Page 77 of His Pet

Or they knew Justin was here.

Fuck. I’ve been careless, taking him to Indulgence. Someone must have told the cops they saw Justin with me. Rossi recognized him, which means other people could have, too. I don’t think the Triton Syndicate leader himself would rat me out, not after making a public show of having my back, but there are still plenty of people who hate me.

Fucking Small. This is all his fault. If he hadn’t spread those stupid rumors…

I bet he’s rubbing his hands with glee right now. He’ll finally have me where he wants me, forced to choose between twenty years in jail and ratting out everyone I know. What he doesn’t understand is that if I talk, I’m dead, so it’s really no choice at all. Besides, I still have hope.

Justin said he wanted me. That he chose to stay. Will he say that to the cops too? Will he lie for me?

Or was this his doing after all? I’ve given him a lot of freedom in the past few days. He might have had a chance to snatch my phone and make a quick call.

The thought hurts more than I care to admit. Did Justin betray me? I want to believe in him, I really do, but it’s hard to when I’m cuffed in a cop car and my future is bleak as fuck.

Alright, Cameron. Stop whining and start doing something.

I can’t escape. There are too many cops around, I have no way of getting out of the cuffs, let alone out of the car, and I’m no Rambo. I’ll have to do this by the book. Obey, claim innocence, and stick to it no matter what they throw at me.

Other than what Justin tells them, they have no proof of any crimes. I wonder if I could somehow fight his accusations even if he talks. I’ll definitely need a lawyer. Good thing I already hired one to take on the lying piece of shit.

At the station, they leave me in the interrogation room for what feels like hours. “I want a lawyer,” I tell the camera watching me from the corner and whoever is standing behind the one-way glass. “I won’t say a single word without him present.” There’s no response. “And bring me some water.” I’m no law expert, but I bet they’re obligated to provide for my basic needs.

Sure enough, a few minutes later a young deputy places a plastic cup on the table, then disappears without a word. Fair enough. I can wait. They’re trying to make me nervous, but I can’t possibly get any more nervous than I already am. The wait is just giving me time to compose myself, to put a mask in place that will hide my anxiety.

More time passes, and still no one comes. I’m forced to ask for a bathroom break. Two deputies bring me, still cuffed, to a holding cell. One stays in the room while I use the toilet, like I’m some dangerous psycho who just went on a murder rampage. I’m tempted to point out how ridiculous it is, then remind myself I said I wouldn’t say anything without the lawyer. Where is he, anyway? He should be here already.

Finally, Small arrives, looking like the cat who just got the canary. “Mr. Matthews,” he says with a smirk. “We meet again.”

I snort. He’s such a textbook douche. He should be the one in handcuffs for being a walking cliché. “Where’s my lawyer?”

He shrugs, smiling innocently. “Bad traffic? I thought we could talk before he gets here.”

“I’m not telling you a thing.”

“Fine, you’ll just listen then.” He sits down across the table and steeples his fingers. “The thing is, you’re going to jail for a very long time. Your victim, Justin Palmer, told us everything. How you kidnapped him. Tortured him. We have a full rape kit that will no doubt match your DNA. He’s going to testify.”

Each sentence is like another nail in my coffin. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression level. Small gives me ample time to say something, but if he thinks he can wait me out, he’s got another thing coming. If Justin really did talk, it’s even more important for me to keep my mouth shut until I can talk to the lawyer.

If Justin talked.

Despite Small’s proud proclamations, I’m not convinced. Something doesn’t add up. He said Justin told them I kidnapped him, but that didn’t happen. Justin knows it was Mikhail who took him from his dorm, yet Small didn’t mention that. I also didn’t torture Justin. Not really. It was just fun, and he enjoyed it. He said he liked me.

Small’s confident. Almost too confident, as if it were just an act.

“I can help you,” he says, leaning so hard into the good cop role I cringe on behalf of every good cop ever. God, has he ever gotten anyone to confess? He’s so bad at it.

“But you have to help me in return,” he continues. He pushes a yellow legal pad toward me. “Give me something to work with, Mr. Matthews, and I can convince the DA to offer you a plea deal. I know your clients are into all kinds of illegal activities, and you’re well clued in to the specifics. After all, the information you provided in the case of Giovanni Ventresca has proven invaluable in disrupting his trafficking operation.”

“I never gave you any information, and you damn well know it,” I blurt out, too pissed to hold my tongue. “You falsified those reports. You’re the one who’s going to need that plea deal, Small. Not me. You don’t have shit against me.”

Barely leashed fury flashes in Small’s eyes. It’s gone in a moment, his expression smooth again, but I know I got him.

“We’ll see,” he grits out before storming out of the room. I’m all alone again, my ass aching from hours on the uncomfortable chair, but I feel like I won this round. Now the only thing that matters is Justin.

Did he talk?

Chapter 49

Justin