Page 29 of Play With Me
“You understand why I’m asking, don’t you?” I fix him with a stern glare, trying to pick apart any minuscule tell in his body language.
Like a true politician, though, I feel like he’s lying through his teeth, even if his demeanor is casual and he keeps saying he’s willing to cooperate in whatever way he can. “Of course I do. But I’m telling you, Kate has nothing to do with this. Kate adores Carmela.”
I can’t keep my lip from curling in disgust. He speaks in a tone one would use to describe an adulttalking about a child. Not a wife talking about her husband’s mistress.
“Does she now? Tell me, Senator. Does your wifeknowabout you and Carmela?”
A grin pulls his lips wide as his green eyes shine with mischief. “That Carmela and I are business partners? Of course, she does.”
“Cut the shit, Mick,” I snap, shoving my notepad away and tossing the pen I’m holding onto it. “It’s obvious she’s your mistress. The way I see it? That makes your wife a suspect.”
He has the fucking audacity to laugh as he settles back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Kate wouldn’t hurt a fly, Detective. Besides, do you really think she’s capable of murdering men double her size?”
“Maybe she isn’t working alone. After all, I’m sure you have the financial means to hire out for this kind of shit. What if she’s the one who put a target on Carmela’s back?” I’m starting to get frustrated. Mick’s wife is the only lead I’ve been able to come up with. Besides Luca—who I may not get along with or like very much, but I genuinely think he wouldn’t harm Carmela—Kate is the only other person with a reason. “She has the motive. She has the means. I think we need to get her down here so I can ask her a few questions.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Mick bites out, his calm demeanor cracking just enough to make me moresuspicious—a vein appears on his forehead as he pops his knuckles before flexing his fingers. “My wife has absolutely nothing to do with this.”
“What are you hiding, Mick? You and Carmela aren’t as discreet as you think you are. People know about you two. My bet is that your wife knows, too. Now, you flew me all the way across the country for this. Do you want this bastard caught or not? You told me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep Carmela safe. Shouldn’t that include looking into all possible suspects?” It fucking should, but the way he wants to keep me away from Kate is questionable.
“I think you should be focusing on Vinny Morroni. He planted his fucking son in the club to get under Carmela’s skin, and she’s blinded by his true intentions because she’s fucking him,” Mick snaps.
I want to tell him that, as far as I know, Carmela hasn’t slept with Luca recently. As a matter of fact, I want to tell him thatIfucked her and have been fucking around with her, just to see his reaction. I don’t like Mick. Something about him just seems off to me.
But I can’t tell if it’s because of his relationship with Carmela or not, just like I feel about Luca.
“Why did you kick Vinny out of the club? What was he doing that you didn’t want to get caught up in?” I pull my notepad back toward me.
“Gun trafficking. I discovered he was havingshipments brought to Désirer and dispersed through a back room during the shows when Carmela was distracted. I’m anti-gun, so I wanted him gone. I think he thought he’d trap me into keeping quiet about it, but I caught him before he could try to plant any damning evidence on me. There’s nothing linking me to this club directly. My money goes through the proper channels before it goes to Carmela—everything gets done cleanly.”
“Why did Carmela keep Luca and Vinny’s other men around?”
“Because they made up over half of our security team. The plan was to hire new men eventually, but then she and Luca started their littleaffair. That’s why she doesn’t want to get rid of him,” he says in disgust.
“Can you really call it an affair? She’s single, isn’t she? And you’re married. So what makes their relationship an affair?” I try to keep my tone even but can’t help the edge of anger that creeps in.
Mick’s demeanor changes instantly at my question. His lips turn down in a frown, and his eyes narrow shrewdly as he regards me. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he leans forward. Even though he’s sitting, he tries to keep his posture straight—tries to make himself look intimidating. I’ve seen men do it a hundred times before, and they always manage to make themselves look like idiots.
“Let me tell you something, Detective. Andyou’re a man, so I know you’ll understand where I’m coming from,” he starts with a smooth warning. “Carmela and I have been involved for fourteen years now. She belongs to me, just like my wife does. They know about each other. They coexist with each other. As far as I’m concerned, that gives me the right to be upset when my mistress decides to step out on me with another man.”
For the first time since I was brought into their fucked up world, the fact that Carmela is the other woman is solidified. Only, instead of being disgusted with her, I find that I’m angryforher. Because Mick treats her so callously, like she’s just an object he possesses.
Anyone who knows her knows she’s a hell of a lot more than that. She deserves better than whatever this jackass has promised her, and I wonder what he has on her that’s made her stay all these years. The Carmela I’ve come to know wouldn’t let a man walk all over her.
As soon as I open my mouth to tell him exactly that, my phone buzzes on the table, and I look over to see it’s Martin. Without looking at Mick, I pick up the phone and answer. “Brooks here.”
“There’s been an accident.” Martin’s voice is careful, tone wavering just barely but enough for me to pick up on it.
I’m instantly on alert, knocking my chair over as I rush to my feet. “What happened?”
“Carmela was attacked. We’re taking her to New York-Presbyterian.”
Fuck. That will take forever to get there.
Stealing a glance at Mick, I cover the mouthpiece and tell him, “Carmela was attacked. We need to get to New York-Presbyterian.”
To his credit, the blood drains from his face. He shoots out of his chair and heads for the exit. I may not like him, but it’s obvious he does care about her, even if their situation is completely fucked up.
“We’re on our way. What happened? Is she okay?” Flashes from six years ago filter through my mind as I follow Mick through the building—images of impossibly blue eyes and dark hair staring up at me lifelessly because I was careless.