Page 21 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

“Caitlin?”

Damn him.

That was three times.

Each with a shiver.

“What?”

“I asked what you want from me.”

Right.

That was the whole purpose of this thing.

My stomach soured, and I placed the coffee cup back down. It was gross anyway. He liked his coffee so bitter that even after an ungodly amount of sugar, it still made me wince.

“Where is he?” I asked. “What did you do to him?”

“Christ,” he said, shaking his head. He looked almost disappointed.

“What?”

“So this is about a boyfriend. I don’t know what to tell you, darling, I didn’t do anything to any of my men. You got the wrong guy.”

“No, no, I know I have the right guy because your name was the only thing in his note app on his phone.”

“Which means… absolutely nothing.”

“No? I bet if I called the only number in his phone, yours would ring.”

A flicker of interest crossed his face at that.

Yeah, asshole, I’m not a complete idiot.

Even if everything that had happened so far didn’t exactly support that theory.

“And who, exactly, is he?”

As if he didn’t know.

I was sure lying was an important part of being some mafia guy, but it was impressive how well he did it.

I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders.

“Daniel Hall.”

“Daniel…” He cut off mid-sentence, his brows pulling together. “Daniel Hall. You’re Daniel Hall’s girlfriend?”

“Ew.” That popped out before I could choke it down. “No. I’m his daughter.”

“The daughter,” he repeated, nodding like everything made sense.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Well, seeing as I’m not some member of a criminal syndicate, no, you really can’t.”