Butterface (The Hartigans #1)(63)
“We have information that the Luca brothers have been busy lately,” Rodriguez said. “They’ve been boxing up a lot of stuff and taking it to a storage building on Elmherst. We can’t confirm that it has to do with the shipment tonight, but we need to find out either way.”
The Luca brothers and mystery cardboard boxes. That sounded a little too familiar. “Any idea what’s inside the boxes?”
“Nope, but we think there was at least one delivered to the sister’s house.” She paused as if to gauge his reaction. When he didn’t have one, she went on: “You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”
“No.” One word. One bald-faced lie to the woman who held his spot on the organized crime task force in her hand and the captain who held the rest of Ford’s career in his.
It wasn’t a great plan. It wasn’t a plan at all. It was pure gut reaction. Implicating Gina in anything that had to do with her brothers was not something he was going to do when he knew she wasn’t guilty of a thing. Damn the regulations and proper protocol.
Rodriguez continued, “Our informant has not been inside the Luca brothers’ apartment, and we can’t risk his position on the inside for answers about a couple of low-level loan sharks in case it doesn’t pan out. Still, we don’t want to miss anything, so we need to know what’s in the boxes at the storage facility or the ones possibly at Gina Luca’s residence.”
“And you want me to find out?” Well, that wasn’t going to happen because if he showed up on her door, she’d probably let him fall through the porch again and leave him there.
“That was the idea, but if you’ve lost access then we can send in someone else to poke around.” Rodriguez looked down at her notes. “She’s renovating her house, right? So maybe an inspector for a spot check, see if there’s anything suspicious. If there is, we can get a warrant for the storage unit.”
All he could picture was the box on Gina’s kitchen counter, the one her brothers had left and made her promise not to look in. This was the point in the conversation where it was standard operating procedure to offer up that pertinent information.
He said nothing.
And he couldn’t let another cop look in that box first. If there was something illegal inside and Gina was holding it, she could be facing charges even if she had no idea about the contents. After seeing how the Luca brothers were with their sister at the bowling alley, he couldn’t imagine her brothers would set her up to take a fall. Still, he had to do whatever it took to protect her in case he was wrong. If he was the one who found out whatever was inside the box, he could vouch for her, keep her safe from any fallout. There wasn’t another option.
“I can still get in.”
Rodriguez didn’t look impressed by his declaration. “Are you sure?”
It would mean burning whatever goodwill Gina might have left for him—which, face it, was pretty minimal at this point—but he could stop her from getting tangled up in her brothers’ mess. That was worth it, even if she ended up hating him for it.
…
Gina looked through the narrow leaded stained glass window next to the door again. Nope. She wasn’t dreaming—or having a nightmare. Ford was on her porch. He was holding a white box with the red Vacilli’s logo on it. He was looking a little rough around the edges. Good. He should.
“I can see you standing there,” he said.
Of course he could. She was standing in front of a window. “So?”
“Please let me in.” He held up the box in his hand. “I come bearing pastry and an apology.”
“Really?” The man was such an asshole. Did he really think she was that much of an idiot? “You brought cannoli? That move doesn’t get you in my pants anymore.”
“It’s not cannoli. It’s rum cake.”
Oh. Toasted almonds. Shut up, Regina. Dickhead alert. Stay focused. “That doesn’t get you laid either.”
He sighed and lowered the box back down. “I’m not trying to screw you, Gina.”
“Yeah, you only like to screw me over.” Which, while a clever retort, was both true and depressing—like a nature documentary where the little baby hippo ends up getting eaten by a pack of lions.
“Please just let me in. We need to talk.”
Her natural curiosity wondering just what he was up to joined forces with that lizard brain part of herself that still responded to him with happy sighs and excited squeals. That’s how she ended up opening the door before she could stop herself. Stupid pheromones and brain.
“At least this saves me from having to decide between burning your stuff in my driveway or taking it to your house, so you might as well come in.”
Okay, so she’d binged a few days’ worth of chick-gets-revenge movies this week that had given her ideas. It wasn’t like she’d followed through on any of them.
“Thanks,” Ford said as he walked past her.
She did not take a big whiff as he got near. She did not check out his ass when she turned to close the door. She did check out his hands as they cradled the white box from Vacilli’s. He was just in her line of sight. That’s all.
“You can wait in the kitchen, I’ll bring the box down.”
“I can get it.” He started toward the stairs leading to her room.