to the buyers as a sign from us that we weren’t willing to partake in that aspect of the business. Our hands won’t be forced. If they didn’t know it then, well they sure as fuck know it now.
“Do you have any information regarding Petrov's whereabouts?” She leans forward, and I have to resist looking straight down her blouse. Her body is lean and toned with a touch of color from the sun, but her tits are bigger than you’d think they’d be for a woman as athletic as her.
I give her a weak smile and shake my head no again. I’m grateful for the bit of information she’s given me, if it’s true, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna talk. I need to know if the woman she mentioned was alive when we left. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before the cops got there. But a lot can happen in twenty minutes.
As if reading my mind, she answers my unspoken question. “Drug overdose,” she says simply. My lips press into a tight line and my heart sinks. Maybe if my brother had seen her, like the other women, maybe he could’ve saved her. I drop my gaze to the edge of the table as I try to keep calm and not give her anything.
“She’d been dead for almost a day, judging by the autopsy.” My eyes fly to hers. Thank fuck. That makes me feel better. I feel like an asshole for feeling any kind of relief. That poor woman didn’t deserve to die, but at least she didn’t die on our watch. We never had the opportunity to save her.
I run a hand through my hair and look at the closed door.
“Do you have any details that could help us uncover who was responsible?” I hear her sweet voice and I almost turn to her to answer, but I can’t. We don’t say shit except for what I’ve already given them. I’m waiting on my lawyer. That’s the familia way.
“You don’t have any fucking sympathy, do you?” Harrison starts up again with his shit from across the table. “The jury’s gonna eat you alive.” I resist rolling my eyes and sigh instead. This is fucking draining. Usually I don’t give a fuck, but I am a bit worried. I don’t like the sick feeling in my gut that keeps rising up on me.
“Are you charging me? If not, I’m gonna go ahead and leave,” I say, looking at the door. I’m tired of waiting. I just want to get the hell out of here.
Harrison shoots up from his seat. I know he’s coming over to get in my face. I stand up as he walks around the table. They can keep me here longer for questioning. I know that. But he’s fucking lost it if he thinks he’s gonna yell standing over me while I’m sitting down. That shit’s not gonna fly.
I stand up and stare back at his narrowed eyes. I vaguely sense that the cute ass broad got up from her seat and is backing away. That puts me at ease. She doesn’t need to get into this. She can keep playing the good cop part and stay the fuck out of the bad cop shit.
Harrison's body bumps into mine slightly, but I allow it. I know he’s pushing me. He’s done it before. Sometimes I get a little hotheaded. More than I should. But when you’re here, in this position, you keep your cool. Otherwise you’re just giving them a reason to keep you locked up. And that's the last thing I want.
“I’ll charge you with everything possible, to the full extent of the law. Your ass isn’t leaving here tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next day.” I focus my eyes on his crooked smile and imagine my fist slamming into it over and over. “Your big shot lawyer isn’t getting you out of this one, Valetti.”
His hands knock into my chest, palms first and push me backward ever so slightly. I’m a big fucker, and that’s a bold fucking move for this little prick. I make a white-knuckled fist with my hand and clench my teeth.
Before I can even think about swinging, I feel the softest touch on my forearm. Gentle, but firm. And then it’s gone. I don’t turn to face her; I don’t make any move that I even registered her touch. Harrison’s yelling in my face, but my anger is gone and instead I find myself angling my