Page 64 of Mile High Baby

Dax nodded. "By the way, we have gone ahead and started surveilling his wife as well." He pulled out his phone, tapping the photo app and handing it to me. There were pictures of a svelte long-legged blonde woman getting coffee at an Upper West Side java joint, and another of her getting her nails done at a fancy spa.

"Do you think she doesn't realize her husband is missing?"

Dax shrugged. “Hard to know. She doesn't look concerned, which is either really cold or she thinks he's been working all night."

I frowned as I scratched the day-old stubble on my chin, making a mental note to shave later. Disappointment that I wouldn’t be with Victoria filled my chest. “Wouldn’t the woman be suspicious if her salesman husband was working all night?"

"Remember we’re talking about George Pitney, her uncle. I imagine she knows the overtime hours that some of his people have to work."

I nodded. "Let's keep eyes on her. I think I'm going to talk to her, but let’s start with Tommy."

"A man who likes to tip his hand. I like it. What do you think you can get from her?"

"Anything that I don't get from her husband." Hopefully, something that would get me out of New York before my three weeks were up.

"It's possible she's totally and completely innocent of what her uncle does. Making contact with her can put her in danger."

I rolled my shoulders because I never liked putting innocent people in danger. "Well, we should make plans to protect her if necessary." My concern for Henry and Victoria outweighed Tommy's wife. Did that make me an asshole? Maybe. But I've had to make these kinds of decisions for many years now. Some were the right decisions and some weren’t, but I've learned to live with them all.

Dax picked up a file sitting on the table and handed it to me. “Here’s what we’ve got so far.”

I picked it up and read it as I moved to the basement door. I picked up my bag. Normally, I’d have put it in one of the bedrooms since I planned to stay, but I took it with me down to the basement where Tommy was being held.

Outside the room he was in, two Saint Security men sat, watching him on the screen. “Pay up, Walters. He still hasn’t pissed himself.”

Walters saw me approach. “Double or nothing. I feel like Sterling will have him shitting too.”

Deal. The two men shook hands.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. I’d done shit like that before.

“Good luck,” Walters called as I opened the door and entered the interrogation room.

Tommy was as attractive as his wife in a soft, pretty boy sort of way. The few notes I'd quickly scanned from Dax’s file told me that he too came from money, although not the type of money Pitney had. Dax’s notes said they were looking into any connections between Tommy's family and Pitney's. Perhaps they were cronies, or maybe Pitney had something over Tommy's family.

Tommy sat in an uncomfortable metal chair at a drab, institutional metal table. His hands were zip tied, but an empty plate and cup sat before him, indicating that he had consumed the food and beverage he’d been brought.

He looked up at me with tired and weary brown eyes. As if remembering what was going on, he shifted, straightening and adopting a tough guy scowl. "I'm not talking to you."

I gave him an affable smile as I put my bag on the table. I unzipped it enough to put my hand in and rummage around.

Tommy's eyes narrowed and his complexion turned green. "What are you doing?" I knew he had to be imagining all sorts of terrible things in my bag. Hammers. Saws. Pliers to pull out his fingernails. We didn't use those things, but he didn't know that.

With my hand still hidden in the bag, I found my grooming bag and a razor. I pulled it out. "I'm giving you a shave, Tommy boy."

"Shave?"

I nodded as I walked over and sat on the edge of the table next to his chair, tugging at his dark T-shirt collar. "Not much hair there. Maybe I won't need it."

He jerked away from me. "For what?"

I almost felt bad for the poor kid. He couldn't even be twenty-five, and now he was being subjected to the enemies of his brand-new uncle-in-law.

"The electrodes stick better on clean-shaven skin."

His brows shot up to his hairline. "The electrodes?"

I shrugged and pointed my thumb back over my shoulder toward the door. "Those guys are tired of waiting. They want to know what you know. So, they called me." I smiled again.