“This stuff with Daisy?” Ben fought back the urge to smash his phone on the nearest rock. “I think something’s going on in that house. She’s scared, Jack. That’s not ‘stuff.’ That’s a crime. This is what we’re supposed to do. Protect civilians. Protect my daughter.”
Jack sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you might be overreacting. You’re not thinking straight. It’s been a tense situation, and we didn’t really consider the ramifications of that massacre at Vincenzo’s on you. Our psychologist thinks you just might be projecting your anxiety on Daisy. After all, Gabe’s been around for a while, and you never had any concerns about Daisy until just after it happened.”
“Holy. Fucking. Shit. I can’t believe you just said that.” Ben felt like the rug had been ripped from under his feet. Projecting? Not thinking straight? That didn’t sound like Jack. He was a straight-up guy. Never went for that psychology shit. What the hell was going on?
“Listen, Ben.” Jack’s voice dropped to a low, cajoling tone. “You come to the diner right now and someone will come to get you. I’ve already finished all the paperwork for witness protection. You’ll be sent away until the situation is all sorted out and they make all the arrests. I’m not sure how long that’s gonna be, but you’ll be safe until it happens.”
If Jack had made the offer weeks ago, Ben would have jumped at the chance. He’d wanted this. Wanted out. But now that it was offered, he realized it wasn’t what he wanted at all, and he couldn’t believe he’d been begging Jack to make it happen.
“What about Daisy?”
“She can’t go with you because of the custody order. Only way would be if you took Ginger, too, but I’m guessing that’s not going to happen.”
“No fucking way.” He couldn’t stand being around Ginger for ten minutes, much less forever.
“So Daisy will stay in her current situation—”
“No.” He barely managed to keep his voice low so as not to wake his sleeping daughter in the car. “Absolutely not.”
He could hear Jack’s sigh of exasperation. “Well, what then? You won’t come. Daisy can’t go with you because it be would be considered child abduction. What do you suggest?”
“I’ll get a fucking court order.” He stared out over the city he’d come to after he left foster care, his stupid teenage head full of dreams of taking down the mob. “I’ll keep my head down and do my job. I’ll call you ten fucking times a week if you want. I’ll file the fucking reports. Meantime, you’re going to push harder to get Social Services out to see Daisy. When Daisy is mine again, that’s when you’ll pull me out. In the meantime, I’ll deal with Gabe.”
“You’ll deal with Gabe?” Jack’s voice rose in pitch. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to find out what’s going on, and if that fucker hurt my girl in any way, the streets are going to run red with his blood.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jack shouted. “We’re cops, Ben. We don’t do vigilante justice. I’ll give you two weeks to sort yourself out, then custody order or not, you’re done.”
“Don’t back me into a corner when my little girl is a risk,” he warned. “If you’re that worried about me, tell the fucking department to pull some strings with the judge.”
“I’ll pass on the message, but you’re making the wrong decision,” Jack said. “You’re in way too deep, Ben. You’re thinking like a wiseguy, talking like a wiseguy—hell, you’re acting like a goddamned mobster.”
Ben turned off his phone, and checked on Daisy, still asleep in the vehicle. Jack was wrong to overlook the benefits of Mafia-style vigilante justice. There was no administration or red tape to go through. No legal proceedings or victims’ rights. There was the fucker who had scared his girl. And there was the bullet that would go through his head.
Would he go to jail if he pulled the trigger? Or would he become a made man?
FIFTEEN
“Your father wants to see you.”
Mia looked up from her terminal in the community center computer lab. She had just logged in to for her Saturday morning coding class. Rev stood in the doorway, filling the space with his pumped-up bulk. Her pulse kicked up a notch. Usually her father summoned her over the phone. Rev was his top enforcer, entrusted with keeping Dante safe. That her father had pulled him off bodyguard duty to come and get her told her this was one meeting she did not want to attend.
“I’m teaching a class.”
He walked toward her, idly kicking at the chairs as if they were pebbles. He wore a sweatshirt, sleeves torn away to showcase his massive biceps, and ripped down the chest to reveal his revolver tattoo.
“He wants to see you now.”