Page 80 of Tormented Diamonds
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I give a half-hearted swipe at the mascara under my eyes and walk out of the bathroom into a quiet hallway. I don’t know where I’m going, but most all police stations follow the same floor plan, so I go with my gut and take a left down an even narrower hallway.
Okay, maybe not.
I’m about to turn around when I see a thin sliver of glass at the end of the hallway.Thank God.Foregoing the light footsteps, I sprint toward the door, the combined silence and solitude settling like a rock in my stomach.
“If this sets off some kind of alarm, I’m shoving that phone up your ass.” Blowing out a shaky breath, I turn the knob and throw all my weight against the door. Unfortunately, I overestimated Montclair police’s idea of security, and it gives way with a simple click, sending me tumbling over the threshold into a hard chest. “Jesus, Taz. Are you trying to get me shot?”
“The first shot punishes the sinner,” a heavily accented voice answers, “but it’s the second that pays the sin.”
I freeze, too shocked to move, too shocked to run, too shocked to do anything but look up with icy detachment into the face of my reckoning.
Red hair. Littleeyes. Big teeth.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, Rebecca.” Grabbing my shoulders, he slams me against the brick wall. I feel the crushing impact of my skull bouncing off the bricks, and then everything turns red.
Chapter Twenty-Three
GIANNI
Iwalk into my office at the club to find Anton sitting in the only non-folding metal chair at the card table, his face redder than the tacky decor.
“You fucking lit up the Chop House?” he snaps.
I close the door and stare at him until he stands. “You said the other day it was drawing too many eyes.” Crossing the room, I drop into my seat. “That it was time to move locations and let Paulie pocket the insurance money.”
“Yeah, but…”
“It served its purpose, Anton.” I gesture to the chair across from me. He fists his hands, eventually dropping into it with a reluctant huff. “Besides, we’ve gotten too sloppy lately. There was enough stained concrete lining that place to put us away for a couple of lifetimes.”
He drags his half-empty drink across the table. “I take it Liam Callahan was in there.”
I shrug. “Parts of him.”
The glass stops halfway to his mouth. “Tell me you didn’t drop an ace.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
He tips his head back and groans. “Gianni…”
“Calm down. I dropped it in the line of fire.” I know what’s coming, so I lift my hand before he opens his mouth. “It went up in flames before it landed. You want to tell me what’s got you so wound up?”
His eyebrows lift. “Have you not checked your phone?”
“No. I was fucking my wife.”
“Okay, first, that’s too much information,” he says, hastily. “Second, you might want to look at your texts.”
And by the sound of his voice, I also might want a drink.
Claiming his, I drag it back across the table and down a good third before pulling my phone from my pocket and scrolling through my new messages.
When I hit Owen’s, I stiffen.
There are no words, just a single link that’s eerily familiar to the one that ignited this whole shit show. My molars clamp together as I click on it, then stare as the scanned image of a birth certificate flashes onto the screen.
“I’ll be damned.”
It’s more pathetic than shocking. I want to be furious, but it’s all too poetic. This whole fucking plot twist caps off what’s turned out to be two decades of “Daddy-issue” fallout.
