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“Am I keeping you, Bullock ?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, because my phone rings. I pull it out of my briefcase, and it’s Amy. “One second,” I say as I leave the room to answer. I wander down the hall and lean against the wall nearest a window so I have some chance of picking up a signal .
“Amy, we’re still waiting on this Loretto guy. Just go ahead and clear my afternoon. I don’t know when we’re going to get out of here .”
Amy sighs. “Yeah, okay. But you were meeting with those guys from the Special Victims Bureau about the sex trafficking case connected to Adelardi .”
“Dammit. Reschedule them for eight a.m. tomorrow. I’ll come in early. I don’t want to put them off. Look, Amy, I have to get back in there. From the sound in the hall, it seems the detectives finally showed. If any other meetings come up,
just book me back-to-back tomorrow. I’ll stay late if I have to.” Hanging up without saying goodbye, I hustle back to the holding cell. I open the door and slide in backwards, trying not to cause a commotion .
“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 .
Chapter 48
“D etectives, 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 ?”
