“It had to be Gomez. He must’ve learned you weren’t dead and called in the gangster to clean up loose ends, namely, you.”
“Where are you taking him?”
“Little Tony? He’s going into federal custody. The FBI was a little too slow issuing warrants so we gave them a hand.”
“And my husband?” My heart pounds. If one of those douchebags went for me, the other surely went after him.
“Sorry ma’am. Not sure.” Wheels cups a hand to his ear, then takes off his headset and adjusts a knob until his eyes go bright and he smiles. “Here we go. Seems like Suds found the district attorney and they’re having a little chit chat.”
“He confessed?” I can’t imagine him doing so.
“Singing like a bird. He claims Buonanno was blackmailing him.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, your husband doesn’t believe it either.”
“Wait, are they taking him in for questioning, too?”
“Probably, why?”
I tap on the blond driver’s shoulder. “Get us to the precinct or we’ll miss it.”
“Ma’am?”
“Suds is going to break his world record.”
