against the door. “Would you prefer I brought back up?”
The question is either rhetorical or a waste of breath. “Only if you wanna stay in the hall.”
“Quit being a dick. I figured you could use some companionship.”
“That I gotta pay for?”
“You make me sound like a hooker.”
“If the loafer fits,” I grumble.
“I might be here to help, but don’t expect any sexual favors. The fuzz can’t deny me access to provide legal advice and representation. Think of this as a professional bonding session. A conjugal visit with your honey is off the table. For now,” he placates.
“All right, I guess you pass.” I unlock the deadbolt and remove the security chain.
“You’re hunkered down tighter than Fort Knox.” Paul chuckles while striding into my living room.
“Pretty sure a little paranoia is warranted. Not that staying in is my problem. Or choice, for that matter.”
He passes me a coffee before sitting on the sofa. “I’ll be quick to admit you’re getting a raw deal. Let’s try to remain positive and assume the restrictions will be lifted soon.”
I lower myself to the empty spot beside him. “How long am I gonna be forced to stay in seclusion?”
His hand smooths over the ragged armrest. “Until the cops feel secure enough to let you roam free?”
“Because I’m a danger to society or the threats against me?”
“A little of both?” The uncertainty he’s spewing at me is beginning to claw at my skin.
I curl my hands into trembling fists. “I’d never hurt anyone. Violence isn’t my game, man. Assault isn’t why I was locked up.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” I pin him with a scowl, and he has the decency to flinch. “All right, that was a poorly timed phrase.”
I take a sip of coffee. “Any updates?”
Paul tosses me a wolfish grin. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that Stefano is losing his shit. All that power melting away must hurt a man’s pride.”
Hearing that should get some sort of reaction from me. A few months ago, I would’ve been out of my seat and pumping a fist into the air. Now? My pulse barely rises. “About damn time someone ruffled his feathers. He’s been coasting under the radar like a fucking king.”
“And he’s finding that being a caged rat doesn’t have the same appeal.”
“Isn’t he out on bail until his trial is complete? His entire operation, too?”
“Eh, most of them couldn’t come up with that amount of cash. Stefano might not be behind bars, but his leash is damn short.”
“So, what? I have to be under house arrest for my own good until he’s proven guilty?”
“They’re fairly confident that Stefano isn’t stupid enough to attack you again. Not with an entire police force watching his every move. It shouldn’t be much longer until they clear you.”
I hate the ugliness mere thoughts of that man dredge up. “Give it to me straight. How much longer, Paul?”
“Just sit tight and be patient.” He grips my shoulder, giving me a shake.
I shrug him off. “You’re less helpful than Detective Wyllis. At least he brings me donuts.”
He rewards that comment with a smack to my chest. “Fucker. I take offense to your snarky attitude.”
“If you’d bring me a beer, I might be more pleasant.”
“Buy your own booze,” he gripes. “I’m only required to provide advice in your case.”
“Am I allowed to leave long enough for a liquor run?” No lie, chugging several cold ones is sure to put me at ease.
“I’ll look into it for you. Leaving you dry and not high isn’t good for morale.”
I feel my features smooth into a flat mask. “Your empathy deserves an award.”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Paul claps and relaxes into the work cushions. “While we’re on the subject of my financial stability, let’s discuss your mental wellbeing. Is your mind settled? Does this situation feel complete?”
There’s no smoke billowing underneath the surface, but the snap comes all the same. “Will it ever? They’re responsible for stealing five years of my life. Not sure that’s something I’ll ever move past. But what are my choices? Stew in misery while plotting their demise? Waste more of my time obsessing over the retribution I’m owed? Turn back the clock so none of this happened? It’s all a dead end that I’m better off trying to swerve beyond. I’m not sure what type of revenge I would be capable of delivering. Rotting in prison is about the worst consequence. The end result would be the same, regardless of who’s responsible. This is just far