2. Henry

2

HENRY

L ana D'Amato is a vision in black, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, those amber brown eyes sharp as ever. Even surrounded by the chaos of cops invading her space, she exudes an irreverent and icy confidence that's both infuriating and captivating. She's young, maybe mid-twenties, and yet she shows no fear. We're like annoying gnats she'll squash, not police who'll put her in jail.

"We're doing our jobs," Hartley says curtly.

"You're doing someone's job," she quips.

It takes a moment, but I realize she thinks we're associated with another Mafia Family. The barb bugs me. A lot. I'm no saint, but I believe in the law, and I use it to serve for good, not to help the bad.

"This must be getting tedious even for you. Unless, of course, you're stalking me."

She'd made a similar comment in jest when we first met in her office several days ago.

I smirk, enjoying her banter even as I know it's dangerous. She's beautiful, smart, and brave. She looks at me in a way that I think she respects me even if she hates my job. Hartley, on the other hand, she looks at him like he's lower than pond scum.

"No stalking. It's your behavior that has brought me here." I lean closer. "Perhaps you want to see me," I banter back. This is the same dance we moved to the first time we met. It's inappropriate, and yet… exciting.

She laughs, and even with the condescending tone to it, there's a musicality. "Not in this or any lifetime, Detective."

I turn away from Lana, nodding to Peter. We walk a few paces from the scene, out of earshot.

"What do you think?" Peter asks, his eyes never leaving the D'Amato warehouse.

"Same old song and dance. We have to remember that this isn't their first rodeo. They were raised in this life. They're good at covering their tracks."

Peter's jaw clenches. "How do they do it? They wave crime like a banner under our noses and get away with it. Not just this, but murder too. They're responsible, Henry. I know it in my gut. My father didn't just die for nothing."

I've heard this a hundred times before, but the raw pain in Peter's voice still hits me. His father was a good cop, one of the best. His murder three years ago rocked the department, and it's been eating at Peter ever since.

Peter is convinced the D'Amatos were the ones who killed his father, but there is no proof. So, Peter's relying on other crimes to put them away. I can't blame him. The law doesn't always work the way it should.

"Look, I believe you," I say, trying to sound reassuring. "But we need more than just a hunch. We need solid evidence."

Peter's eyes flash with anger. "Evidence? They're criminals, Henry! Every breath they take is a crime against this city. My father knew it, and they killed him for it."

I hold up my hands, placating. "I know, I know. And I'm with you on this. We'll get them, eventually. But we have to do it right, or they'll slip through our fingers."

Peter nods, but he doesn't relax. The tension remains in his shoulders, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. His obsession with bringing down the D'Amatos has only grown stronger over the years. The intensity of it had his last partner asking for a change. I can handle him, but sometimes, I worry about how far he'll go to get justice.

I turn back to Lana, my eyes narrowing as I study her face. She's a puzzle I can't seem to crack, and it's driving me crazy that I want to, and not necessarily in an effort to protect and serve.

"It is strange how your warehouses keep attracting police attention."

She smirks. "Perhaps the police have nothing better to do than to harass law-abiding citizens."

"Law-abiding?"

"Prove otherwise, Detective," she challenges, her eyes gleaming with defiance.

"I'm going to take a look around," Peter says, heading to the warehouse without waiting for my response. I'm glad. Her attitude only keys him up.

She steps aside. "We keep an inventory. If something's missing, I'm billing the city."

I turn away to hide the upward twitch of my lips. How perverse of me to find her attitude compelling.

"So, what… you're guarding me? Worried I'll run off?" she says to me.

"Not at all. I can tell you're a woman who likes to face down her enemies."

Her lips quirk up. "Is that what we are, Hank? Enemies?"

I don't love the name Hank. "Henry or Detective Lutz." I can't fucking believe I just gave her permission to use my first name.

"Mmm, Henry." Her voice is smokey and sounds like she's savoring something rich and decadent. It makes my dick twitch.

The tension between us is palpable, crackling like electricity. I'm acutely aware of how close we are standing. But I can't let myself get distracted. This woman is dangerous, in more ways than one.

I look into her eyes, and I'm struck by the determination I see in them. She's a fortress, unyielding and impenetrable. The man in me wants to get inside her, not just physically but in her mind as well. The cop in me can't think like that.

I take a step back, trying to clear my head. This attraction, this pull toward her is a liability.

A moment later, Peter returns, his face the epitome of rage and frustration. "False alarm, Henry. Again." His eyes dart to Lana with barely concealed hatred.

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "I see. Well, Miss D'Amato, it seems you're in the clear. For now." All of a sudden, it feels too intimate to use her first name. Especially in front of Peter.

Lana's lips curve into that cold smile I've come to know. "It's Lana. Perhaps next time, you'll think twice before wasting everyone's time."

I clench my jaw because there's something about this that feels off. A nagging feeling settles in my gut. Have we been played? The anonymous call, the conveniently empty warehouse. Not once, but several times now. It reeks of a setup, perhaps another Family out to get hers.

Or someone in the PD is tipping her off and she's able to hide their crimes. I glance at Peter but quickly dismiss him as being in the D'Amatos' pockets. He hates them too much.

It's possible I've underestimated Lana D'Amato. She's cunning. She's certainly able to stay steps ahead of us.

My eyes follow her retreating figure. She's good, I'll give her that. But everyone slips up eventually. And when she does, I'll be there to catch her and put her in jail.

"Let's go, Peter." I slide into the driver's seat of our unmarked car.

Peter slams his door shut, making the vehicle shake. Before I start the engine, he slams his fist into the dashboard. "Dammit, Henry! We're getting nowhere with these bastards!"

I sigh. "Easy, partner. We'll get them. It just takes time." I've been at this game longer than him. Over time, a good detective needs to develop patience.

Peter's laugh is hollow. "Time? It's been three years since they killed my father. How much more time do we need?"

I pull the car away from the warehouse. As we head back to the station, I mull over our situation. The D'Amatos are slippery, no doubt about it. Every lead we follow is a dead end. Every search comes up empty. It's like trying to catch smoke with our bare hands.

But it's not just the case that worries me. It's Peter. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, noting the tension in his jaw. This obsession is eating him alive. Perhaps he shouldn't be on the case, although I can't imagine anyone being able to keep him away from it.

I want justice for his father as much as anyone. He'd been a good cop. Decent. Well respected.

"Look, Peter, I know you're frustrated. Hell, I am too. But we can't let them get to us like this."

"They're laughing at us, Henry. Every time we show up, it's like we're the punchline to their sick joke."

I nod, understanding his frustration all too well. "I know. But we'll get them. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but we will. The D'Amatos aren't invincible. They'll slip up eventually, and when they do, we'll be there."

Peter's shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him. "You really believe that?"

"I do," I say firmly. "We just need to stay focused, stay smart."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Thank you. I appreciate your having my back."

"Of course. We'll get justice for your dad. I promise you that."

"I need you to keep having my back on this."

Automatically, I nod, because of course, any cop would have his back. Then again, his last partner felt Peter was too intense. I don't want to support his falling into a black hole of obsession and anger. He needs a hobby. Or maybe to get laid.

I can't help with either of those, but I can get him a drink and hang out. "Look, we're off the clock now. How about a beer? Let off a little steam."

"Yeah, okay. We'll get those motherfuckers another day."

My mind drifts to Lana, picturing her in jail. It's a fucking shame. In a different world, I would ask her out despite her being so much younger than me. She's a sexy, smart, beguiling woman. Or maybe it's my dry spell with women that has me so enchanted by her.

Later that night, I replay the search, looking for any tells or slip ups from Lana's comments. There's still something not right about this whole thing, and I can't help thinking I'm enmeshed in some twisted game.