Page 23 of Filthy Truth


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“What is her cause?”

“The CIA recruited Troy while she was with the LVPD. She graduated out of the academy top of her class and walked a beat for a while, but then she made a couple snappy arrests and it green-lit her.

“She’s fucking fast with a rifle, not as accurate as Cin, but a quick and solid shot. Plus, it’s whacko how many languages she speaks.”

“Didn’t think they’d have wanted her with her past,” he admitted.

“You’d be astonished by what they’ll accept if it fits their current agenda."

“I’m surprised you’d know all that but not about her family.”

“She isn’t exactly the sharing type. Alberto De Laurentiis told me.”

He frowned at me. “De Laurentiis? The previous Don of the Camorra?”

I grunted. “I knew him through my dad. He told me he fed her resume to the alphabets.”

“Why?”

“He was a clever old coot.” A soft laugh escaped me as something hit home after I’d spent years wondering... “Bet he knew about her family and used that as leverage. More than likely bit him in the ass though. Doubt she’d take being blackmailed lying down.”

“Did he have anything on you?”

I chuckled. “Photos of bad haircuts when I was a kid? Definitely. Savannah, Camden, and I got wasted too many times to count, and I’d hazard a guess and say that he knew the shit we got up to and could have used it if he wanted, but he didn’t. He liked me.” I thought back to this past year and how crazy it had been. “I’ll miss the old bastard.” If my tone was wistful, so be it. “He was so fucking clever. Always ten steps ahead. A bitch to beat at chess.”

“Did you ever win?”

I smiled. “Once or twice.”

“You have anything to do with his death?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed. “Your ‘maybes’ are starting to give me heartburn.”

“At least I’m not the only one dealing with that,” I groused.

“You have heartburn?”

“Never mind.” I cleared my throat. “He asked me for my help. Who was I to ignore a friend in need?”

“He asked for help in dying?”

“He wasn’t going to rot in jail for the rest of his days. I couldn’t blame him.”

Never let it be said the man wasn’t smart—he knew I didn’t want to talk about this, so he asked, “You accepted the CIA’s offer because of your mom?”

“Yeah. Figured I might be able to get some answers into her death if I was on the inside. Ya know, more than, ‘She died. Get over it.’”

He squeezed my fingers in commiseration. “Bet you never imagined what you’d be wading into.”

“No, but…” I sighed. “I’ve never been good at keeping my nose out of shit. Always had my own morals and used those as a measure rather than blindly following how the government would like me to be.

“Even if Reinier hadn’t used the Sparrows to shut me up when I started making noises about a double agent and the looting of priceless artifacts, I had a feeling it’d get me killed.”

“What?!”

“Someone was making a lot of money, Conor. If you make waves when millions are on the line, you end up in a box draped in the stars and stripes.

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