Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He's fighting hard to keep it together, only that doesn't stop him from trembling, no matter how he tries to laugh everything off. I've watched men spiral through the different reactions of getting caught red-handed. This is nothing new.
“I still don't understand what this has to do with me,” he insists. “For one thing, it isn't like guys on the take announce it to the rest of the department. How would anyone know for sure?”
“Ken. You realize I could have taken this information directly to Charlie and let him do what he wants with it? I brought you here out of respect and with an understanding that this is a very complicated situation. The least you can do is man up and quit the bullshit.”
“I cannot believe I came here to be insulted.” He blurts out a bitter laugh as he stands. “This is insanity. Are you this desperate to show Bianca what a decent man you're trying to become? It's going to backfire, big time.”
“I confirmed it with his son,” I murmur, freezing him in place. “Sebastian Costello. He was here the day Charlie kicked my ass. You saw each other.”
“And I noticed the way he looked at you,” Romero adds, his voice so low I could almost call it apologetic. “Like he had seen you before.”
“And when I asked him,” I continue, “he confirmed having seen you in his father's office more than once when he was younger. Many times, I believe he said.” Romero's head bobs up and down slowly in confirmation.
He's trapped. He knows it. It's in the way his face sags and his shoulders slump before he lowers himself into the chair once again. “I know it's early,” he mutters, “but do you think I could have a drink?”
I give Romero a slight nod, and he goes to the bar, pouring two fingers of whiskey, which he hands to a shaking Ken. “Listen, I'm not here to give you shit over taking the money. We've paid our fair share to different contacts in the department over the years. And if a man could make a decent living in law enforcement, he wouldn't have to rely on... other sources of income.”
“I needed the money,” he murmurs, staring down into his glass. “My wife didn't recover well after she gave birth to our second kid. The bills piled up and I was drowning.”
“As I said, I get it. And Salvatore Costello must have seemed like a safe bet. He had a reputation for being a decent guy. It's a big part of the reason I got into business with him in the first place. He wasn't a hot-tempered sort of guy. And he lived by a code.”
“That's what I told myself,” he mutters before sipping his drink. “If I had to get into bed with somebody like that, I wanted it to be someone who wasn't out there shedding blood and destroying families.”
“But he did destroy a family, didn't he?”
His head snaps up. “I don't—”
“Ken, what did I say? Don't waste my time, and don't fucking lie to me. When I think about it, it makes perfect sense. I'm not saying you had anything to do with it.”
“I didn't. I swear to God, I didn't.”
“But he did have her killed, didn't he?”
His jaw ticks before his eyes fill with tears. That surprises me. I didn't expect the tears. The excuses, yes, but tears, definitely not. “It was supposed to be Charlie. He knew Charlie was after you and didn't want to get caught up in any of it. He paid me to…”
“He first approached you to get Charlie off my back, didn't he?”
“Yeah.” He snorts before throwing back the rest of the whiskey. “Look what a good job I did. I begged him so many times. To think about Jess and Bianca. To think about his job, to try to nail all the other bad guys out there.”
“You were unsuccessful,” I sigh. “So Sal decided to go ahead and take care of things.”
“I swear to God, if I had known...” He places the glass on my desk before bending forward, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The slight shaking of his shoulders tells me what I need to know. He doesn't want me to see the tears he can't hold back.
“She took his car that day, didn't she? And the gunman had no idea.”
“I don't know the details.” His voice is thick with emotion, shaky. “But as soon as I heard, I knew what happened. I went to Sal as soon as it felt safe and told him I knew what he did. I'm surprised I made it out of there alive. I was half out of my mind, horrified, grieving. She was my best friend's wife; she had a little girl. She was a special person. It shows he wasn't a total fucking monster at his core, or he could have had me executed.”