Chapter Twenty-Nine
Frank paced in front of Ragusa’s house. “I’m telling you, Freeman, I have a really bad feeling. We need to go in guns blazing and sweep the house. Something is happening.”
He had to see Amie. He needed to know more about their son. He needed to see both of them. Make sure they were okay and take them home where he could protect them. His family. His stomach knotted. He’d never imagined having children with anyone else, but once Amie left him, he didn’t think he’d ever have a family at all.
In her letter, she’d given him a bigger reason to fight. Not just for her love, but for their child. The little boy who he already loved with all his heart but had yet to meet.
He would do whatever necessary to get his son and his mate to safety. He had a family and he would protect them with his life.
“Calm down, Dubois.” Detective Freeman pushed the doorbell button again to make sure they didn’t forget they were there. “Let’s see what’s going on before killing whoever steps into sight. Unlike you, I’m accountable for my actions.”
Frank was in his face in a heartbeat. “What do you mean by that? You think I’m not responsible for my actions? That I’m reckless and kill for no reason?”
“No.” Freeman put his hands on Frank’s shoulders and pushed him to arm’s length. “What I’m saying is that you are in a spot where the public can’t know you exist, which leaves me making up a story to explain the superhuman, kick-ass heroism I showed cleaning up the Mafia on my own.”
Frank snorted and sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s just . . . Amie’s in there. I don’t know what he’s doing to her.”
“We’re going to find out.” Freeman clicked the end of an audio recorder disguised as a ballpoint pen in his chest pocket just before the door opened.
“Leave your weapons here or you don’t come in,” a guard said. Frank shucked his gun, setting it on the table. After a quick pat-down, they were escorted into the study. Ragusa sat behind his desk, supposedly working. He stood when they entered.
“Ah, Detective Freeman. Always a joy.”
“For you, maybe, Ragusa. I’m sick of looking at your ugly mug.”
Ragusa laughed, but it was forced. The man smelled funny to Frank. Like a bunch of things normal humans shouldn’t encounter. Incense was strong—very strong. If he weren’t so close to the Mafia boss, he probably wouldn’t have smelled anything but. Stale sweat stank from his pores, along with fear and anger. It was too old to be from him and Freeman arriving. What had the man been doing before they got there?
Ragusa’s face showed no expression. “Please, gentlemen, have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.
“We’d rather not,” Freeman said. “I have a warrant to search this house for a missing Amerella Capone. Her last known location was her home, down the street. We need to know if you are harboring someone who was at a homicide scene.”
Frank knew that was a bunch of bullshit talking, but Freeman had to keep Ragusa talking until he smelled or noted something. He needed to find Amie.
“Homicide scene?” Ragusa said, brows raised high. “Never heard that one.”
“We haven’t had this situation come up with you before. Usually it’s the body—post homicide—that you hide. And for some reason, judges don’t believe you would keep a body in your sparkling mansion.”
“Of course they wouldn’t,” Ragusa replied. “I pay them enough to be confident of that.”
Freeman held his tongue. Frank was ready to rip into the guy. But since he couldn’t do that yet, he surveyed the surrounding area, looking for anything suspicious. Several guards where in the room: two stationed at the door they came in through and two more at a set of double doors behind them. He needed to nonchalantly move about the room to catch what smells he could. The incense was overpowering next to Ragusa.
Freeman leaned on the expensive desk. “I bet you’re so proud of that, aren’t you? Knowing you have to pay off so many people to keep them in your pocket. That’s why you have to extort and skim money from your corporation, isn’t it?”
“It appears I don’t have you in my pocket, Detective.”
“I’m about the only one,” Freeman said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, man. The senator wasn’t in my pocket.”
“He’s dead,” the detective shot back.
“Unfortunately, he is. Too bad, really. He was a good man for the public. Just very bad for us.”
“So you had your son kill him, making it look like a coincidental killing at a bank robbery?” Freeman laughed. “I really hope you didn’t come up with that idea. You’d be slipping if you did.”
Frank had moved around the room. The closer he came to the double doors, the stronger the smell of campfire. Not the soft smell of a fireplace, but hard woodsy burning.
“What my son does is of his own accord. You have no proof of my involvement, and you won’t find any now that he’s dead.”
Frank froze and Freeman stepped back. “Dead? How did he die? Where is the body?” Frank turned toward the doors and took a deep breath. Death. Two people in there were dead. Neither were his mate.
“Fine, Detective,” Ragusa said. “Would you like to start your search upstairs in the guest rooms or down in the dungeon?”
Frank asked, “How about in there?” He headed toward the ballroom.
Ragusa laughed. “I’d say that was a brilliant idea, but it wasn’t an idea but a smell—wasn’t it, shifter?” Once again, Ragusa had caught him off guard. “I don’t need introductions now. I know who you are. Amerella’s mate.”
Frank spun on the man, ready to tear him a new asshole. Ragusa had his gun pointed at Freeman and fired. Frank’s cat said it was time to get his ass moving on four legs. His shift came quickly, freaking out the men guarding the double doors, allowing him to bust them open.
With his cat being in the room, he smelled Amie’s blood. There had been lots of it, but his eyes didn’t see any sticky liquid in the candlelit room. The guards from the study fired shots at him. He ran for the only cover available: the table and bonfire remains. He would’ve loved to get the download of what went on here. He’d expected to see sticks with wieners and marshmallows for roasting. Instead, he found two bodies, both of which were toast.
And Amie had been in the room.
More guns fired at him. Men opened other doors and joined the first two guards. As he ran, the trailing bullets blasted through the windows, dissolving into the night air. When scouting the area outside just before he and Freeman knocked on the front door, he’d picked up his mate’s scent by a side gate and followed it to a room with large windows and curtains. The material was on the floor, but this had to be the room. If not, they could be screwed.