Page 70 of Souls and Sorrows

“Wow, really? That’s actually brand-new information.”

The new, lanky officer puts his hands on his belt, leaning against the back wall. “So, at least one rumor about you is true then. Youarea bitch.”

Irritation threads through my bones. “If this is how you conduct all of your interrogations, I’m not surprised that your solved case rate is so low.”

“Costs the chief money to solve cases that are usually products of people like your dad,” the officer from before says, removing the radio from the band on his bicep. “Why take the risk?”

I tug my wrists against the handcuffs, testing to see how difficult it would be to wriggle out of them. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to, but these are a bit snugger than the others I’ve been in.

“Now,” the lanky one says, “you can choose to be cooperative, or you can keep playin’ dumb. But that isn’t gonna change the fact that your father’s dead body is sittin’ uptown with more holes in it than a slice of Swiss cheese, so if you’re thinkin’ of protecting him, there’s no reason to—”

The door to the room bursts open, knocking down a few pictures as the handle lodges into the wall.

Cash’s tall frame fills the doorway, his jaw clenched so tight that dimples form in his cheeks. His eyes flare behind his glasses with a murderous rage, and he scans the room, chest heaving when he settles on me.

Excitement flourishes in my veins, like tiny fireworks exploding in my stomach.

“Don’t say another word,” he snarls, stalking toward me. “This ishighlyunethical. I should have your badges for this.”

“We have a warrant—”

“Your warrant is bullshit, and you know it. That’s why you waited for Ariana to be alone before you accosted her. If Judge Pottifer wasn’t on a cruise right now, I’d have a countersuit already in motion for the unlawful detainment of my wife.”

Heat floods between my thighs, and I press them together in an attempt to quell the sudden ache there.

“We’re only asking her a few questions.”

“On what grounds, Butera?”

The stocky one—who must be Butera—tugs at his collar. “We aren’t at liberty to discuss that—”

Cash laughs, but the sound is hollow and maniacal as it wrenches from his throat. “Then, you’re done asking questions.” His hand comes around my bicep, and he tries to yank me from the seat, but the cuffs prevent mobility.

The air shifts as Cash’s chin turns down, and he takes in the fact that I’m half-naked in my pajamas and bound to the spot. It thins out, like the pressure is escaping to make room for hot, electric wrath. I press my lips together, mentally preparing myself for an onslaught of anger. I’m conditioned to expect violence, so my body tenses up, priming itself for the throwing of fists or chairs.

It doesn’t come, of course, because Cash isn’t like that.

His fury is quiet and instantaneous, giving its victims no time to prepare for the storm.

“Uncuff her,” he snaps, voice low. When neither officer makes a move, his foot lashes out, kicking one of the metal table legs. “Now.”

Butera finally gets up, though he’s still moving rather slowly for my liking. He sneers down at me as he fishes the key from the breast pocket of his uniform, then slowly inserts it into the metal, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

I don’t look away, if only because I’m sure that’s what he wants.

He grunts as the cuffs release, and I pull my lip back in disgust, pushing to my feet. Butera doesn’t take a step back, forcing me to knock into him as I stand, and Cash shoves the chair out of the way, creating room for me.

“Her coat,” he snaps, and the nameless one slips out of the room, coming back seconds later with the tan cashmere coat Cash grabbed for me before we left the apartment earlier.

Draping the coat over my shoulders, his hand finds my lower back, and he ushers me out of the room, fingers hot where they press into me. Once I’ve crossed the threshold, I see Elena standing there with a look of utter irritation on her face, and I grimace for a moment, thinking it’s directed at me.

She walks over and wraps her arms around me, her grip tight. “They wouldn’t let me go in,” she says into my hair. When she pulls back, she cups my cheeks, inspecting me with wide eyes.

“I’m fine,Mom,” I tease, extracting myself from her hold.

Elena snorts. “Yeah, right. More like Nonna.”

Cash disappears down the halls, coming back a few minutes later with a wet washcloth and a first aid kit as well as an administrative-looking woman in a navy pantsuit. He guides me to a bench against the wall and stuffs the kit into Elena’s hands.

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