14. Henry

14

HENRY

I slide into the passenger seat of Lana's Aston Martin, intrigued and a little more than happy at her invitation for a late-night drive. The truth is, as hard as the evening has been with our butting heads, I don't want it to end.

As she pulls away from the curb, I study her profile in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. She's a stunning woman. Confident, smart, and assertive, and yet at times, vulnerable.

She navigates the car through the busy streets in silence. But it's not awkward. In fact, that crazy electric charge that zaps between us is still palpable. I don't know where she's taking me, but I'm more curious than nervous about where we're going. She's not planning to kill me. At least, I'm pretty sure she's not.

I'm tempted to break the comfortable quiet and ask where we're headed, but something tells me to let this mysterious journey unfold. There's an intimacy to this quiet moment that I'm reluctant to disrupt.

Lana steers the car onto Northerly Island and pulls into a spot facing the city skyline, kills the engine, and turns off the headlights.

The sudden darkness envelops us, broken only by the distant twinkling of Chicago's lights across the water.

In the dim light, I can just make out Lana's silhouette beside me. The city's glow casts a soft illumination on her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the glint in her eyes as she gazes out at the view. She almost looks ethereal, like a vision. It makes my insides ache. I'm captivated by this woman, helplessly caught by some invisible tether pulling me to her.

Does she feel it too? She must. How many times had she started to leave our dinner, only to stay? And like me, she knows whatever this is between us can't ever work. In fact, we're likely to end up destroying each other. Either her being with me will be a danger to her from those in her business, or my being with her will bring about my professional demise. And yet, here I sit, mesmerized by her.

I wonder what thoughts are running through Lana's mind as she stares out at the city lights. Is she grappling with the risks our being together creates? Is she thinking about her brother? About our investigation?

She breaks the silence. "It looks different from here, doesn't it?"

"It does." I wonder what she'd think if she knew I was talking about her and not the view of the city.

I glance over at her. She seems lost in thought. I'm tempted to ask what's on her mind, but something holds me back. This moment feels fragile, and I don't want to break it by saying something that will upset her.

Instead, I turn my gaze back to the skyline, allowing Lana the space to process whatever thoughts are occupying her. Perhaps we're at a turning point. A point that I should reflect on as well. Just days ago, I saw Lana as nothing more than a target for my investigation. Now, I see the complex woman behind the D'Amato name. Not just strong and beautiful, but a woman who deeply loves her family, is fiercely loyal and protective of them. All good qualities.

She asked if cops saw her family as monsters, and the truth is, yes. Or at least unredeemable sociopaths. It's how we view most criminals. I mean, bad things are done by bad people, right?

I know it's not that black and white. I've certainly had to arrest people who deep down were good but got caught up in something that took them down a bad path. It's harder to go after people you can empathize with, and that's where my shift in perspective with Lana becomes dangerous. Her family makes a living in crime. They're not caught up. They're driving it forward. And yet here I am, seeing the nuances of this fascinating woman and wanting to delve deeper, to know her better.

"Lazaro and I used to come here all the time." Lana's voice breaks through the stillness, soft and tinged with nostalgia.

I turn to look at her, surprised she's offering information about Lazaro without my asking. "Really?"

A faint smile plays on her lips. "Yeah. This was our secret spot. We'd sneak out here whenever things got too intense at home."

I can picture a younger Lana and Lazaro, seeking refuge in this peaceful place. It makes me wonder how much danger she was exposed to growing up.

"The first time we came here, we'd just turned fourteen. He stole a car from one of our father's associates and convinced me to sneak out for a joyride."

I laugh. "Fourteen? That's pretty brazen."

She laughs softly with me. "Yeah, well, that was Lazaro. He loved cars from a young age. He hot-wired the car like it was nothing and drove us here. I was terrified and exhilarated at the same time."

I shake my head, amused by their youthful rebelliousness. "I'm surprised you went along with it."

"Are you kidding? Lazaro was my other half, and I was his. Yin to Yang, you know. I wanted to experience life and have fun like him, but he needed my more grounded ways."

As she recounts their adventure, I smile, imagining a young Lana and Lazaro, hearts racing with the thrill of their escape. I'd had a few adventures myself as a kid, although never one involving stealing a car.

"We got caught, of course," Lana adds with a rueful grin. "But it was worth it."

"The owner didn't press charges?" I ask.

She smirks at me. "He was an associate, so no."

"Ah." I suppose a Mafia business associate won't go against the boss. Or… should I say organized crime associate since she told me they didn't use Mafia?

"After that, we'd find any excuse to come back here," she continues. Her smile falters, and I feel a downward shift in the atmosphere.

"It wasn't always fun and games, though. One night, when we were about sixteen, we came here with Lazaro's new car… this car."

I sense her pain, but is it from being in her lost brother's car or the story she's telling?

I remain silent, giving her space to continue.

"A group of older boys showed up. They'd been drinking, and when they saw the car, they were assholes like boys with hard-ons for cars can be. But then they saw me…"

My stomach clenches at all the possibilities of where this story can go.

"They started making crude comments, getting too close. I was terrified." She glances at me. "Does that surprise you that I'd be afraid?"

I shake my head. "No. Why would it?"

"I imagine you think we're always carrying a gun and welcome violence."

I shake my head and hate that my impression that this story was going to be painful is right.

"Lazaro, of course, he didn't hesitate." She turns to look at me, her eyes shining in the dim light. "You have to understand, Henry. Lazaro was always protective of me. Those boys were pawing and groping, making lewd comments."

My fists clench in my lap. I hope Lazaro wiped the pavement with them.

"Something snapped in Lazaro. He went after them like a wild animal. He didn't care that they were bigger, older, or that he was outnumbered. He fought like… like he had nothing to lose."

I can picture it vividly, a young Lazaro, driven by fury and the need to protect his sister, taking on a group of older boys without a second thought.

"By the time it was over, two of them were unconscious, and the others had run off. Lazaro was bleeding, bruised, but he just turned to me and asked if I was okay. He didn't care about his own injuries at all."

My initial thoughts and feelings are all cheering Lazaro on. But then I realize that Lana's crusade to find her brother isn't that different from his protecting her. Sure, she's not having to beat anyone up, but the fierce protective instinct is there.

"Did you come back again?" I ask gently.

She nods. "I didn't want to, although I didn't come out and tell him I was afraid. But he knew. He told me no one would fuck with us again. And they didn't. I always wondered if he did something or had our dad do something to insure our safety."

"Like what?"

She arches a brow.

I shake my head. "I'm not trying to get something incriminating. I'm just… curious."

She sighs. "My family carries a certain amount of respect and influence."

I wait for her to say more, but she doesn't. I can read between the lines. "I guess those kids didn't know who you were or who your father was."

"They certainly knew who Lazaro was after that. It's where the myth of his feral, untamable behavior came from." Her smile is bittersweet. Her connection to Lazaro is more than just sibling love. It's a deeper, spiritual link. It must be the thing that has her believing he's still alive.

"Every time we came back, it was like reclaiming a piece of ourselves," Lana says, her gaze drifting back to the skyline. "This place became a symbol of our unity, our strength together. No matter what happened in our lives, we always had this."

I'm moved by her words, struck by the intimacy of what she's sharing. That she's sharing it with me. I see now that she's a far cry from the ice princess she portrays to the world. This is a woman shaped by love, loyalty, and an unbreakable bond with her twin.

A single tear glistens on Lana's cheek. Instinctively, I brush the tear away with my thumb. Lana startles slightly at my touch, as if suddenly remembering my presence.

Her eyes meet mine.

"Why did you share that with me?"

Lana takes a shaky breath, seeming to gather herself. She looks away for a moment, like she feels she's revealed too much.

When she turns back to me, there's a new resolve in her expression. "I wanted you to understand, to see Lazaro the way I do. Not as some violent criminal, but as my protector, my other half. There's more to him than what's in your case files."

She speaks about him in present tense, so convinced he's still alive. But if that's the case and they're so close, why is he staying away?

"Lana? Would he stay away to protect you?"

She blinks as my question sinks in. "What do you mean?"

I shift, turning my upper body to better face her. "It sounds like he felt… or feels the same about you as you do about him. Otherwise, why risk getting your ass kicked?"

Her lips twitch upward.

"If that's the case and he's out there, why isn't he contacting you?"

Her eyes harden. "Are you going to tell me you think looking for him is a waste of time too? That he's dead? Even if he is dead, I want to?—"

"No, sweetheart." I press my fingers to her lips to stop her. "I mean, maybe he's staying away on purpose. To protect you. Would he do that?"

My question takes her off guard. "I don't know. Maybe." Her fingers grip the lapel of my coat, her eyes looking into mine for a glimmer of hope. "Do you think that's the case?"

I take her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. I do it without even thinking or considering the ramifications. "I don't know. But like I said, I look at all possibilities."

She bites her lip as she gazes out the window again. I miss her closeness and want to pull her near again, but I don't.

"He's loyal. Fiercely protective. Not just of me, but of our whole family. Everything he's done, it's been out of love and a desire to keep us safe. Maybe… maybe he'd stay away if it meant we'd be safer. There is more to him than anyone is willing to see… to consider."

She turns to me again, her eyes full of pleading. "Can you give Lazaro the effort and consideration he deserves? To look deeper, to see the man behind the reputation?"

I nod. In that moment, I'd give her the fucking moon if I could. I feel her plea deep in my soul, and all I want to do is soothe her pain.

I reach out to her, cradling her cheek. Her skin is soft under my touch. "I promise I will do everything in my power to find Lazaro."

Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability that makes my heart ache. I've never seen her like this before, so open and unguarded.

"I can't make any guarantees about what we'll find," I continue, wanting to be honest with her. "But I swear to you, I'll look into every lead, turn over every stone. I'll do whatever it takes to uncover the truth about what happened to your brother."

She studies me as if she's seeking the truth of my words. They are the truth. I hope she can see that.

"Thank you, Henry. You don't know what this means to me."

In this moment, with the city lights twinkling in front of us and Lana's warmth beneath my hand, I realize just how deeply I've fallen. I close the distance between us. My lips meet hers softly at first, tentative and questioning. She responds, melting into me, the kiss deepening. It's nothing like our first encounter, which was all heat and desperation. This is slower, more intimate, filled with a tenderness that catches me off guard.

My hand, still cradling her cheek, slides into her hair, pulling her closer. I taste the salt of her tears on her lips, a reminder of the raw emotion she's just shared with me. It makes me want to hold her tighter, to shield her from the pain she's been carrying for so long.

Something shifts inside me. The walls I've built, the professional distance I've tried to maintain, they all come crumbling down. In this moment, I'm not Detective Henry Lutz, and she's not Lana D'Amato, a member of a crime family I'm investigating. We're just Henry and Lana, two people finding peace and solace in each other's arms.

I know I should pull away, that I'm again crossing a line. But with Lana's warmth against me and the taste of her on my lips, I don't care. For once, I let myself forget about the case, about my duty, about everything except the woman in my arms.