by Tia Siren
“My apologies, gentlemen, but there was some business back at the office that couldn’t…”
I turn around, and sitting in the chair in front of Alexander is the guy from last night. The guy I slept with in a posh hotel room. The guy with the perfect, most delectable cock I’ve ever seen. Except he’s not one of the detectives; he’s the guy in the temporary jail uniform of a pale blue jumpsuit and handcuffs. I stop dead in my tracks, and find that I can’t seem to process words. His face may be a blank slate, but I can see in his eyes that he wasn’t expecting to see me either.
3
“Detectives, this is ADA Harlow Bullock. She’ll be assisting me today. Perhaps you can fill her in on what you just told me.”
I tentatively sit down in the chair next to Alexander, unable to take my eyes off of the man whose name is, apparently, Vincent. He is watching me like a hawk, his eyes both wide and languorous, the same eyes that were so intently burning through me just a few hours before.
“This morning, we got a tip that the number-one hatchet man for the Adelardi family was holed up in a hotel in Chelsea. Found him alone, sleeping like a baby in his birthday suit.”
I clear my throat, trying to avoid eye contact with Vincent. “Who was the tip from? How do you know this is…who they said he is?”
The second detective looks at me like I have centipedes falling out of my ears. “It was an anonymous tip. And this guy has been seen with Durante Adelardi for years.”
“Like I’ve been saying since you assholes picked me up. I am an entertainment attorney. I work in contracts. Durante Adelardi is a friend of my father’s. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I am not a hit man. I have never killed a person on behalf of the mob in my life. This is absolutely insane.”
I blanch as he speaks, suddenly flooded by memories of his voice, so raspy and deep, yet soothing and gentle. The accent is far more pronounced when he’s frustrated, and I feel my stomach coiling in knots. Get it together, Bullock!
“So, I take it you’re not just going to confess and save us all a lot of paperwork?” Alexander asks arrogantly. Vincent leans forward on the table.
“I’ll talk. But only to her.” Vincent points at me, and my heart drops. All of the other men in the room turn and look at me.
“It doesn’t work like that, Mr. Loretto. You don’t get to make the rules,” Alexander answers, annoyed. But I reach out and tap his arm.
“Alexander, I don’t see any reason why we can’t attempt to be reasonable here. Why don’t you give me a minute alone with Mr. Loretto here, and we’ll see what we can come up with?”
Alexander gives me a long, withering scowl, then gets to his feet and straightens his jacket. “The detectives and I will be in the hallway. Right outside the door. You have five minutes.”
The three men walk stiffly out of the room and leave Vincent and me to an awkward, tension-filled silence. After a minute, Vincent opens his mouth to speak, but I hold my hand up.
“Mr. Loretto, we have a limited amount of time here. So whatever it is you want to tell me, perhaps we should skip any pleasantries and get right to the matter at hand.”
“Vince.”
I look up from my empty notepad. “Excuse me?”
“Call me Vince. Not Vincent. Not Mr. Loretto. Vince.”
I cough nervously, and feel like I’m babbling. “Yes, well, be that as it may, Vince…nt Loretto, if we’re going to prove you’re not connected to the Adelardi family in more than a social way, you’re going to have to provide us some evidence.”
“Isn’t it my lawyer’s job to prove I’m not in the mob? Not the assistant district attorney’s?”
Right. He’s a lawyer, too. Stop babbling.
“Vince, can you tell me why you believe someone would call the police and tell them that you are a hit man for the Adelardi crime family?”
Vince sits back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I know that it’s not in my best interest to talk to you without my attorney, but what can I say, Miss Bullock? I trust you.”
“Harlow. You can call me Harlow.”
“I’d hope so,” Vince grins. “Harlow, I only recently found out what Durante Adelardi and his family were involved in. My father was also an attorney, and we weren’t close. When he passed away this past winter, he requested that I come here from my office in California and settle his estate, as well as his cases.” He clears his throat, and pierces me again with his blue eyes before continuing. “Now, I had met Adelardi over the years in passing, but I draft contracts for hip-hop labels and Hollywood starlets. I’m not about to kill anyone for money. As soon as I discovered what Adelardi had been up to, and found proof of it in my father’s files, I started collecting evidence. I was in the process of putting it all together to bring to your office when this happened. I suspect Adelardi found out what I was up to and fabricated this story to try and discredit me.”
“So, you’re saying you’ve been framed?” My inner skeptic kicks in, because I’ve heard this story a thousand times. Everyone was supposedly framed, unless they were so-called innocent.
“I’m sure you hear that all the time, ADA Bullock, Harlow, but in this case, I assure you. It’s the truth. And if you help me get bail, I can prove it to you. But there is nothing I can do from in here. If I don’t get out of this room, and soon, Adelardi is going to have my offices and home torn apart until they find what they are looking for.”
I lean back in the cold, uncomfortable chair and my mind starts running. “Did you know who I was?”
Vince looks at me, confused. “I’m sorry?”
I don’t know for sure that Alexander and the cops aren’t listening, so I have to watch what I say. “Did you. Know. Who. I. Was.”
Vince thinks for a moment, and then it clicks. “Oh. I did.”
“So, it was intentional? You picked me on purpose?”
His face gets serious, and he leans forward, then gestures for me to do the same. When we’re close enough to almost touch, he whispers under his breath, “You are the most brilliant, beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Harlow Bullock. That’s why I picked you.” The warmth of his words against my cheek send a shiver down my spine, and the only reason I don’t dive across the table and kiss him right there is because the door opens and startles us both.
Alexander stalks over, his face bright red. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Loretto.”
I stand up from the desk and the chair skitters on the floor behind me. “I think we are as well, Alexander. From what I see in this file, you barely have anything to hold this man, let alone charge him. The only evidence you have are some photos of him with a man he has readily admitted he knows. Perhaps, if you ask nicely, Mr. Loretto will surrender his passport and agree to stay in the city. In that time, you can prove, or disprove your case against him, rather than deal with a costly false imprisonment lawsuit later. I think that’s more than fair, don’t you?”
The detectives look at each other, annoyed, and Alexander points to the door. I follow him outside, and he slams it shut behind us.
“What the hell are you doing, Harlow?” he growls at me.
“Alexander, those detectives haven’t got a shred of evidence outside of the word of an anonymous tipster and some pictures. You’re rushing to prosecute him because you want another win, and instead you’ll have a big mistake. Be smart.” I tuck the files in my briefcase, hoping he won’t notice that I’m trying to sneak out with them so I can get a good look at them before he demands them back.
“Are you sure there isn’t another reason you’re so interested in keeping him out of prison? You two looked awfully cozy in there.”
I shoot him daggers. “I won’t dignify that with a response, Alexander. I’m telling you, you’re making a huge mistake. Let the man go. We can follow up on this, slowly.”
Alexander snarls, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows I’m right. My personal feelings about the situation aside, this was a rush to judgment on ever
yone’s part, and whether or not they want to admit it, they’re going to regret it later. Alexander turns to go but before he can get to the door, he turns back to me.
“Are you going back to the office?”
I hesitate. Amy has already cleared my day, so there is no reason I can’t work from home. It would be easier to go over the files I’ve snatched from the relative safety of my apartment, as opposed to in the office, where I have a good chance of getting caught.
“I am going to head to the law library for a while. I need some quiet to finish this paperwork and read a few briefs before I meet with the SVB tomorrow. But I’ll have my cell on me if you need me. And Amy is at the office if it’s an emergency.”
Alexander nods, then disappears back in the holding cell, and I run out of the building before anyone can stop me.
4
I yawn and sip from my glass of ruby red wine, then flip over the Miles Davis album I am listening to. I’ve been going through the files I nipped from Alexander all night, and have yet to find any concrete connection between Vince and the Adelardi family, other than via Vince’s father. Jason Loretto was a prominent criminal defense attorney in Manhattan and had worked almost exclusively for the Adelardis for thirty years, so he knew plenty. But Vince wasn’t lying; all of his own business was in California, and the few pictures of him with Durante seemed to be from office holiday parties and the rare dinner out.
The transcript of the call from the anonymous source is shoddy at best, and the information sounds obviously loaded. My main concern at this point is the fact that whoever knew Vince was at the hotel could just as easily know I was there with him, and if so, that means I’m a target as well. I sigh as I slide all of the photos back into the file and then set the file on my coffee table. I look at the clock and see that it’s after midnight, and since I have an eight a.m. meeting, I should probably go to sleep. But just as I get up to head to my bedroom, there is a knock on the door that makes my heart leap into my throat. There is no way that anyone should have made it past the doorman without being announced.
I open the side-table drawer next to my couch and pull out the .357 revolver my father gave me for protection. I haven’t so much as touched it since he gave it to me, but this is the time to be safe, rather than sorry. With the gun at my side, I inch over to the door, and look out the peep hole. All I see is someone’s back.
“Who’s there? How did you get past the doorman?” I yell through the wood. The person on the other side turns around, and it’s Vince. He’s wearing a wool cap with a hoodie over top of it, but it’s definitely him. Once I’m sure the chain is secured, I crack the door open, and peek through.
“I have a gun,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. He smiles at me.
“That’s probably a good idea, given your job. I’m sure a lot of shady characters aren’t big fans. Harlow, may I please come in? I promise I have no intention of hurting you.”
The look in his eyes is solid. I nod, and unlatch the chain. “Fine. But I’m not putting the gun away.”
“Fair,” he says as he steps inside my apartment. As he walks by me, his manly scent overwhelms me, and I’m once again wracked my memories of our night together. It’s a heady sensation, and I have to take a few steps toward the kitchen to break the spell he has over me.
“How the hell did you find out where I live, Vince? And how did you get past security?”
Vince shrugs. “I’m a member of the bar, Harlow. I have connections. As far as your doorman, he was asleep. I just followed someone else in.”
I roll my eyes. “So much for a secure building. What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you. And it couldn’t wait.”
I survey his appearance. Besides the hoodie, he’s wearing sweatpants and sneakers. Except for the chain around his neck and the faint lines of the tattoos above the collar of the sweatshirt, you wouldn’t necessarily recognize him if he walked right past you. He looks just like any other guy, any other extremely buff guy, out for a midnight run.
“Did you just come from the gym or something?”
Vince chuckles. “I wish. I’m flying under the radar, so to speak. After you left the precinct, it took another five hours for the cops and your boss to let me go. By the time I got to my office, it had been completely trashed. Adelardi’s guys were obviously there, looking for this.” He pulls the chain hanging from his neck out from under his shirt, and shows me the cross hanging from it.
“Why would they want your necklace?” I ask, still keeping my distance and clutching the gun. Vince snaps the end off of the cross, and I see that it’s a USB drive.
“I’m actually insulted that they think I’d be stupid enough to leave the evidence I have against against them just sitting around my office. The problem is, I know they’re looking for me, and I don’t know how long I can outrun them, especially when I don’t know who I’m hiding from. Adelardi has a hell of a reach. Anyone could be working for him.”
I step back until I hit the wall, panic making me sick. “And you came to my apartment? You could have led them here! They probably already know I was with you last night, Vince. I have enough problems with the Adelardi family after putting Carlo behind bars, without you dragging me into the center of things. What were you thinking?”
Vince crosses over to where the bottle of wine is sitting on my coffee table, and takes a long slug from it, then sits down on the couch.
“Honestly, I had nowhere else to go, Harlow. All of my friends are in California, my mother died a decade ago, and my legal assistant here isn’t exactly equipped for drama. She’s barely equipped to be a legal assistant. You’re all I have.”
A lump catches in my throat as I sit down next to him. I’m scared to let him stay, but it might be worse for me if people see him leaving my place. “Okay,” I say reluctantly, “you can stay here. But I have to be at work early tomorrow. I will have a word with security about making sure no one comes in. And you sleep on the couch.”
He gives me a slight pout, but I know I need to be firm on this. I need to keep my head on straight, and I won’t be able to do that if he’s scrambling my brains with his silken touch. Vince scoots a little bit closer to me, his arm brushing up against me, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead into mine. I feel my heart start to beat faster.
“Are you sure I have to sleep on the couch?” he asks in a whisper. “It’ll be torture.” I feel my resolve starting to crumble, when a noise from the direction of the door draws both of our attention.
“What the hell was that?” I ask as I reach for the gun. But Vince stretches out first, and covers my hand, over top of the gun. Then he lifts my hand, and takes the gun himself. Suddenly, he’s checking the ammunition and wielding it like a pro. I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Are you sure you’re a lawyer?”
He winks at me. “I wasn’t always a lawyer. Stay there.” He gets up from the couch, and inches slowly over to the entrance, where the handle turns ever-so-slightly from the outside, and I jump. Vince waves at me to be still. Then he moves to the side of it. Once he’s positioned behind the door, he gestures for me to get behind the arm of the couch, which gives me a hiding place between the couch and the wall. I’m just about to ask him what exactly is going on, when out of nowhere, the door slams open, shattering the frame and breaking the chain. I have to cover my mouth not to scream as three men come bursting into my apartment, two of them with guns, and one with a knife.
I have no idea what to do; my phone is plugged in to the charger in the bedroom and I am not exactly equipped to defend myself in hand-to-hand combat. But it doesn’t take long for me to realize that it’s not needed. Vince jumps out from behind the door and takes out one of the men right away with the butt of the gun, smashing it into his temple and sending him crumpling to the ground. The bigger of the two remaining men turns his gun on Vince, who disarms him, takes his gun, then debilitates him with a kick to the crotch, a punch to the stomach, an
d a second punch to the neck.
The only man left standing is the one with the knife. Breathing hard, he takes a stab at Vince, who deftly dodges him with a jump backwards. When the man tries to stab him again, this time he makes contact with Vince’s arm. My heart drops. Vince looks up from where his arm is bleeding through the hoodie, and snarls at the man. He tucks the gun in his waistband and lifts up his fist. In one swift and unexpected movement, he kicks the knife out of the man’s hand, then punches him square in the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Even from the other side of the room, I hear the sound of bones crunching, and it makes my stomach roll. The man wobbles a few times, then collapses in a heap on top of the other two men on the floor.
I don’t know what to do. I just stay frozen in my hiding spot, squatting on the floor, shaking and terrified.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Vince turns to me with a sigh. “Get dressed. Fast. Grab anything you need, and I mean need, and throw it in a bag you can carry on your back. Leave your phone. We have to get out of here.”
I start to stammer objections, but Vince cuts me off. “Harlow, we don’t have time to argue about this. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding in my arm, and you’re going to pack. And then we’re going to get out of here before the cops show up.”
“Don’t we want the cops to show up?”
Vince shakes his head with a sad smile. “Honey, for a smart woman, you are incredibly naïve. I have no idea which cops are in Adelardi’s pocket, and we can’t take a chance that one of his detectives is going to show up here and try to arrest us. We need to get out of here, get the evidence off the drive, and get it to someone I trust before they can catch up with us again.”
I finally get to my feet and inch toward the bedroom, afraid any noise is going to somehow rouse the men on the floor. “There has to be someone in my office that can help us.”
