Cat and Mouse (New York Mafia Syndicate #1)

Chapter 6 - Leo

I'm sitting in a dingy diner in Milwaukee, and I fucking hate it here. The coffee tastes like burnt rubber, and the air is thick with the smell of fried food. But my obsession has dragged me all the way from New York to this dump.

I've found out more about Elizabeth's partner, but since he's dead, the next best person is the rookie she was working with back then. This guy is a detective now. I've been trailing him for weeks, and today's the day.

He walks into the diner, the bell above the door jingling. I watch him from my corner booth, my eyes following his every move. He gets donuts and coffee, just like he does every morning. Routine is a killer.

He leaves, and I toss a few bills on the table, following him out. The Milwaukee cold bites at my skin, but I ignore it. I watch as he gets into his car, a beat-up sedan that's seen better days. I trail him, keeping my distance.

He drives to a nearby lake—Lake Michigan, the locals call it. It's quiet here, perfect for what I have in mind. I park a few cars back, waiting for the right moment. He's too distracted to notice me approaching until it's too late.

I pull my gun and tap it on his window. He looks up, eyes wide with shock. I motion for him to roll down the window.

"We need to talk," I say, my voice low and steady. "You don't know me, but I know all about you, detective."

He stares at me, frozen. "Who the hell are you?"

"Get out of the car," I order, my gun trained on him. "We're taking a little drive."

He hesitates, but I see the fear in his eyes. He knows he's got no choice. He gets out, and I walk him to my car, then shove him into the passenger seat. We drive in silence, the tension thick between us.

After a few minutes, he finally speaks. "It's foolish to kidnap a cop, you know. You're not going to get away with this."

I chuckle. "I'm not interested in killing you, detective. I just want to talk about someone we both know. Elizabeth Kane."

His eyes narrow. "Elizabeth? What do you want with her?"

"We'll get to that," I say, pulling into a secluded spot by the lake. I turn off the engine and face him, my gun still in hand. "First, you're going to tell me everything you know about her."

He looks at me, confused and wary. "We graduated from the academy together. She was my partner when we started."

I nod. "And then what happened?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape.

The lights from the city reflect off the lake, casting eerie glimmers on the water. I've got Detective Mark Walters right where I want him, spilling his guts about Elizabeth.

"We were working a drug raid," he says, his voice shaky but steady. "It went south. Our senior partner, Detective Tom Harrison, got injured. After that, she transferred to New York. Couldn't handle the memories."

I nod, absorbing the information. "And the scar? How did she get that?"

"That's... that's a long story," Walters says, taking a deep breath. "She got it during that raid. It was a setup. We walked right into an ambush. She got out, barely."

I lean closer, my eyes narrowing. "Tell me more. What happened before the raid? You said she changed after it, but what about before?"

Walters looks around, clearly uncomfortable. "There were problems. She and Harrison didn't get along. She filed a complaint asking to be reassigned, but it never went through. The raid happened before they could process it."

My mind races. Problems with her partner before the raid? Interesting. "What kind of problems?"

"They butted heads on everything," Walters says, his voice lowering. "Harrison was old school, rough around the edges. Elizabeth didn't take his crap. She stood up to him, which didn't sit well. He was pissed about the complaint, and it created a lot of tension."

"So, something happened before the raid," I say, more to myself than to Walters. "Something that made her want out."

He nods. "Yeah, something. I don't know the details, but she was adamant about the transfer."

I lean back, processing this new piece of the puzzle. "Good. Now here's what's going to happen. You're going to forget this ever happened. If you so much as think about going to the cops, I'll know. And I'll come back for you. Understand?"

Walters nods quickly. "Yeah. I understand."

"Good," I say, lowering the gun. "Now get out."

He scrambles out of the car, not looking back as he heads off. I watch him go, a smirk playing on my lips. This is just the beginning. Elizabeth Kane is going to be my next project, and I can't wait to dive deeper into her world.

I drive away from the lake, my mind racing with plans. I've got the information I need for now, but there's so much more to uncover. Elizabeth Kane, you're not going to know what hit you.

Back at my apartment, I dive into the files I have on Elizabeth. Her complaint against Harrison is in there, buried in the bureaucracy. She requested a transfer on grounds of harassment and professional disagreements. There's a note from her commanding officer, Captain Roberts, saying they would review it after the raid.

I lean back, piecing it together. Harrison was pissed about the complaint. Maybe he set up the raid, knowing it would go bad. Maybe he wanted to teach her a lesson. But he ended up injured, and she got that scar. Something happened, I just can't figure out what exactly.

Yes, Harrison was old school, but how old school? Sexist? Misogynistic?

I don't miss the irony of me, a serial killer, wanting to find out what makes immoral people that way.

According to my father, I was just happier when justice was being served, and I haven't killed a person who didn't deserve it.

Not yet, at least.

I open my laptop and start digging deeper. I find old news articles about the raid. Harrison is painted as a hero, Elizabeth as the rookie who helped. But there are hints, little mentions of internal strife in the department. I pull up the official reports, cross-referencing them with the complaint. It's all there, hidden in plain sight.

Something made her want out, and that raid was the climax of their conflict.

I pick up my phone and call Matteo. He answers on the second ring.

"Yeah, boss?"

"I need you to dig up everything you can on Detective Tom Harrison and Captain Roberts from Milwaukee. Focus on the months leading up to that raid."

"Got it," Matteo says. "Anything specific?"

"Anything that ties them to Elizabeth's complaint. I want to know why she wanted out."

"Understood. I'll get on it."

I hang up, staring at the screen. Elizabeth Kane, you're a mystery. But I'm getting closer. Whatever happened in Milwaukee, it left a mark on you. And I'm going to find out what it was.

I spend the next few days going through every scrap of information I can find. Matteo sends me files, reports, even some personal emails he managed to hack. It's a goldmine.

Harrison was a bully, plain and simple. He harassed Elizabeth, undermined her at every turn. The complaint she filed was detailed, painting a picture of a toxic work environment. Captain Roberts knew about it but did nothing. And then the raid happened.

I find a note in Roberts's files, a cryptic message about Harrison needing to be "dealt with" before he "caused more trouble." It's vague, but it fits. Harrison was a problem, and the raid was his solution. But it backfired.

Elizabeth survived, scarred but alive. And now she's in New York, trying to bury her past. But I'm not going to let her. I'm going to dig up every skeleton in her closet until I understand her completely.

I close my laptop, a satisfied grin on my face. I'm getting closer.

But before I hunt down a police captain, I think it's about time Elizabeth and I had a little heart to heart.

I guess I'm going back to New York now!

***

I park a few houses down from Elizabeth's place, engine off, sitting in the dark, watching. The street's quiet, just the occasional car passing by. I glance at the clock on the dash—she should be home any minute now.

I light a cigarette, the glow from the lighter briefly illuminating the inside of the car. She's got that strong, independent vibe, but I know there's more to her. The way she looks at me, like she's trying to figure out what makes me tick, just makes me more curious about her.

Headlights flash in the distance. That's her. I sit up straighter, watching as she pulls into her driveway. She's home later than I expected, but that doesn't matter. The game's on.

Elizabeth gets out, glances around—habit, I suppose. But she doesn't see me. I'm just another shadow on this dark street. She walks up to her door, keys in hand, and I watch her every move. She doesn't fumble, just smooth, precise actions. I like that about her.

She goes inside, and I wait. I need to see her in her element, where she thinks she's safe. I flick the cigarette butt out the window, roll up the window, and step out of the car.

I move silently up to the house, taking my time. No need to rush this. I peek through the front window, and the curtains are just slightly parted. She's in the living room, tossing her keys on the table, shrugging off her jacket.

Elizabeth heads to the kitchen, and that's when I make my move. The door's unlocked—careless but maybe she feels safe here. I push it open slowly, slipping inside, and close it just as quietly behind me.

She's at the counter, reaching for something in the cabinet. Her back's to me. I take a few steps closer, making sure my presence is known.

She turns, eyes widening in shock. "What the hell?" she screams, her hand flying to the cabinet again. She pulls out a gun, and I can't help but smile. Spirited. I like that.

"Put it down," I say calmly, stepping closer, showing her my own gun tucked under my jacket. "You're outgunned, sweetheart."

Her eyes narrow, the gun still in her hand but not pointed at me anymore. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

"I just wanted to talk," I say, my voice smooth, like we're having a casual conversation over coffee. "That's all."

"Talk? You break into my house to talk?" She's not lowering the gun yet, but I can see the confusion in her eyes. She's trying to figure me out, but I'm not an easy puzzle.

"You're gonna arrest me?" I ask, almost amused. "You're welcome to try, but we both know how that'll end."

She tightens her grip on the gun, still not pointing it at me but ready. "Maybe I should," she says, her voice hard, but there's a flicker of something else. Fear? No, not fear. Something darker, more complicated.

"I like a woman with fight," I say, taking another step closer. I'm almost within arm's reach now. "But you're making this difficult, Elizabeth. We don't need to go down that road."

She tries to shove me back, but I'm faster. I grab her wrist, twist it just enough to make her drop the gun. It clatters to the floor, and she goes for a punch, but I block it, grabbing her and pinning her against the counter.

Her breathing's heavy, and she's struggling, but I hold her there, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin tank top.

"Relax," I whisper in her ear, my voice low. "I just want to talk about Milwaukee."

At that, she stiffens. The fight goes out of her for a moment, and I feel her tense beneath me.

"What is this about?" she asks, her voice strained.

"Because I bested you last time," I say, leaning in closer, my breath hot against her neck. "And left you all handcuffed and pissed off, I'll give you one answer. One question, your choice. Then it's my turn."

She goes still, her mind racing, I can see it in her eyes. She studies me, weighing her options.

"What's your actual name?" she finally asks, her voice more controlled now, like she's trying to take back some power.

I can't help but grin. "Leonardo," I say. "But my friends call me Leo. Now, my turn. Why'd you move to the NYPD?"

She hesitates, her jaw tightening. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm a curious man," I say, not letting up. "So talk."

She sighs and looks away for a moment before answering. "I was in a raid that went wrong."

I scoff, shaking my head. "I know that part. Tell me the real reason."

Her eyes narrow, and she finally looks at me again. "I was one of a few women working with all men," she says, biting her lip, and it hits me. I know what she's trying to say without saying it.

"Who was it?" I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. Anger's racing through me, but I keep it in check. This isn't the time to lose control.

She scoffs, her eyes flashing with something between defiance and bitterness. "Why the hell do you care? You're a fucking serial killer."

I lean in closer, my voice a dark whisper. "I kill for a reason, Elizabeth."

"Which one?" she challenges, her eyes daring me to say something that makes sense of this madness.

"You're the detective," I say, dodging the question. "Figure it out."

She looks away, the fire in her eyes dimming just a bit. I don't like that. I cup her cheek, turning her face back to me, and kiss the corner of her mouth. It's not a move I planned, but something in me just does it. She stiffens, her eyes drifting to my lips, and for a second, everything in me tightens. This is dangerous ground.

Blood rushes south, and I'm fucking confused by it. I have to get out of here. I'm too close, too deep in her space.

I pull back, grab her gun, and toss it into the living room. I don't trust her not to use it the second I leave. Then I climb off her, giving her space, watching her as I back toward the door.

"You should lock your doors," I say, my voice more serious now, all the teasing gone. "Next time, you might not be so lucky."

She just watches me, silent, her eyes saying more than her mouth ever could. And then I'm out the door, into the night, needing to get the hell away from her before I do something I'll regret.