Double Blind (20 page)

Carmine’s lips part and his fingers loosen around my neck. He gives me a very stern look before he continues in a hard voice. “Adriana, what did they say exactly? Take your time and think about it.”

My vein pulses against his fingers, reminding me that at any moment he could cut off the flow of my oxygen again. “They—they said something about CIs. That one of them probably killed the cop. Either the Vittorios or the Rizzos.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, but he doesn’t say anything else. They dart all over my face, as if deciding something.

“Carmine, I swear I haven’t told anything to them. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Vince. I’ve been picked up by them before.”

“What the fuck?” His fingers pinch my throat. “He knew about this and didn’t tell Jack?”

“He was supposed to, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to see me get hurt, and he knew I was telling the truth.”

He exhales through his nose, nodding. “He took a big risk.”

I suck in breath, which is still a bit hard with his hand around my neck. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’m telling you the truth.”

He lets go of my throat and sits back, looking unnerved. “I can’t believe Cesare would keep a secret like that from his boss.”

I inhale sharply. “He did me a huge favor.”

“All right, I’ll keep your secret—”

“Thank you, Carmine,” I gasp.

“—But it’ll depend on you. You have to show me that you’re trustworthy.”

Fucking hell. Like I don’t have enough problems.

“‘Course. Like I said, you could always ask Vince.”

“I don’t need to ask that douchebag anything.”

He stands up and towers over me. My wrists are raw from clenching the stairs. He offers a hand, but I clutch the rail and lift myself up.

I can’t stomach his touch right now.

“I need to get changed for tonight. There’s a big game.” He grips my jaw suddenly. “Don’t mess it up.” Then he leans forward, his lips hot and biting against mine.

Bile rises in my throat and I move my head away. His hands were just wrapped around my throat.

“The fuck is your problem?”

Then he touches my hand. I jerk away violently, unable to disguise the disgust on my face.

Don’t touch me.

Part of my disgust stems from my own inability to judge a man’s character. I really thought that he liked me, that he was a nice person.

He killed a woman before.

“You tried to kill me.”

Carmine’s face burns red and he curls his teeth, his lips trembling. It’s scary. “No, I didn’t.”

“How could you do that to me?”

Despite myself, I feel the sting of tears in the corner of my eyes. I completely misjudged him. I thought he was sweet, a little overprotective, and sensitive, but violent? Deranged? No way.

“You’re overreacting, Adriana.”

“I passed out. You could have killed me.”

“What you did was serious.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

His features stiffen with rage. “I’m going upstairs. When I come down, I expect you to put this behind you.”

Let him go! Search the apartment!

Suddenly, the reason why I’m here rushes into my head. The sooner I can find something credible for Tony, the sooner I can be rid of Carmine.

I turn my back on him, heading downstairs. I wait until I hear his footsteps creaking upstairs and then I scamper throughout the house.

Where should I start?

I run past what looks like an office. My brain is firing off a thousand different synapses, my hands darting at everything. Bookshelf, desk, drawers, chair. I start at the desk, first. I open the drawer and rifle through the contents, trying to be quiet but thorough. There are sheaves of paper with bets and people’s names and addresses. I slip my phone out of my pocket and take a picture. It’s so frustrating, because I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to look for.

Running my fingers along the edges, I try to feel for a false drawer. I quickly open the other drawers. Nothing but junk. Pages and pages of crap. Slamming it shut, I look at the next one on top.

The floor above me creaks and the sound of leather patent shoes clipping on stairs startles me. There’s more crap inside this one: pencils, erasers, pens, and a photograph of someone who looks vaguely familiar.

Mom.

I grasp the photo in my hands. It’s a picture of my mother when she was much younger, with wavy dark brown hair. I can see my resemblance to her in it.

Why does he have a picture of my mother in his desk?

Something violent goes through my body, like a spear impaling my flesh. My hands tremble and my heart gallops ahead and I have no idea why, I just know that I am terrified.

A footstep outside the door. I drop the photo inside and lean against the drawer, closing it as Carmine walks inside.

“What are you doing in here?”

Shit.

He’s wearing a brand new suit. At least, it’s one I’ve never seen before. It’s a dark charcoal grey and it fits him perfectly. “You look really nice in that suit.” He looks down at himself briefly and I scan the desk, seizing a picture frame. “I was looking at this photo.”

Ignoring the turmoil inside, I swallow hard as he slides in behind me and looks over my shoulder. It’s a picture of a small boy in the arms of a man with the same eyes and nose as Carmine.

“Your dad?”

Carmine’s face softens as he joins my side and looks down at the photo.

 “Yeah.” His warm hand slides up my arm. “I don’t remember him much. Just little things like how his beard used to scratch my face when he kissed my cheek. He would buy me
cannolis
all the time.”

“What happened?”

“He left.” His jaw sets and a painful look glazes over his eyes. “And my ma never saw a dime from him all these years. Can you believe that?”

I hate how I feel sorry for this asshole.

“I’m sorry. My dad died when I was really young, so I know how it feels.”

Suddenly he takes the picture frame from my grasp and sets it down carefully on the desk. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Why do you have a picture of my mom in your desk?

The question sits on my tongue. I feel it burning my mouth.

CARMINE

She fucking saw it.

The second I saw her face, I knew. The question is—why the fuck was she looking through my desk?

The hair raises on the back of my neck when I look at her sitting behind the poker table. She smiles sweetly at the guys clustered around her. The busted light above her head softens the brightness around her, making her look softer, too. And more human. They’re on her like flies on honey and one of them actually takes her hand in his.

Goddamn it.

The floor manager is looking the other way, so I walk across the room and place a hand on the guy’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Adriana looks up from the game nervously, grimacing.

He wheels around, and I recognize him instantly. He’s a made guy, but he’s drunk off his ass and his hand is still touching her. Aside my annoyance from his obvious disregard from the rules, I’m pissed. Anger rises in my throat like acid.

She’s mine.

“You can’t touch the dealer.”

“Carmine, fucking relax. I just dropped twelve grand in one of your games.”

The wiseass grins at me like I’m fucking asshole and he squeezes her hand.

“I’m sorry, but those are the rules. Let go of her.”

Adriana gives me a look like I should drop it, but I ignore it.

“Geez, he’s got a stick up his ass.” He gives her a grin, which she reluctantly returns.

This fucking guy.

Smiling painfully at the others, I lean in so that only this prick can here me. “I’ll break your fucking hand off if you don’t let go of my woman.”

Finally, the moron gets the message and lets go of her with an apologetic look. “Sorry, Carmine. I didn’t know.”
I didn
’
t know she was yours.

That’s beside the point, but whatever. A victory’s a victory, even if I’m not supposed to threaten guests. I just can’t control myself when it comes to her—and women in general.

Adriana’s grateful, flushed face betrays nothing. She doesn’t know yet.

I’ve always regretted that day. I was young and stupid, and madly in love with an older woman. A married woman. We were just supposed to scare them. I used to collect payments. Every week, I visited their house, occasionally catching a glimpse of the cute little girl. The girl I’m looking at right now.

I killed her father. I ripped open his neck in front of her and watched him bleed out. It was stupid. I thought we could be together if he was gone.

Jesus fucking Christ, what’s wrong with me?

The boss at the time was livid when he found out what I did. I lied through my teeth about the whole thing, that it was an accident.

It wasn’t. I wanted her. And then her husband was dead, and she was free, but she wanted nothing to do with me after that. She just wanted a younger guy to fuck around with. She never
actually
considered leaving her husband. I was just a dumbass. Why would she want me after what I did to her kid?

The boss made sure I stayed away from her. They threatened her against talking to the cops, and life went on. I fucked other women, fell in love and got my heart broken countless times, and now I have
her daughter
.

It’s so fucking wrong, but I don’t care.

I love her.

And when we get more serious, I’ll force Tony to end this ridiculous punishment. She’ll move in with me and keep the house tidy, and have dinner ready when I come home. At night, she’ll warm my bed.

My thoughts pull irresistibly back to the night before, when she cringed at my touch. I’ll admit that I assumed the worst, but it hurt to see her flinch from me. Her brown eyes widened in the feeling I know only too well and the slightest bit of self-disgust settled in my stomach.

Ma did much worse. Didn’t she see the cigarette burns? Does she even realize how hard it is for me to work in a casino, surrounded by that putrid stench all the time? The acrid, burning smell throws me into the most bitter memories. Not just smoke, but the smell of burning human flesh.

Everybody gets smacked around by their parents. Shut up, Carmine.

Shoving it out of my mind, I focus on the present. I scan the floor, but every dealer seems to be doing fine. Customers continually filter in and out of the VIP room. Then I see something that ruins my day.

A cop.

I know he’s a cop instantly from the inherent sense of entitlement. Every cop always gives out an air of smugness, and this one’s no exception. He flashes his badge to the guards. I’m on him before anyone else can blink. He is in his thirties, with short-cropped hair and a waxen face.

He’ll be hard to win over.

“Officer, how may I help you?”

“My name is Officer Delgado. I’m looking for Carmine Lucchesi.”

The guard gives me a grim look.

Fuck’s sake.

“I’m Carmine. What’s the problem?”

“I just have a few questions. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

The smile on my face is painful. “Sure.”

A dozen eyes watch as I walk across the casino and open the door to the employees only section. My office is hidden in the back. It’s a tiny, cramped thing I rarely go into. I hope to fucking God Tony hasn’t bugged it. I’ll have to check later.

The cop strides in and I close the door behind us, taking a seat behind my desk. He sits down across from me, refusing to smile back.

What the fuck does this prick cop want?

He gets right to it. “Are you aware of Officer Cramar’s disappearance?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I smile genially. “Who?”

“Let’s cut the crap, Carmine. I know for a fact you were one of his CIs because I was his partner.”

Heat flushes my face and my eyes dart to the door. “You have some fucking balls coming in here, talking about that shit. Are you out of your fucking mind? Anyone could hear this conversation.”

He reaches into his jacket, unperturbed by my reaction, and takes out a small notepad. “Where were you on the 13
^th
?”

It’s the day I got rid of him. Even though flash of panic spikes through my nerves, I keep my body very still.

Don’t look away.

“I was in the casino. I have security tapes, if you’d like to see them.”

I’m not a moron. I always prepare for this shit. I made sure to have security tape of myself dated on that Wednesday. There were no witnesses. This cop is just fishing for information.

That’s what I tell myself, at least.

“Sure.”

“Let’s go, then.”

The cop follows me outside, towards the security booth where the eye watches over everyone. I can’t wait to get him the fuck out of here. Too many people have seen me talking to this fucking cop already.

I knock on the door and George opens, blinking at the cop standing behind me. “George, do me a favor and take a break.”

“Sure thing.”

Giving me a wide-eyed look, he leaves the office. Sighing, I let Officer Delgado in and sit down at the desk. I know exactly where the tape is because I placed it there days ago, but I pretend to rummage around the drawers as he watches me like a hawk.

Finally, I find it.

“Here it is!”

I give it to the officer so that he can see the date of the tape himself, and then I pop it in the black and white TV.

“Mind if I come a little closer?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t need to. I walk in and out of the camera’s view, plainly recognizable. The date and time at the bottom of the screen confirm my story, but the cop fast-forwards the tape as if to catch me in a lie. When the tape runs out, he leans back, looking extremely disappointed.

“Something wrong, officer?” I barely contain the sneer in my voice.

He doesn’t hear it. “My partner is missing. We’re investigating anyone who had contact with him in the last couple weeks.”

“Maybe he got tired of being a cop and decided to skip town.”

That earns me a glare. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. I know one of you assholes is behind this. We traced his last cell phone call to a pay phone near Coney Island. The only people who use pay phones are criminal scumbags like you who need to use an outside line.”