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I nod to Pasquale. “My associate escorted him out personally.”
Pasquale nods. “His limo was called and the last we saw of him, he was heading toward the gates. It’s all on CCTV if you want to look for yourself.”
The detective nods and says, grim-faced. “His limo was found at the end of the street, his driver’s throat cut and the senator minus his heart.”
The air is tense as I process this information because what the actual fuck is happening right now?
There is silence as we wait for the detective to speak and, with a sigh, he glances around the room.
“A dog walker called it in, and the scene has been sealed. We have stopped anybody leaving and will require your cooperation.”
“How?”
“Fingerprints, witness statements from your guests. This is now a crime scene, and it won’t be long before the press get to hear of this and it becomes a circus.”
I stare at him thoughtfully, a thousand possibilities running through my mind because this is shaping up to be a fucking headache for me.
The detective exhales sharply. “I will start with you, Mr. Ortega. If you can dismiss your men, I will take your statement while my detectives take your, um, associates’ statements. I’m sure you understand these must be done in complete privacy and then we will start with your guests.”
“Of course.” I glance up at Pasquale, who appears as mystified as I am, and I know they are giving us no opportunity to align our stories. As the room starts to empty the detective says casually, “Are there any other guests we need to locate? It appears that some were found in your private rooms and have been asked to join the rest in the ballroom. We have a warrant to search this house, but it would help us greatly if you could direct us to the right place.”
I sense the anger building inside me as my world is ripped apart before my eyes, but I know cooperation is needed right now. Senator Billings isn’t your average Joe, and his death will be all over the press in a matter of minutes. I am an easy fall guy and an attractive one. The authorities have longed to pin something on me and my family and this could be the gift they’ve been searching for.
“My girlfriend.”
I lean back with a sigh. “You interrupted us, so I should head back and inform her.”
“Just tell us where she is, and my men will fetch her.”
“No fucking way.” I glare at him, and he has the sense to back down immediately and says with a sigh, “Then I will walk with you.”
My temper is starting to worry me now because I am so close to unleashing it on him, but I grind my teeth instead and stand, heading straight from the room without a backward glance, hearing him rush hastily to his feet and scurry behind me.
As I pass through the hallway, I note the painting on the wall that disguises the hidden door to my chamber. At least that’s one thing less to worry about because even if they did discover it, which is extremely unlikely, it merely reveals a wine cellar disguising the entrance to my house of horrors. The fact the chamber is soundproofed makes me wish I had chained Flora to that wall instead. She would have remained undiscovered, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the problem that is facing me now.
As we reach my private quarters, I point to the couch and growl, “Wait there. There is no fucking way you are seeing my girlfriend until she is respectable.”
He makes to object, and I growl, “Non-negotiable.”
He has the sense to shut his mouth and then open it as he says quickly, “One minute, Mr. Ortega, and keep the door open.”
My blinding rage threatens to send me to jail as my gun lies heavy against my side, aching to be unleashed on the detective but I fight it down and head into my room, raising my finger to my lips when Flora makes to yell at me.
I waste no time in reaching for her cuffed wrists and releasing her, say in a low angry whisper, “We have visitors, darling. It appears that your date never made it home and they want answers. Remember, you are my girlfriend, and I will protect you. If you tell him anything but how much you fucking love me, I will punish you. Got it?”
Her eyes are wide as I pick up her discarded dress and pull it over her head, only to find I did a pretty good job of ruining it as it hangs ripped to shreds on her shivering body.
With an irritable sigh, I pull her with me into the closet and drop one of my sweatshirts over her head, noting how it falls to her knees, effectively disguising every one of her curves from the enemy.
Then, as I grip her hand, I whisper, “Play along, sweetheart, and you’ll live another day. Protect me and I protect you. You know how it works.”
I’m uneasy because this could end badly for me and yet I breathe a sigh of relief when she nods. “OK.”
The tightening of her hand in mine tells me that Flora Corlietti knows exactly how this all works, and I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or not.
CHAPTER9
FLORA
