The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,22

eyes flashed. “If anyone does, I’ll make them regret it.”

“Enough chatting back there!” Dupont snapped from the front.

“Tristan,” Catherine said quietly but with enough bite that Dupont backed down.

I eyed the back of my sister’s head. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who had found their match.

The door to the interrogation room slammed shut as Dupont strode in, followed by a familiar FBI agent. It was the same woman who had been at the bank with Catherine and comforted her after I had left—the very first time I had been in this interrogation room.

Beside me, Hugo del Gatto sat, his notes fanned out and his expression hard. He hadn’t become the lawyer to the Outfit by being a sweetheart, and the more he dodged their questions, the more I was beginning to see his true worth to the organization.

“Here is your water,” Dupont gritted out as he passed me the glass. “Is there anything else you want?”

Del Gatto looked to me. I shook my head.

“My client is fine, thank you,” our attorney said.

The other FBI agent sat down, giving me a polite smile. “I’m Special Agent Schulz. Agent Dupont and I just have a few questions for you and then you’re free to go. We will try to make this as quick as we can, so you can go home to your baby.”

I smiled back at her. “I only hope I can be of service.”

It became clear pretty quickly that the FBI didn’t actually have any solid proof. They were running off tips and circumstantial evidence. Both of them kept trying to catch me out in a lie, but neither of them succeeded. If they got close, Del Gatto stepped in and they both immediately backed off.

Throughout the entire interrogation, I only spoke about twenty words.

When I went to leave, I asked about Alessandro.

“We will keep him for forty-eight hours. Legally, we are allowed to,” Dupont told me snidely.

I pressed my lips together, unhappy, but I left without a fight.

As we prepared to leave, Hugo insisted we leave around the back. “There are cameras outside,” he told me. “News got out that half of the Chicago Outfit—allegedly, of course—was arrested and detained.”

“Is that so?” I held out my hand. “Would you mind if I borrowed your blazer?”

I folded up a torn blanket, tossing it into the trash.

It had been two days since the FBI raid, and we were still cleaning up. The poor Palmeros had lost their fence and the Tripolis had lost a hedge of roses, so I didn’t have much to complain about in comparison. Furniture had been tipped over, doors taken off their hinges and cupboards completely emptied, but at least my garden was still intact.

My mind had been numb as I had cleaned up the house and tended to Dante. Every time I heard a car drive down the street or a door slam close, I would rush to the closest window, expecting to see my husband. But each time I had been let down.

Forty-eight hours.

The FBI had bureaucratic rules they had to follow—they couldn’t be doing just anything to him. But also...the FBI was known for their ability to look away.

I swallowed down my growing nausea and checked on the baby monitor. Dante still had another good forty minutes until he would need a feed and change.

I continued to sort through all the mess the SWAT team had left, throwing away damaged items.

Outside, a car door slammed.

I lifted my head up. A familiar dark head of hair slipped out from the passenger side, expression fierce.

“Oh!” I took off downstairs, baby monitor gripped in my palm and Polpetto following on my heels.

Before Alessandro even stepped into the foyer, I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. His familiar scent washed over me, settling in my lungs.

His arms came around me. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Come on,” he murmured. “We need to have a meeting.”

I looked up at him, scanning the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I think you should rest. You...You should...rest.”

His eyes softened fractionally as he caught my second meaning, the slight fear behind my eyes. “They left me alone for a day and then asked me questions for another, my love. I’m fine.” Alessandro leaned down, brushing my lips with his.

“Gross, boss!”

I turned my head to the side to see Gabriel D’Angelo striding into the foyer, his face alight in humor. He bowed his head in respect when he saw me. “Sophia. Is the baby awake?”

“No.”

Gabriel looked glum. “Can I go wake