Could she have struck again?
Oliver was the one from Bentley.
“You sure Tommy can handle that one?”
“Yes, and I know you do too, what the hell has gotten into you lately?” she asked me.
“We can’t talk here,” I told her. “Meet me at Pesci’s.”
She nodded. “Okay. Be there in ten.”
I walked out of the office and down to the elevator that would take me to the ground level where I could cross the street and into the best damn sandwich place this city has. I walked through the doors and heard a roar of approval from the owner, Dan.
“The usual, Danny,” I said. “Sal’s heading over too, so throw one together for her.”
“It’s been an age since I saw you, my friend,” he said, his thick Italian accent heavy in the air. “What keeps you so busy you can’t come and feast?”
“The city has its fair share of crime, Danny boy,” I said. “I’ve been drooling for one of your cheesesteaks for a few weeks now.”
“Nothing should come in the way of a man and his food,” he said, grabbing the tongs. “You remember that, uh?”
I agreed and took my seat at the table closest to the corner. It had a nice view of the precinct doors so I could tell when one of us would grace the shop with our presence. Sal was a good friend. I could trust her, and I knew it. She’d done her fair share of protecting me for a long time. I had to tell her about what happened with Maurelle and the way I was feeling.
Then, I was going to need a very strong drink.
Maurelle
I watched eagerly, waiting for him to show up at the crime scene, but only his partner showed his face. Eager little twerp was taking charge. I wanted Kane to see what I’d done. It was because of him that I’d chosen the man to kill.
No one came after my little girl.
I was torn. I didn’t quite know if I wanted to see him because I wanted to show him he couldn’t fuck with me and my family, or if I wanted to see him purely becauseI wanted to see him.
Goddamn him.
I’d never felt this way about anyone, much less a cop. He could ruin everything for me. I knew he was dedicated to his job, and torn up about what we’d done, not that I’d given him much of a choice.
Sweet memories of what I did to him in that hotel room flooded my mind, and I relished every delicious moment of it. I loved the way he tasted, the way his cock fit perfectly inside of me, stretching me with his girth. The way his skin felt as I sliced my nails down, blood pooling in their place. He barely howled in pain, a little hiss told me he liked it just as much as I liked to see him bleed from what I had done.
In a perfect world, we’d be good together. He would be the Clyde to my Bonnie, but he was on the other side.
What if it had been him to save me from my childhood? For him to be the one I married and got away from that life.
Maybe things would be different.
Hell, I knew they would be. I found myself wanting to be different for him, for Camille. Aside from her, I felt things for him, and I hadn’t for anyone else in my life.
Goddamn him.
He wasn’t coming.
I couldn’t help but feel angry at that, and wanted to inflict hurt on him. Where was he? What was more important than what I’d left for him?
The radio chimed in with a news report of a death of wealthy Claude Delaponte.
My mind raced for Camille. Her adoptive father was a bastard, and if given the chance, I would have taken him out but she’d begged me not to.
Now he was dead. Murdered…and I wanted to know who the fuck had the good fortune to get that death on their plate.
