The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

Whether we liked it, at times, or not.

"I think the girl got a scare and went on home, gave up this mission," Leandro said, voice soft and sure.

I wasn't so sure.

Did she get a scare?

Yes.

Was that enough?

I didn't think so.

Because there was something in her eyes. I noticed it when I rewatched the footage Angelo had sent over to me. There was a determination mixed with a desperation that said she would do whatever it took to find whatever the hell it was that she was looking for.

Maybe a part of me was even anticipating it, wanted her to show back up, wanted an excuse to grab her, get some more alone time with her.

Which was fucked, but true.

Even after a little rest, a long run, and enough coffee to jumpstart a semi, I still couldn't get the image of her out of my head.

She was gorgeous in the way that demanded you notice, that made it necessary to pause and take a second look.

Everything from the shining dark hair to the flawless skin, the intelligent, brown eyes, the perfect bone structure, the fit, gently curved body, it took a moment to all sink in. Everything was too much to take in with one glance.

I'd taken a few.

I was greedy.

I wanted more.

On a sigh, I raked a hand down my face.

I'd been working too much. I wasn't even sure when was the last time I'd spent a night with a woman. Too long, if I was fantasizing about holding a woman hostage just so I could notice how fucking shiny her hair was.

"Sure," Lucky agreed with Leandro, but gave me a knowing look. "She got her scare and ran off," he said, giving the old man a clap on the shoulder. "Women haven't been known to have balls of steel in this town or anything," he added, sliding out of the booth.

Navesink Bank was a clusterfuck of criminal activity from street gangs to loan sharks to paramilitary camps. Some of the most ruthless organizations were run by women.

"Anything else, Unc?" Lucky asked my father, getting a head shake. "Then I'm off to work. Then hit up Ma's for dinner. I'll meet you at the docks by dark," he added, nodding my way before heading out.

"You sure you have this handled, Luca?" my father asked. "Leandro and I can come for extra support."

"We have half the family showing up tonight. If she's there, she isn't going to slip through our fingers."

"Where will you bring her if you catch her?"

That was a good question.

Back in the day, without my realizing it at the time, that place had been my childhood basement. The

n, later, likely as the heat picked up from the local police force, in the back rooms at various businesses we owned.

Eventually, though, those places got too risky as well. The local force could mostly be bought off with little hassle. The Feds who liked to poke around in organized crime when they didn't have anything better to do, they were the problem. Anything in any of our names would be under suspicion, could possibly be under surveillance.

You didn't bring work home.

"We have the rental," I reminded him.