“Weekly lunch with Lieutenant Salvatore Frisano, sandwiches in his office, keeping tabs on his son. My mother thinks it’s a bonding between father and son, but I know differently, been like that since I first walked a beat.”
“Orchestrating your career,” Jimmy said.
“Sal won’t be happy until I hold the title of commissioner.”
“Got it,” Jimmy said. “No pressure.”
Jimmy started to move on, but he felt Frisano’s hand grip his wrist, holding him, drawing him in. They locked eyes, brooding dark eyes meeting expectant blue, dissolving into a color that only existed between the two of them. Jimmy felt fire pass through him, unsure whether it was his body creating the heat or being in Frisano’s presence and decided it was both. Neither of them had ever denied the attraction between them. Neithe
