“Michael? Why do you want to know about Michael?” I tried to act calm, but inside, my heart was pounding a relentless rhythm against my ribs.

“Please, just answer the question.”

I couldn’t see his eyes through the reflective sunglasses, but the weight of his stare was unyielding, leaving no doubt that he was taking in my every movement.

“I’ve known him for years. We went to school together. Can you tell me what this is about?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Can you tell me about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Garin?”

More and more alarm bells began to sound in my head. Did he have questions about Michael, or were his questions seeking information about me? How was my relationship with Michael relevant to whatever he was investigating? My parents might have tried to keep us girls blind to their mafia dealings, but they were always clear on one thing—never, ever talk to the police. Right or wrong, I was raised to believe that the cops would twist and contort anything you said and use it against you.

My jaw clamped shut at the mental reminder, and I sucked in a cleansing breath through my nose. “If you have questions for me, I think it might be best if you spoke with my lawyer. Would you like his number?”

Detective Breechner’s upper lip lifted slightly in a snarl. “Is that how we’re going to play this? All I’m trying to do is have a simple conversation,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’m not playing at anything. I think it’s in my best interest to remain silent, and I believe that’s my option. Now please, step away from my car.” I was relieved to hear my voice grow fortified with each word I spoke. He had shaken me at first with his unexpected request, but I’d eventually found my backbone.

He watched me as I placed the box in the back seat. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“It is for now,” I replied, reaching for the driver’s seat door and forcing him to step back farther as I opened the door and retreated inside my car. Pressing the ignition, I thanked God I didn’t have to fiddle with a key—my shaking hands could never have handled the task.

Breechner crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me as I pulled away from the curb. I didn’t know what his deal was, but I certainly wasn’t sticking around to find out. I drove a few miles away until I was comfortable pulling over, then dived for my phone to text Michael.

A cop just tried to question me about you. Are you in trouble?

The conversation dots immediately jumped to life. Michael was excellent about responding to my messages, unlike some guys. No, I’m sure it was nothing. You ok?

Yeah, just shaken. No idea what he wanted, and I didn’t give him time to tell me.

I’ll bet that pissed him off.

I’d be surprised if he didn’t crack a tooth. The thought made me chuckle.