Page 77 of Cocky Jerk

After she told me she hated me, she told me she wished she’d never met me. Then she wished me death and told me to fucking burn in hell. It became clear she wasn’t going to give me a chance to explain myself anytime soon and so, here I am…miserable and watching her father be questioned.

I’ve lost count of how many times he’s spit in Dinaso’s face.

The man is a fucking savage.

“You know she’s downstairs, right?” Richie supplies, taking a sip of his coffee. I tear my eyes away from Tank and Dinaso’s pissing match to eye my partner. I had a feeling she would come here. It’s not like she had many options, the people she considers family are either here in a holding cell or on a slab in the morgue. I wonder if she realizes that.

Swallowing, I look back at the glass.

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“You could go find out for yourself.”

I shake my head. I’m the last thing she needs.

Ironic considering that’s all I want to be.

How any of this happened, I’ll never understand.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

Suddenly, Tony’s voice booms over the speaker, and Floyd appears in front of the glass.

“Pirelli, you’re up.”

“What’s he talking about?” I ask, turning to Richie. Floyd knocks on the glass and signals me for me to join the room.

“Looks like DeLuca wants you,” Richie says.

Great.

I can’t wait to see how this goes.

Sighing, I hand Richie my coffee cup and make my way to the interrogation room. Floyd opens the door and brushes past me, cursing Tank under his breath. For the guy in charge, he’s doing an awful job at instructing us. This isn’t my case. I’ve got a fucking stack of tickets I could be inputting into the system. Instead, I’m walking into the lion’s den.

Closing the door behind me, I cross my arms against my chest and look expectantly at Tony. Perhaps he can clue me in on what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.

“This son of a bitch won’t budge,” Tony grunts.

“How many times do I gotta tell you, I ain’t no fucking rat,” Tank sneers.

“You’re gonna die like a rat in a cage if you don’t start talking,” Tony volleys, pushing off his chair. Grabbing his files from the table, he tucks them under his arm and tips his chin toward me. I follow him out of the room and lean against the door.

“Get him to give up Bendetti,” he says, pointing a finger at me.

My eyes widen at the ridiculous demand. I’m the last person Tank is going to give a statement to.

“What makes you think he’s going to talk to me?”

“He requested to speak to you.”

“That’s because he wants to kill me.”

“He’s handcuffed to a chair,” Tony retorts. “Unless you sit on his lap, you’re safe. Now, go and maybe I can convince Floyd not to report you to internal affairs.”

As far as I’m concerned, I did my job. There are no grounds for me to be written up, but I don’t get a chance to question Tony because he turns and walks away from me.

Cursing him, Floyd, and the whole department, I drag my fingers roughly through my hair and push the door to the interrogation room open. Stepping inside, I kick it closed. I don’t meet Tank’s gaze right away. Instead, I stalk across the room. Balling my fists, I roll my neck and stare at our reflections in the two way glass.

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