How was any of this possible? That’s what I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know how my target’s sister was his girlfriend. And what would have happened had Daniel not attempted to mug my intern? It was a horrible thought, but then I’d never have hunted Daniel down Wednesday night. I’d never have been running late to my date with Leah and been in the parking garage at the exact time when Colin was trying to boost a car with his buddies. I’d never have been at the rave to go after Jamie, winding up protecting a son I didn’t know I had.

“Hello? You there?” He waved his hand in front of my face. Apparently, I’d gone ahead and spiraled anyway.

“Your mom didn’t send me, no. You were lucky I happened to be there. You have no idea just how much luck was involved, in fact.”

He ignored my warning, which was for the best. “But why were you here?” His brows shot up. “In a raaaaave?”

So, you drag words out like your aunt. Got it. “Why were you?” If my blood pressure rose any higher, I’d be heading to the hospital myself. Juliette’s, of course. “Are you in a gang?”

I had a dozen questions and a feeling he’d never answer any. He still had no clue who I was other than the guy he stole from. Mr. Monopoly to him. I was going to have a coronary along with shit blood pressure.

“Why was that Italian-sounding dude so afraid of you? Are you part of some scary crime family?”

Nice deflection, kid. I wasn’t a mafioso. My mom’s side of the family was mafia, but that was a story for . . . well, never. He didn’t need to know that.

“Of course I’m not. I’m just someone that . . .” That what? What could I possibly say to him that’d get him to back off his interrogation so I could get back to my own.

Colin rubbed his jaw. Shit. Was he in pain after all? What kind of father was I?

One with zero experience.

“Are you okay? What happened before I came in there? Did that asshole hit you more than the one time?”

“I’m fine.” He removed his hand from his face, shaking it off. “You shouldn’t have involved yourself in my business. They’d have roughed me up, then let me go.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” Now I sounded like my old man. “The mafia doesn’t rough people up. They break every bone in your body, then kill you and everyone in your family. You understand that, right?” He probably didn’t. God help me.

His head bowed in shame the moment I uttered the word family.

So, you don’t care about your own life, but you do your mom’s?

“Those guys were mafia?”