Silence. I remained cloaked in it. I knew my Miranda rights. In my head I answered, Because I wanted out.
“Why did you come back?”
Silently once more, Because money runs out. Money doesn’t grow on trees.
“Were you involved in the planning of the murder of Thomas Paige?”
I stared at the detective.
Seriously? Did he think I’d answer that?
But I answered the way I’d always answered. With a lie. “No.”
By now, it felt true. It exuded truth. I’d said it so many times it felt like a part of my very heart. As far as I was concerned, it was the whole truth.
55
Lee
I counted off another day.
Another day closer to freedom.
A freedom I craved desperately.
What a stupid shit I’d been.
Thinking this made me a man.
Taking a piss in public.
Wearing a onesie.
And waiting.
All the never-ending waiting.
The only thing that made it bearable was books. The ones my mom brought. Stories passed the time. Stories took me away from this concrete hell.
And so did my remorse.
“You’ll be out soon,” my mom said when she came to see me that morning.
“I can’t wait,” I said, and I meant it, but not simply because I hated it here. I meant it because I wanted something else more.
A second chance.
A chance to show her I wasn’t living as Jerry Stefano’s son. That I wasn’t following in a criminal’s footsteps. That I could turn away from that life that had once lured me, from the ways of the street that Kenny and TJ had taught me.
I wasn’t my father’s son.
I was hers.
And I wanted to show her that I could make changes.
She’d lined up plans for me to take a community college class when I got out. I never liked school, but I’d have to man up and do it.
I laughed to myself. School had to be better than being behind bars.
We talked some more, and when the visit was up, she asked if I’d seen the detective lately. “No, but when I do, I’ll cooperate.”
“I love you, Lee.”
“I love you, Mom.”
A little while later, the detective came in, and I took my mom’s words to heart once more. No longer did I protect my own in the Royal Sinners. I protected my mom.
And I would do that by sharing what I knew.
“Any chance you want to tell me where TJ Nelson likes to hang out?”
I named a few spots, including one that made the detective’s eyebrows dance.
“That so?”
“Yup.” It was the truth, and his eyes seemed to spark.
When he rose to leave, I cleared my throat. “Detective.”
“Yes?”
“You can call me Lee Rosa.”
He cracked a sliver of a smile. “Good to know, Lee.”
56
Michael
Michael
I answered John’s call immediately.
“I need your help, Michael,” he said, wasting no time.
“Lay it on me,” I said from my desk.
“I think I know where to nab TJ. But bringing him in will require some stealth. The man’s already wanted, so I need the element of surprise, but I know how to pull it off.”
I was all too happy to help.
“You want us to set a trap?” Curtis asked.
“Yeah. I would really like that,” John said, his tone somehow casual but also intensely serious.
My eyes swept from John to the two men I was making this request to. Leaning against the back of a royal-blue lounge chair, Curtis scratched his square jaw with his thumb, glancing at Charlie before answering. “So we’ve got to bring those scumbags back into our business?” he asked, arching an eyebrow skeptically as he waved a hand around the club, quiet now during the day. Jazz music hummed from the same speakers that played dance music after midnight.
John nodded. His arms were crossed. “I know it’s not what you want, but if we bring him in—and I’ve got the warrant for his arrest—we can dismantle the gang. He’s the last linchpin left, now that we’ve got their head guy. One of my witnesses has named the places he’s been seen.”
Curtis shook his head. “This isn’t one of them.”
“No. But by using the guy who started trouble here a few weeks ago with the knife in the bathroom, we think we can lure him. That guy is willing to cooperate to get out of his own trouble by inviting TJ here. Making it look like just a regular night out. Once he’s here, you make the call, and we’ll bring him in.”
Charlie blew out a long stream of air. “I don’t like bringing them in here. We’ve been trying to keep guys like that out. I don’t want any guns in my club.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” John said. “But we’re close, so close to blasting them apart. We’ll have plainclothes cops here. They will be the only ones with weapons, besides my men and myself. We’ll do thorough checks at the door to make sure. And Michael’s team will ramp up security. We will keep your business safe.”
Charlie hummed and raised his chin at John. “I heard you speak at the benefit a few months ago.”
My ears pricked. I hadn’t attended that event, but both Ryan and Colin had. It was a fundraiser for the local community center where Colin volunteered. His girlfriend, Elle, ran it. Colin’s company was one of the main donors, and so was White Box. These guys were committed to cleaning up the city, and I hoped they’d take this chance, even if it put them at risk.
“You had a friend who was injured when you were younger,” Charlie said, meeting John’s eyes.
The detective nodded.
“I know what that’s like,” he said through tight lips. “I lost one of my brothers when I was younger. To street crime too. That loss changed me. Led me to make some choices I wasn’t so proud of. Now I’m trying to live a better life, in his name. He would have wanted us to do this.”
Curtis nodded and patted Charlie’s shoulder. “He would have. He really would have.”
Charlie turned back to them. “We will help you.”
The waiting was miserable. Minutes ticked by as if they were hours. The days were elongated, and I walked through town as if in a surreal dream. I was glued to my phone, just in case there was news. In case Morris or Mindy or John or Ryan or Annalise or my White Box guys called.
Waiting sucked. Waiting was torture. But I understood this was the safest way to bring in TJ. The fucking mastermind of multiple hits had gotten away with so much, but with Luke now behind bars and facing a possible trial, and TJ’s cousin Kenny arrested, and many of their guys on the streets locked up too, the power structure of the Royal Sinners was cratering. They were caving in on themselves. TJ was the last man standing, and once he was down, I could breathe again.
I was slated to fly to Paris in a few days, and I had half a mind to cancel the trip. But I didn’t want or need to do that. I wasn’t the guy who’d be making the arrest. I was simply the man waiting for justice for my family. Justice would happen, one way or another, I was sure. We had waited long enough.
I went to the gym late one night, hoping a workout would burn off some of the tension. At the end of my weights session, my phone rang.
57
John
I was playing pinball with my future brother-in-law when the call came—Sophie liked that Ryan and I were hanging out, trying to get to know each other better, since we’d be family and all. I’d just sent a silver ball screaming up the board and into the waiting maw of Jabba the Hutt at my favorite game in the arcade hall not far from White Box. The phone trilled.
Immediately, I let go of the buttons, saw my colleague’s name flashing across the screen, and answered the call from my guy on site at the club. “He’s here.”
I wanted to punch the sky. “I’m on my way. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
&
nbsp; Soon, I walked through the door of the club, the neon lights bright and beckoning. Once inside, I nodded to Curtis, who watched over the joint like a sentry. Curtis tipped his forehead to the cigar lounge.
I conveyed a silent thanks with my eyes, found my colleagues, and made my way to the lounge, two men behind me. I peered in through the glass window into the small room. A cloud of smoke engulfed three guys, and one of them laughed.
The man was bigger, brawnier, and tougher than the others, and even though I had never laid eyes on him before, I recognized TJ Nelson in seconds. The gold earring. The arms the size of barrels. The missing tooth now capped with a gleaming white one. And the tattoo on his right bicep.
Protect our own.
The last puzzle piece. The last man standing. Inhaling deeply, I reached for the door handle, turned it, and entered the dark, smoky room. There was no way out. Three pairs of eyes met me, and TJ’s were the hardest—dark brown, cold, and full of hate.
He didn’t say a word, just raised his chin, waiting for me to go first.
“TJ Nelson?”
“Maybe. Depends who you are,” the man said, his voice deep and menacing.
“I’m the man you’ve been avoiding for eighteen years. But your lucky streak ends tonight,” I said, moving quickly, brandishing my badge.
TJ’s hands darted behind his jacket, like he was hunting for a weapon, but I was faster, drawing my gun from my holster and aiming it. Since the other men had helped to lure him in and were actually working for us on this, I was sure TJ didn’t stand a chance—even when the broker wielded a long, gleaming knife.
Still.
I didn’t waver, keeping my focus on him, careful but ready.
His eyes turned to slits, and he raised the weapon. For a second, my blood went cold. The club had a metal detector for guns, but somehow TJ had managed to slip this knife through. This was precisely why I had needed to trap the guy, capture him in a corner, someplace my suspect would let down his guard.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” TJ hissed as he lifted the weapon higher.
“But I do. I absolutely do,” I said coolly, keeping the gun trained on the man I wanted behind bars.
TJ tried to stand up from the leather couch, but in a flash, my partners moved in, quickly overpowering him, each man pinning an arm. One grabbed the knife, and the other cuffed him.
Then, as I tucked my gun away, I said the words I’d wanted to announce for so long. “I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Thomas Paige. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
TJ’s eyes widened. The expression on his face was cold white fear.
Good.
As it should be.
As it absolutely should be.
58
Michael
Many glasses of champagne were raised. In the kitchen of my grandparents’ house, the very home that the Sloan siblings had bought for them a few years ago as our way of saying thanks, I lifted a glass. Cleared my throat. Said words I’d longed to say out loud.
“To justice. At long last,” I said.
“Hear! Hear!” It was a chorus sounded by everyone.
My grandmother nodded as a tear slipped from her eye. We clinked glasses, Brent, Ryan, Sophie, Elle, my grandparents, even Mindy was with us. I tapped my glass to the lowball glass of Diet Coke Colin held, and to the water glass in my pregnant sister’s hand. I suspected John would be in attendance at the next event, but for now he was still busy working, and I was glad of that. I hoped that Marcus would come back soon to join us. Maybe for Christmas.
“At last,” Victoria echoed, and we all drank.
There was something incredibly odd about celebrating an arrest. And yet, it wasn’t the least bit bizarre.
Since my world had been wrenched upside down and shattered eighteen years ago, I’d grown accustomed to these unexpected moments. In a family that had seen their father killed by their mother, that same mother in prison, and a half-brother born behind bars, life remained unexpected.
Celebrations could take on the strangest forms, moving well beyond the usual festive occasions of birthdays, anniversaries, and weddings.
I knocked back a hearty gulp of champagne and wrapped an arm around my grandmother. She looked up at me and flashed a smile brimming with relief.
That was what this feeling was.
The long, overdue exhalation.
It was blissful relief, hard-earned justice, and delicious victory. Nothing would ever change the course our lives had taken that fateful night, but at last, there was the promise of peace once again.
Shannon beamed, and Brent rubbed his hand on her belly. Sophie began slicing the cherry pie she’d made for the occasion, as Ryan once again thanked her for the key part she’d played in helping decode the names of the accomplices. Colin wrapped his arms around Elle and kissed her cheek, then whispered something in her ear. She shot him the sweetest smile, and for a moment, I found myself wondering if Colin would be down on one knee soon too, popping the question to the woman he loved.
Love.
There was so much of it here in this house. We had a surplus when it came to love. My brothers and sister. Their husbands, girlfriends, and fiancées. My grandparents. Even the dog had joined in, rubbing his side against my grandmother’s leg.
After I’d taken a bite of pie, my phone buzzed. Grabbing it from my back pocket, I felt my heart warm as I found a new photo from my woman.
A shot of her legs. It looked like she was sitting at a sidewalk café, and I could picture her perfectly—watching the world go by, observing it all, drinking it in, and thinking of me.
Annalise: Waiting for you. Not much longer.
I’d be seeing her in mere days. The past was behind me. The present was free of its weight. The future was in my grasp, on the other side of an ocean, waiting for me. I could have it, taste it, touch it, love it.
Love her, if she’d let me. I hoped, and I hoped, and I hoped that she was ready.
She was the love of my life, and I’d been given a second chance with her.
And if this whole situation’s long time coming had taught me anything, it was that I needed to seize it.
59
Annalise
Over the last few days, Michael and I had wandered across Paris, seeing museums, stopping at bakeries, popping into shops, strolling along the Seine, and flipping through vintage postcards at the street-side dealers.
Today, we made our way to the Marché aux Puces at Porte de Vanves, a massive weekend flea market spread across many blocks.
I took his hand, threading my fingers through his. He glanced down at our joined hands and dropped a kiss on my cheek. I shuddered at the sparks that raced through me, just from a little kiss. He was so affectionate. Holding my hand. Wrapping an arm around me. Planting kisses on my face. Anywhere and everywhere. I loved walking through Paris with him touching me so possessively, as if he was telling all the world that I belonged to him.
“My father and mother used to bring me here when I was younger. To this flea market,” I reminisced as we weaved through the crowds of shoppers along this stretch of vendors. “They loved to bargain shop. My father would come here to buy tools and skeleton keys and dusty old books. Funny thing is, he never actually used them. We had to donate them all when he passed away.”
“Why did he want them?”
“Honestly, I think he loved to haggle.”
Michael nodded. “Now that makes sense. I’m quite good at haggling. You should see me in action. It’s amazing that Ryan thinks he’s the negotiator of our firm, but really it’s me. I make sure we get the best deals.”
I squeezed his fingers. “Will you haggle for me, then?”
He arched an eyebrow, and we stopped, other bargain hunters bumping and nudging us as they pushed past.
He lower
ed his mouth to my ear. “Does that turn you on?”
I shivered in response. “I’m pretty much always turned on when I’m with you.”
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gritty, dirty.
Suddenly, the flea market had become foreplay, and Michael proved how much when he snagged a blue-and-white ceramic teapot that had caught my eye for twenty euros, down from its original fifty.
As we strolled away, he whispered to me, “Did it work?”
“Hot and bothered.”
“Let’s see how much.”
I tipped my head to a café across the street, the words Bouledogue painted across the front in red letters, alongside an illustration of a canine of the same breed. Once inside, we took the staircase to the basement where restaurant bathrooms were usually located. Michael rapped on the door. Empty.
He tugged me inside, locked the door, and hung the canvas bag with the teapot from a hook.
He thumbed the hem of my skirt. “I love that you wear skirts with me now.”
“I’ve learned my lesson.”
Wrapping an arm around me, he tilted up my chin so I looked at him. His eyes searched mine, full of so much passion that I heated up all over, my skin tingling. He pushed a strand of hair away from my face and kissed a path along my jawline. My legs turned to jelly. My knees went weak, and heat pooled between my legs. One kiss, one touch, and I was ready.
He ran a hand along the inside of my thigh, and I quivered, melting into him. He gripped my waist and backed me up so I was pressed against the door. Cupping my jaw in his hand, he gazed into my eyes. My mouth fell open, and the entirety of the universe narrowed to his beautiful face, to the way he stared at me, drawing out the anticipation. To his words as he said, “Now let me fuck you, my love.”
My Sinful Love (Sinful Men Book 4) Page 20
