Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 446

Chapter 446: He’s Playing A Game

Voss did not believe for one second that Luciano Genovese had done anything out of kindness toward him. "He’s playing a game."

"You have lots of cases on your desk, Detective," Harrington said. "Focus on those and give Luciano a break."

Voss stepped closer to the desk. "It doesn’t bother you that Luca doesn’t want me fired? It doesn’t raise alarms? Not even one?" Voss pressed.

"Andrew—"

"So you’re just fine with this? A known mafia heir puts in a word with the commissioner, and nobody thinks that’s a problem?"

Harrington’s eyes hardened. "I think plenty of things are problems. I think Luca Genovese is a problem. I think the bodies behind Scalese Pizza are a problem. I think Dorian Heathcliffe turning this department into his personal punching bag is a problem."

Voss waited.

"But right now," Harrington continued, "you are the problem in my office. So no. I don’t care why Luca wanted you here. I care that if you keep going the way you’re going, he won’t have to destroy you. You’ll do it yourself."

"He is saving me for a reason," Voss said. "He wants me to owe him a debt."

"He is the devil after all," Harrington said dryly.

"I’ve got to go."

Harrington stood sharply. "Do not go anywhere near Luciano, Voss!"

But Voss was already headed away. The captain’s warning followed him into the hallway, swallowed by ringing phones, officers moving around. His coat snapped behind him as he walked, jaw tight, head full of Luca’s invisible fingerprints all over his life.

He would be damned before he let Luciano Genovese put a collar around his neck.

*****

Luca was getting accustomed to being ambushed by Voss nowadays. At this point, the detective showing up uninvited was becoming less of a threat and more of an irritating habit.

So when Luca was informed that Voss was once more in Commissioned—but this time actually requesting to see him—he wasn’t really bothered.

Curious, yes. Bothered, no.

Commissioned was quiet that afternoon, closed to the public until evening. His jacket was off. Sleeves rolled up.

The detective stepped in. Voss looked angry, wounded. Luca’s mouth curved.

"Seems to me I must have done something to piss you off, Detective." He tilted his head. "Why is that somewhat satisfying?"

"Good job on your new hire," Voss drawled, stepping farther into the office. "Finally got the Heathcliffes in your pocket."

"They are my wife’s lawyers," he said. "Not mine. Sit, Detective," Luca added, gesturing to the chair across from him. "You look like you would like a shot of something strong."

"No, thank you."

"Nonsense." Luca got to his feet and walked to the bar set into the side wall. He selected a bottle of Macallan 25 Year Old Sherry Oak. He poured two glasses, carried one glass back and placed it on the desk right in front of Voss. Then Luca downed his own in one smooth swallow, the burn settling nicely in his chest.

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