They always had partners.
The plain clothed detective barely passed Mac a look, and he didn’t react all that much to his attitude, either. He wouldn’t usually be so nasty to the police unless they’d provoked him.
He kind of figured dragging him away from his honeymoon was sort of like provoking.
“Where’s my wife?” Mac asked when the man took a seat.
“In a sec,” the detective replied, glancing through a folder.
He had his arm placed just so on the table that Mac couldn’t even get the slightest glimpse at what had the detective’s attention otherwise occupied.
Mac’s irritation jumped a notch when another two minutes passed by without the detective even looking at him. “If you have no questions for me, asshole, I’m going to find my wife and get the fu—”
“In a minute.”
The detective’s blasé attitude rankled Mac’s hackles.
Something was going on here …
He just didn’t know what in the hell it was.
“What can you tell me about … Luca Pivetti?” the detective asked, finally glancing up from the folder and staring Mac right in his eyes.
“Nothing.”
The detective smirked. “Just like any good made man.”
Mac didn’t bite onto that chain. “It’s my wedding night—so if you don’t mind, get the fuck on with whatever it is, or let me get on with my evening. There is no doubt in my mind that you are well aware I was walking my wife to the car when whatever happened, happened.”
The detective still didn’t blink. “What about Matthew Corvi?”
Hesitance stabbed in Mac’s spine, but he answered carefully, as was the way of any made man. “If you’re talking about Luca’s lawyer, that’s all I’ve got to tell about him. He’s a close friend to the boss.”
A scoff answered that back. “Right—close.”
“I don’t have much else to say.”
“Not even about this?”
The detective tossed out the folder, and pictures spread across the table between them.
Bloody pictures.
Pictures that showcased violence.
The man was nearly unrecognizable.
But not entirely.
Matthew’s face look like it had been blown apart all across one of Luca’s walkways.
“Do you happen to know why this may have happened?” the detective asked.
Mac’s gaze flew down to the grotesque shape of Matthew’s mouth, as if he had opened it to shout for help … or something.
But even as he stared at the picture, Mac’s thoughts flew back to the scene he’d witnessed earlier that night between Luca and his two men.
“Well?” the detective asked again.
“No,” Mac said, “I don’t know a fucking thing. Now, where is my wife?”
The room was colder than an icebox and Melina was well aware that it was intentional.
Sitting at the gray table with arms folded, she leaned back in her chair, waiting for the interrogation that she knew was sure to come.
None of this was new to her.
Still, she wondered what the hell was going on.
One minute, she and Mac had finally been ready to leave their wedding reception and the next, all hell had broken loose. Now she was alone and waiting.
At the mercy of pigs once again.
Her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, the loud tick-tock once again drawing her ire. Another fifteen minutes had passed.
Fifteen minutes, she should have been in Barbados.
Fifteen minutes, of sticking her toes in the sandy beaches.
Fifteen minutes, of making love to her husband.
Her husband.
She had no idea where Mac was.
Once the police had descended on the Pivetti mansion, they’d quickly separated the men and women. For a short time, Melina, Cynthia and Victoria had been together and then she’d been taken away from them.
Isolated.
Alone.
Prime for manipulation.
Too bad for the pigs, Melina had no intention of being manipulated.
“Ah, the blushing bride.”
Melina cut her eyes toward the door as two men entered the room and closed the door behind them. One of the men held a manila folder in his hand. Melina watched the men warily as they came toward the table where she sat.
“You’ll have to excuse my partner, he’s new. I’m Detective Peterson.”
Melina said nothing.
Detective Peterson carefully put the manila folder on the table close enough that Melina could reach it if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
“Just married, huh? I’m sure the police station is not where you wanted to spend your first night as a married woman,” the younger detective said.
“You think?”
“Well, Mrs. Maccari, we don’t want to inconvenience you any longer than necessary but we need some information.”
Melina leaned forward and placed both hands on the table. “I have nothing to say.”
“Melina, Melina, I thought we were going to make this smooth and easy. You help me, I help you.”
“I guess you didn’t hear me the first time. I have nothing to say and if you’re not going to charge me with something, then you need to let me out of here.”