He loves me.
I want to believe that he’s only doing this because he loves me, because he doesn’t want to lose me.
But I can’t even believe that anymore.
“Do you think… things could get better?” I ask quietly. “If I’m better. If I’mgood.”
“We’ll see,” Adam says. He slams the door shut.
My breaths come in quick, short gasps. Tears blur my vision. I lean forward over the neck of the cello case and try my best to hold back the sobs.
He’ll only get angry if he knows I’m crying.
He’ll tell me to shut up.
He’ll give me something to cry about, like I’m an errant child.
Maybe I am.
Adam gets into the driver’s side of the car.
It takes me a few seconds to find my voice again.
“Did… Did it go well?” I ask, swallowing hard around the need to let the tears flow. “The raid? Did you get what you needed?”
“Oh yeah. A whole gambling den. Got like fifteen players, and some of the underlings.” Adam buckles up and turns the car on. “We found a safe, too. The safecrackers are coming in soon to open it up. It’ll be a fucking gold mine.”
I don’t want it to be a gold mine, for them to use against Ilya. I hope they don’t find anything at all inside of it, but I’m not holding my breath.
Ilya had to hide the records somewhere.
I wonder how cutthroat running a gambling den actually is, or if they’re only bad because gambling is illegal. Is he really such a bad person? Is it really such a bad thing?
“Oh,” I say. “I’m glad you found something.”
I’m not.
It’s such a lie.
Adam starts driving, humming to himself. At one point he talks to another officer on the walkie talkie.
“You were a big help, babe,” Adam says. “Getting hired at that restaurant. We were able to get the warrant thanks to you. And what a fucking idiot, to have his gambling house right next to his semi legit business.”
I stare down at my still-cuffed hands. “Yeah,” I say. “Really stupid.”
I didn’t think telling Adam would actually help him find anything.
As we drive, I realize we aren’t heading to Adam’s house. My heart sinks when we turn on a familiar street and pull into the local precinct’s parking lot.
Adam turns around in his seat. “This is just a formality,” he says, still chipper. “I’ll take you in, pretend to question you, thenlet you out again.” He glances at the cello. “If you’re cooperative, we don’t need to keep the cello.”
“I’ll cooperate,” I say because I know that’s what I’m expected to say. Just like I’m expected to tell him everything else I’ve figured out. “But I really don’t know much, Adam. He didn’t spill his secrets or anything.”
At least, nothing that they can use.
Anything I could tell him would only result in betraying Ilya even more.
He’dtrustedme.
