6. Henry

6

HENRY

I 'll be honest, Lana's answer could have gone either way. She's good at hiding her emotions, but I've been studying her for months now. I can see the internal struggle playing out behind those amber eyes. She's curious about what I know but suspicious of my intent. I have a strange feeling of guilt because my intentions aren't just about Lazaro. That guilt is worse after seeing the split-second hopefulness in her expression. She might be a Mafia princess who's committed who knows how many crimes, but her love for her brother is real and it feels like shit to take advantage of that.

But in the end, she agreed. I trot to my car to meet her at the restaurant I know her family owns, her attempt to maintain control of the situation. I like her fire. Her intelligence. I like her more than I should, and I have a bad feeling that I'm playing with fire. I remind myself that I'm trying to solve a crime… two or three of them, as it turns out. If having dinner with her gets me the information I need to bring down the D'Amato crime family, solve Peter's father's murder, and perhaps even find out what happened to Lazaro, well, that's a risk I'm willing to take.

When I walk into the restaurant, a host greets me and immediately shows me to a table in a private area where Lana is already sitting.

"Nice place," I say as I sit down.

"We're not here for small talk. Or a date."

Weirdly, I have a feeling of disappointment.

"This lead you mentioned. What is it?" she demands of me as a server delivers her a martini.

I pick up the menu. "I'm starving." I turn to the server. "I'll have what she's having."

Lana's lips thin in annoyance, but she doesn't push it. She knows I hold all the cards right now.

"Gin or vodka?" the server asks.

"What's hers?"

"Gin."

I arch a brow. "Old school. Gin. Dirty." When the server leaves, I open the menu. "What's good here?"

"Miss D'Amato! What a pleasure to see you." A well-dressed man approaches, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "And who is this?"

"Just a business associate, Marco," Lana says smoothly.

I arch a brow. The last thing I need is to be seen as a Mafia associate.

"The usual for dinner?" Marco asks, leading me to think he's the manager.

"Yes. And for my guest as well." She smirks at me.

"Very well." Marco takes my menu away.

Okay, I'm amused when I should be irked. "So, what am I having for dinner?"

"Lobster risotto."

My wallet cries. There's no way anything with lobster isn't expensive.

"My treat," she says, and I get the sense that she's poking at my manhood. Like I can't pay.

"Perhaps it will be worth the expense. You'll be glad you took me up on my offer." Tit for tat, right? Except, I should still pay. My ego requires it.

"Well, since you've finally gotten me alone, what are you going to do with me?"

I lean in, matching her flirtatious tone. "Well, that depends on how cooperative you're feeling, Ms. D'Amato."

She laughs, a sound that's both musical and dangerous. "Oh, I can be very cooperative when properly motivated."

I feel a thrill run through me, equal parts excitement and warning. I need to tread carefully.

"Then let's start with a toast," I say, raising my water glass. "To new partnerships."

Lana clinks her glass against mine, her eyes never leaving my face. "To… whatever this is. Now, about that lead on my brother."

I lean back in my chair, studying Lana's face as I decide how to approach this delicate subject. "Let's start with the basics. Why did you file that missing persons report for Lazaro?"

Lana's eyes flash with a blend of emotions—anger, frustration, and something that looks suspiciously like pain. "Because my brother is missing, Detective. Isn't that reason enough?"

"Most people in your… line of work don't involve the police in family matters," I point out carefully.

She lets out a bitter laugh. "That's your problem. You watch The Godfather or Goodfellas and think that's how things work."

I shrug. She's not entirely right. I know that since the 1990s, the Mafia has declined. With advances in surveillance technology and the police figuring out how to use the RICO act, the Mafia operates more in the shadows and comingles their ill-gotten goods with legitimate businesses. I imagine this restaurant launders some of their money along with selling lobster risotto.

"So, how does it work?"

She laughs at me. "Good try, Henry."

How bad is it that I like how she says my name?

"Have you ever arrested a CEO?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I haven't, but I know CEOs have been arrested in the past. Why?"

"Because usually, they get away with doing the same things you believe we do."

That doesn't sound quite true. My martini is delivered, and it occurs to me that I'm drinking on the job. Speaking of getting away with breaking rules.

"Banks ruined the economy twenty years ago. They took back the homes from people they gave bad loans to. Who went to jail for that?"

Fuck. She's right. "But they don't kill?—"

She gives me an exasperated sigh. "An airplane manufacturer killed over 300 people and made a deal with the DOJ to avoid prosecution."

"An airplane accident isn't the same?—"

"First, there were two accidents. But more importantly, the company didn't meet the terms of the DOJ's deal and has pleaded guilty to fraud. But is anyone going to jail? No. They're just paying fines."

"I see your point." And hell, if it isn't a good one. Corruption is everywhere. "But are you really saying since CEOs get away with it, so should you? The law is the law." I sip the martini, noting the use of top-shelf-quality booze. It's a testament to the idea that crime pays. Lana and her family live a luxurious life.

"Isn't this country built on the law being the same for everyone? It's not, though, is it? It's why no one has looked into my brother's disappearance. I asked for help because my brother went missing, and I was ignored because of my family name."

Her eyes narrow to slits. "Do you know how many times I called the station, trying to get an update? How many detectives I've spoken to? How much of my own findings I've handed over? And not one of them, not one, has ever followed up."

I feel a twinge of guilt. It's true, the department often drags its feet on cases involving known criminals. But seeing the raw pain in Lana's eyes, I think we've made a mistake.

"You're the first cop to even mention Lazaro's name to me in three years," she continues, her voice tight. "Everyone else, the police, my family, they've all just written him off. They assume he's dead because of our family's business."

I raise an eyebrow at her casual admission of the family's criminal activities, but she doesn't seem to notice or care.

"But I know he's alive. I can feel it. Lazaro and I… we have a connection. If he were dead, I'd know it." There's no doubting the conviction of her belief.

I lean in, intrigued by Lana's sudden openness. It's a side of her I've never seen before, and I feel both sympathy and suspicion. "Tell me about your investigation. What have you uncovered?"

Lana pauses, her fingers tracing the rim of her martini glass. "There was this tip I got from a shop owner downtown. Said he saw Lazaro get jumped by a group of men in the alley behind his store. They beat him unconscious and threw him in the trunk of a car."

I nod, having read the note in the file.

"But did they do anything?" The bitterness drips from her tone. And I don't blame her because from what I read in the file, the police didn't do anything with her report.

"Every time I called, I got brushed off. One actually told me good riddance about my brother. Another said if I wanted the police to care, maybe I should join a nunnery because no one gives a shit about families in The Outfit."

Again, I'm surprised by her mentioning her family as part of The Outfit, the name of Chicago's Mafia organization. But more than that, I'm sickened by what my colleagues said to her. We should be better. I know corruption exists in law enforcement, just like in business. In some ways, dirty cops are more disappointing to me. Lana is right. We're supposed to wield justice fairly, regardless of who someone is.

"Fuck," I say under my breath as I run my fingers through my hair.

"What? That upsets you? You really are a Boy Scout." She waves, and Marco reappears. "Another martini."

"Of course, Ms. D'Amato. And you, sir?"

I shake my head. "No, thank you." I need all my wits about me.

"So, Detective Lutz. Are you really here about Lazaro, or is this just part of your scheme to bring my family down?" The vulnerability in Lana's eyes catches me off guard. For a moment, I don't see the ice-cold crime princess but instead, a hurting young woman desperate to find her brother.

"I want to help."

"Really?" She looks at me like she doesn't believe me. But I think she wants to. Otherwise, why would she be here with me?

"I understand your frustration with the department," I say carefully. "And I appreciate your honesty. It can't be easy opening up to a cop."

Lana's eyes narrow. "I'm not opening up. I'm desperate. There's a difference."

I nod, acknowledging the distinction. "Fair enough."

Our dinner and her second martini arrive, giving us both a moment to catch our breath. She sips her drink while I taste the food. I nearly groan. It's fucking delicious.

"So. What do you know?" she demands.

I pause, weighing my options. The information I have isn't much, but it's more than she's had in years. "I've been reviewing old case files, including the one on your brother's disappearance. There might be a connection to another case we're working on."

"What kind of connection?"

I hold up a hand. "Before I go any further, I need to know you're willing to work with me. Really work with me."

"What, exactly, are you proposing, Detective?"

I take a deep breath. This is it. "A deal. I'll help you find Lazaro. Use department resources, follow up on leads, the works. In exchange, I need information."

"Information," Lana repeats, her voice flat. "About my family, you mean."

I nod. "Nothing that would directly incriminate anyone. But I need to know what's really going on."

I watch as Lana's expression hardens, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. The vulnerability I'd glimpsed earlier vanishes, replaced by cold fury.

"You bastard," she hisses. "You're using my brother as bait? Dangling the possibility of finding him just to get information on my family?"

I hold up my hands, trying to defuse the situation. I actually look around me, wondering if she has a goon somewhere ready to take me out. "That's not what I'm doing, Lana."

"Isn't it?" The way she looks at me with disgust—no, disappointment—makes me feel like shit. "I'm not going to betray my family to help you."

"What about Lazaro?—"

"Lazaro would be the first to tell you to go to hell for proposing such a thing."

I'm worried she's about to leave. I need to salvage this. "Look, I understand why you'd think that. But I'm going to pursue this lead on Lazaro regardless of what you decide. I'm not holding it hostage."

Lana's eyes narrow, searching my face for any sign of deception. "Then why offer the deal at all?"

"As I said, his disappearance could be related to another case. But even if it isn't, you know things about your brother, about your family, that could be crucial to finding him." I hold her gaze. "I'm not asking you to betray your family, Lana. I'm asking you to help me find your brother. Anything else is secondary."

The tension between us is palpable as Lana considers my words, the conflict warring in her eyes.

I wait, knowing that her next words could make or break this fragile alliance we're forging.