Page 30 of Lethal Lover

If it’s Liam, I’m not sure how to fight that. I’ve seen enough crime shows to know people like him usually know people on the police force. The last thing I want to do is anger him. But if it’s not him, this game I’m playing by pushing him away is going topiss him off, anyway, and if he really is a crime boss like Warren says, that’s not something I want to do.

“Want to go out for lunch before we go to the theater?” I ask Trixie, who is already up and getting her clothes.

“You know I don’t say no to food.”

It’s just what I need. A distraction to keep my mind off things. I really hope Liam doesn’t show up tonight.

19

LIAM

The detective sits across from me in the interrogation room, and all I can do is smirk and wait until enough time passes that they unlock the door and let me walk free. Yes, my face got plastered all over the news, and no, my father will not like it one bit. Sadly for Smitty, there’s going to be a price to pay. I know he didn’t do this—rat on me just to get out of a vehicular manslaughter charge. No, this came from someone else, and I have a feeling I know who did it.

“Well, our witness places you at the scene, Mr. Salvatore.” Kraus plays a goodbad cop. If I didn’t know he was on my payroll, I’d believe he really means what he’s saying. But the cash that’s flowing from my accounts to his virtually guarantee this gets wrapped up quickly and brushed under the rug.

They really have this thing down, too. The room is extra warm to make me sweat and get thirsty. They’ve refused to give me water to drink, and I see the sweat beading on Kraus’s fat forehead too. Maybe his typical MO is backfiring on him because he knows I won’t talk and I’ll walk out of here anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. It wasn’t my money.” In fact, there is no money trail. It’s why I do all business transactions in cash only, untraceable bills, nonsequential serial numbers. Nothing can ever come back to me. As it stands, the second they aired my face on the news, my father was alerted. He's probably got a hit out for Smitty, who’s in county lockup by now.

“Our eyewitness saw you paying the driver of that truck and the driver of the cab, who, by the way, is in lockup after being treated by a veterinarian.” Detective Kraus glares at me and pounds his finger into the stainless-steel table. “Tell the truth. This was you. You did this!”

His raised voice startles my lawyers, who sit on either side of me. My hands, cuffed and locked to the table by a manacle, curl and uncurl. It’s all an act for the camera. There is no hard evidence, only circumstantial correlation. Even if Kraus were being real and this were a true interrogation, they can’t hold me because a judge won’t sign off on a warrant without hard evidence.

“Mr. Salvatore, I urge you not to speak.” Mr. Reid holds his hand out in front of me and leans over the table. “Detective, if you have any real evidence, I demand you show it to us now or arrest my client. Otherwise, we are leaving.”

Kraus breathes in deeply and then out hard. He’s known since the second I walked in this place in cuffs that I was going to get cut loose. I’m guilty of everything they say, but short of Smitty giving his sworn statement to that guilt—which he’ll never do on account of my father threatening his family—they have no way to hold me.

“You should direct your client to provide the details he knows about this investigation before we find them. We’ll cut him adeal if he talks now.” Boy, Kraus really is good. I am amazed that he can act so well. Maybe I’ll hire him for the theater someday.

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” Mr. Bryant stands along with Mr. Reid, and I join them after they unlock my cuffs, buttoning my suit coat and smirking.

“It’s been nice talking to you, Detective.” I wink at him and follow my attorneys out of the interrogation room. The two of them walk shoulder to shoulder, and I trail in their wake.

Slick is obediently waiting in the lobby of the police precinct as we pass by, and he stands and falls into step with me. Heads turn as we pass people. They know who I am, which still surprises me that someone never told Elena until only within the past few days of my real identity. I figured I’d get away with it for a while, but I have a good excuse for her when she asks why I didn’t tell her.

“Your dad’s out there, man.” Slick looks straight at the back of Mr. Reid’s head as he talks. I do the same, staring at the back of Mr. Bryant’s neck. I knew my dad would be here. He’s going to lecture me again, but he doesn’t realize all of this was done before I made the promise to myself that I’d clean up my act and be more careful.

“Yeah, well, are we surprised?” I hold my hand up against the barrage of flash photography as we walk out onto the sidewalk and toward my father’s limo. He’s parked in a no-parking zone waiting for me, which means Slick is not invited, and neither are the lawyers.

Bryant turns to me and says, “Say nothing to anyone. We’ll handle it.”

I wave them off. “You were merely a formality for the cameras, boys. Go home and kiss your wives.” Breezing past them, I climb into the backseat of my father’s limo and let Slick continue walking down the street where he parked my car.

“Well, it seems you’ve handled this yourself.” Dad smokes a cigar, the window cracked an inch or so to let the smoke escape, but smoke hangs in the air, anyway.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” The limo pulls away, but the paparazzi follow with their flashing lights and shouts.

“I never said you did.” He takes a puff of his cigar and exhales the smoke rings. “But I do expect better of you.”

“Yeah, well, I expect you to be my dad for once in my life, but that’s a different story.” I stare out the tinted windows as we drive away from the precinct. The paparazzi will follow me for a few blocks, but they quickly lose interest when they realize I’m not going home. Slick will catch up eventually. “You know, I can handle things myself. I’ve taken your advice to heart.”

“You’re sloppy, and you will get caught one day.” Dad puffs on his cigar and exhales the smoke rings again.

“I know, alright?” I snap. “I didn’t invite you here.”

“Mmm, fine.” He sets his cigar in the ashtray and cracks the window some more. “As long as you’re aware of the consequences of your actions. They will catch up with you eventually.”

I rest my head against the leather-upholstered seat. “Well, when that time comes, I’ll face it then. Right now, I just need to confirm my suspicions. Smitty would never give me up. You know that.” The car bumps on a pothole, and I sway and watchthe buildings pass by out the window. My head feels heavy with exhaustion as I lean back into the plush leather seat and close my eyes for just a moment, trying to quell some of the tension knotting up my shoulders.

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