Ice slid through her veins, striking at all her nerve endings with sharp pricks. None of this had been public information or she’d have never settled down in Miami. Even then she’d waited to put down roots because she’d been afraid De Fiore had been somehow waiting to trap her. This sounded way too sketchy. “That feels like a bit of a coincidence.”
“Exactly. But without more proof, they can’t make a case that he’s not dead. He hasn’t resurfaced anywhere so if he really is alive, he’s basically living off the grid. They want him bad, but can’t expend a bunch of resources hunting a ghost who may or may not be dead.”
She rubbed a hand over her face, feeling about a thousand years old. “So he’s back for those stupid diamonds. Well, he’s in for a big disappointment.”
Duarte nodded as Aaron slid a steaming mug in front of her. He’d even put whipped cream on top. The sight warmed her heart.
“Thank you,” she murmured, glad he was here with her. She might not know him very well, but the man was solid. After what she’d recently learned about his military experience, it was clear he was the kind of man you wanted on your side. Not only that, but he’d stepped up and taken over as a single father, and it was clear that he thought his kid hung the moon. He was a good man. She couldn’t fight the guilt weighing on her that she’d brought her troubles to his doorstep. It made her wonder if she should cut and run. For the first time in years she wanted to stay in one place. Wanted it so desperately it was a live thing inside her.
“The diamonds…” Duarte said, drawing her attention back to him. “I don’t know if this is about them.”
“What else could it be about?” She didn’t have any other enemies. None that she knew about anyway. And nothing that warranted the kind of violence from yesterday.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I just think it would be pretty stupid of him to try to kill you before he got what he wanted. And according to my FBI contact, bombs aren’t really his style. He likes to get up close and personal.”
The iciness spread, wrapping around her insides and chilling her straight to the bone. Why hadn’t she thought of that? It didn’t actually make sense for De Fiore to want to kill her. Not yet anyway. Not until he got what he wanted—except she didn’t have anything to give him.
“The Feds want to talk to you. They know who your brother is but they didn’t realize there was a tie to you and De Fiore or they’d have come to you sooner. They wanted to talk to you tonight but I wouldn’t tell them where you’re staying. Said I’d bring you in tomorrow morning for a sit down with them. If you want.”
She didn’t particularly want to talk to more law enforcement and she had a feeling Duarte was just being polite and giving her the illusion of a choice. She’d have to talk to the Feds one way or another. “I’ll do it. Thanks for not dragging me down to see them tonight.” Under other circumstances she figured they would have tracked her down, but she’d turned off her cell phone and taken out the battery at Aaron’s insistence. He said no one should be able to track her without access to her phone.
Duarte’s mouth curved up slightly and he shrugged. “You should be rested when you talk to them. It’ll be in my office, not in an interrogation room. And if they start pushing you, tell them you want to talk to me or a lawyer. Don’t let them railroad you into anything. They can’t keep you against your will.”
She blinked, surprised by his heated tone. “What could they possibly railroad me into?”
“Don’t know that they will. But I know how they operate. They’re pushy when they want to be, even to victims. If you start to feel uncomfortable about any line of questioning, end the conversation. You’re a victim, not a suspect. Sometimes the Feds need a reminder of stuff like that.” There was a hint of derision in his voice.
Grateful for the warning, she nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He pushed up and nodded at Aaron, who’d been quiet. “Eight o’clock tomorrow work for you?”
“We’ll be there.” Aaron’s expression was unreadable as he tilted his chin toward the front of the house.
She quickly realized he meant for Duarte to follow him to the door. Tegan didn’t bother going with them. If Aaron wanted privacy with Duarte, she wouldn’t intrude.
She wrapped her hands around the mug but it didn’t do much to warm her. Not when chills snaked through her body.
She hadn’t thought De Fiore would fake his own death. Sure, the thought had entered her mind that his death wasn’t real, but it had been eight months. And she’d come back onto the grid, so to speak, about three months ago—even if she had settled in Miami eight months ago.