Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

But they’re implying that I knew that Richard was a drug dealer, and they’re threatening to call the cops.

Fuck. That.

“What is it?” Nadia asks.

“More of the same.” I sigh and stuff it all back into the envelope. “But they’re more specific about what they want now.”

“How much?” Carmine asks. My gaze meets his, and I shake my head.

“They don’t want money.”

“What in the hell do they want?” Rafe demands.

“Me.” I toss the envelope onto the table and try to control the shaking in my hands. “Also, they’re implying that I knew about Rich’s drug distribution, and state that if I don’t give them what they want, they’ll turn me in.”

“Blackmail and extorsion,” Ivie says. “They’re a bunch of overachievers.”

I grin at her. It’s either that or throw something. “Clearly, they won’t get me.”

“What, exactly,” Rafe says, rage coming from him in waves, “do you mean by they want you?”

I lick my lips. “Sexually.”

“Motherfucker son of a bitch,” he growls and starts prowling my dining room. “I’m going to fucking kill them. Every one of them. Slowly.”

“Let’s look at your security footage,” Shane suggests.

“Good idea.” I walk past Rafe but stop to lay my hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

“As soon as I kill the son of a bitch who’s doing that,”—he points to the table—“yeah, it’ll be fine.”

I pat his shoulder, try not to acknowledge the bulging muscles under his shirt, and go to fetch my laptop.

Ivie holds her hand up for it and grins at Shane.

“I got this, babe.” She opens the computer, taps the keyboard, finds my software, and narrows her eyes. “Okay, so this would have been dropped off between four-thirty and six. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

She blows out a raspberry. Shane looks over her shoulder. The rest of us just stare at her, waiting with bated breath.

“Got him.” She taps a key, and we all crowd in behind Ivie to see what she found. “Look, right here at five-fifteen.”

“He’s in a hoodie and a mask,” Nadia says.

“And stays close to the wall,” Carmine adds. “We can’t see enough of him to figure out who the fuck he is.”

“I agree,” Ivie says with a nod. “But he messed up. He runs back to his car and drives in front of the house. I can blow this up and pull the plate.”

“What if it’s John Doe again?” I ask.

“I have a good feeling about this one. Give me a little room and a smidge of time.”

“That’s code for stop crowding her,” I say as we back away. “I need more coffee.”

“I’ll take another donut,” Nadia adds and joins me in the kitchen. “Talk to me. We’re alone.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me how you feel, sugar.” She takes my shoulders in her hands and gives me the look. The one she always uses when she thinks I’m not telling her everything.

“I’m pissed.” I sigh and push my hand through my hair. “I’m just so mad, Nadia. Who the fuck is doing this, and who do they think they are, thinking they can treat me like this? I didn’t do anything to anyone. I just want to live my boring life in suburbia. Mind my own business. But that just can’t seem to happen, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re past feeling sorry for yourself and landed squarely in being angry. It’s a nice change.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but she just grins.

“Okay, I’ve got something,” Ivie calls out. “The plates aren’t linked to a John Doe but rather a Larry MacDonald. We have a place to start digging.”

“Thank God. What do we do now?”

“We’re going to the office,” Shane says. “We have better equipment there. I’ll do a deep-dive on this MacDonald asshole. If we’re lucky, we can pay him a visit later today.”

“I’ll come with you,” I reply.

“No.” Rafe shakes his head. “We don’t know who we’re dealing with, and you haven’t trained for this, A.”

“So I just sit here and let you all do my dirty work?”

“Yes.” Nadia kisses my cheek. “You’re too pretty to kill people, A.”

I roll my eyes and watch as they all gather their things and go, leaving Rafe and I behind.

“Aren’t you going with them?”

“No.” He shifts his feet. “I’m staying here with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Rafe.”

“Didn’t say you did. But you need a friend.”

I sigh. “Is that what you are? My friend?”

“Absolutely.” He smiles that charming smile I can never say no to.

“Fine, you can stay. I have some work to do, so I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Where can I set up shop?” he asks. “Here in the dining room?”

“It’s not very comfortable.” I frown, taking in the formal table and stiff, high-backed chairs. “There’s a desk in the guest room. It’ll be more comfortable. Come on, I’ll show you.”