Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

“Something like that,” I agree and nod when he turns to leave. Once he’s gone, I take one of the two boxes, set it on the porch in front of the door, and then return to my car and open my box.

I type out a quick text to Annika.

Me: Dinner’s on the porch. Better fetch it before it goes cold.

There’s no reply, but then, I don’t expect one. I’m halfway into my second slice when the door opens, and Annika stares down at the pizza box. She glances up at me, picks up the box, and takes it inside.

Pepperoni with olives is her favorite. She’ll be out in no time, telling me to come inside and eat with her. There’s no way she’ll leave me out here all night. She may be stubborn, but she has a soft side.

And I can usually get there through her stomach.

But I finish off all but two pieces of my pie, and still no Annika.

Two hours later, when there’s nothing left for me to do but sit and watch the neighborhood, she still hasn’t said a word.

“She’s seriously going to leave me out here.” I shake my head and can’t help but laugh. “Is it any wonder I want to spend the rest of my life with her?”

* * *

Bam! Bam! Bam!

I startle and open my eyes. Shit, I fell asleep.

“Good morning,” I mutter as I roll down the window. “What time is it?”

“Six,” she replies, but her mouth softens into a smile. “You really stayed out here.”

“Of course.” I wipe my mouth, conscious of the stubble on my face. “Last time I looked at the time, it was four-thirty. So, I wasn’t out long.”

“Come on, tough guy. I’ll make you some coffee.”

“And pancakes?”

She shakes her head, but she’s laughing. “Sure, I’ll make pancakes. I also have leftover pizza.”

“Me, too.” I grab a few things from the car. When we turn to walk back into the house, I scowl. “What the fuck is that?”

“What?” She looks up and then gasps. “Oh, God. I didn’t see it when I came outside. But I was looking at you.”

“Motherfucker,” I growl and stomp up the steps but don’t take the envelope off the door yet. I take my phone from my pocket and call Carmine. “We have another envelope. Haven’t opened it yet.”

“Jesus, it’s six in the goddamn morning. Give us thirty and we’ll be there.”

He ends the call.

“I need gloves.”

“Be right back,” Annika says and slips through the door, avoiding the envelope like it’s a snake that might strike out and bite her, then hurries back to me with a gardening glove.

“You don’t have any latex gloves?” I ask, scowling at the glove in my hand.

“No, I’m out.”

“This won’t fit me.”

“Oh. Right. You have big hands. I can get a baggie or something.”

I pass the glove back to her. “It’s okay. You put it on and grab the envelope.”

“No.”

She firms her lips and shakes her head.

“It can’t hurt you.”

She stares at me for a long moment. “I’m quite sure that whatever’s in there will hurt me.”

I blow out a breath and use the glove to take the envelope off the door, careful not to add prints to it. We’ll have Shane run it later, along with whatever’s inside.

He ran the last ones, but the evidence was contaminated with too many other fingerprints to find anything useful.

We move inside, close the door, and I lay the letter on the dining room table. I text Carmine and ask him to bring gloves.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that when I opened the door,” Annika mutters. She walks into the kitchen and gets to work making coffee. “I guess I was too focused on you.”

The last words are a whisper, but I heard them.

“A—”

“I always was,” she continues as if she has to fill the silence with words. “I couldn’t see anything but you for years. Is it weird that it was the best time of my life?”

“No.” I swallow and fist my hands because they itch to hold her. “It’s not weird.”

“It’s silly,” she says and then blushes a bit. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Hey, we’re friends. We used to be much more than that. And you can trust me. You can say anything to me.”

“No.” She turns to me, her big, blue eyes full of tears. “I can’t. I can’t, Rafe.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Hello?” Nadia calls out from the front door. “Where are you guys?”

“Kitchen,” Annika calls back but hasn’t taken her gaze away from mine. “Let’s just deal with this, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m making coffee,” Annika announces to Nadia and Carmine. “There’s cream and sugar and anything else you could want around the kitchen here.”

“Excellent,” Nadia says as she leads Carmine into the room. Her short hair is still a little disheveled, and her face is clean of makeup, her eyes sleepy. “We came right over, but I did insist that we make a quick stop at the donut place down the street.”