Page 135 of Fallen Rook

Zeke worked his jaw back and forth, making the connections in his head. “Mr. Ferrante, why don’t you step with me into my offi—”

“Lawyer,” I said again.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

Turning my back on Tom, and his offer, and his heart. Knowing that the genesis of us, the very thing that had snowballed into this moment, was that he’d sought me out to betray me, to ruin and destroy me.

“Enzo—”

“LAWYER.” I raised my voice, screaming now. “I have rights, goddammit, and I want to get arrested, so I can be processed and speak to my attorney.”

The commotion in the office was immediate. Zeke nodded once at Sully, who led me over to the end of the hallway, already making calls on his phone.

“Rothwell!” I heard Maddox roar behind my back, no doubt set on getting to the bottom of this mess. Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them into evaporation. My throat was tight.

This time I didn’t look back.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Tom

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Zeke looked shell-shocked. Sully was tapping his unlit cigarette on his thigh, staring at me like I’d just pushed a giant red button in a nuclear facility.

It looked bad. I’d known it would. I’d even anticipated the scenario in which Enzo would blow everything up.

He had.

But what killed me even more than our breakup was that he didn’t take the plea deal.

Forcing myself to be as unruffled as one could under the circumstances, I adjusted my expression and sank into my seat.

Time to lie through my teeth and dump two decades of reputation down the shitter for a man who wouldn’t even let me save him.

“I beg to differ. There is nothing to explain,” I began, lacing my fingers together. “You’ve both been kept up to speed on every detail of the operation. Zeke—you knew I was working on a plea deal for the younger Ferrante. I’d already told you he seemed the least violent, most likely to be rehabilitated, and even without his handing over trade secrets, a simple testimony from him would seal the deal. Sully—you were completely in the loop regarding my plans to use him as bait for the Bratva. As we know, he is engaged to the baby sister.”

For the past few weeks, I’d gone to terrifying lengths to find excuses to carve Enzo out of the Camorra operation and grant him immunity without forcing him to betray his clan. I’d chosen two semi-plausible excuses and wrung them dry. And, because I’d never been anything less than diligent, vigilant, and morally spotless, everyone around me had reluctantly agreed to play along, citing a rare error of judgment on my end, as opposed to lustful derangement.

“Rothwell, that man over there looked very comfortable pushing you around.” Zeke jerked a thumb in the direction Enzo was taken by police officers a few minutes ago. Sully snickered, the stench of stale alcohol wafted off his skin. “How close did you two get while you tried extracting intel?” Zeke asked.

I could recognize a drop of his cum in a three-gallon marinara sauce by taste alone. That close enough for you?

“We shot the shit, downed a few beers, sometimes played poker.” I waved him dismissively. “He felt that we were friends. I already told you, he is very naive. This is why I thought it’d be perfect to single him out.”

A lie chased a lie. I’d stooped frighteningly low in order to save this man. And I feared that in order to reach my objective, I’d hit many more. There wasn’t a moment in time in which I’d decided to sacrifice everything to save him. Rather, it was an instinct. One that overrode my favorite companions—logic and reason.

“What a complete shit show,” Sully announced. “I’m glad he didn’t take the deal. I want him in prison, where he belongs.”

I didn’t know how I found the strength not to strangle Sully for what he said, but I did. Zeke, however, was quiet. Contemplative. He stared at me, fascinated, like he had just worked something out in his brain, and everything was clicking into place.

“Sully,” Zeke said without taking his eyes off me.

“Hmm?”

“Give us some privacy.”