’t want to get up once I’m asleep.” She wink ed at him.

Caitlin bit her lip, holding back the biting comment she wanted to make. Who the hell was this woman to Grady?

He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip before he spoke, taking his time, as if he was trying to figure out how to ask his question. “The Bratva. What do you know ab out them?”

Francine stopped with a forkful of waffle halfway to her mouth. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, ” he said.

“Please tell me you are not involved with the Russians. They are fucking crazy. It’s best if you stay as far away from them as possible.”

“It’s too late,” Caitlin in terjected.

Francine set her fork carefully on the table. She pushed a hand through her short gray hair, sighed, and then wiped her mouth with t he napkin.

“What do you mean, it’s too late?” she aske d quietly.

Caitlin glanced at Grady, only to find him looking at her. She gave him a curt nod. He explained their situation to Francine.

“Jesus Christ,” Francine muttered when he was finished.

“I told you, they’re crazy.” She exhaled.

“Okay, fine. Here’s what I can tell you.

Chertok is a minor player, a distant cousin to Dmitry Sokolov, the head of the Bratva on the East Coast. Lev’s been trying to make a name for himself in New York, but he hasn’t had much luck. Dmitry keeps him on a sho rt leash.”

“So, is he doing this to impress Dmitry?” Gr ady asked.

“That’s my guess,” Francine said. “Lev has always felt like he deserves more, but no one else does. He’s kind of the bratty younger brother who never gets his way but will do anything for a ttention.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Caitlin inquired. “The Russian s I mean.”

Francine raised an eyebrow and looked at Grady. “You didn’t tell her?”

He shook his head. “Not my story.”

“I was in the FBI,” Francine explained to her. “For twenty-five years. For a long time, I was undercover as the girlfriend of a … well, a prominent member of the Bratva. I know everything about them. Everything . I got out less than a year ago.”

“Can you get us a meeting with Dmitry?” Grady in terjected.

Francine rubbed her eyes. “Probably. But I n eed time.”

“We can’t wait,” Cai tlin said.

“Okay. Let me see what I can do.” Francine slid out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.” As she walked away, she pulled a cell phone from h er pocket.

Caitlin waited until she rounded the corner before she turned to Grady. “How the hell do you know an F BI agent?”

“I know a lot of people, Cait,” he replied. “I’ve known Francine since we were kids. She grew up down the street from me. I maintained that connection after she joined the FBI. In my line of work, it pays to be friendly with people in law enf orcement.”