“You’re not your father and…well…hormones.” An adorable blush comes to her cheeks that makes me want to fuck her all over again.
“Lust made you do it.”
She throws her pillow at me. “What’s your excuse?”
“Lust.” I waggle my brows.
“Yes, well, I’m not one to pass on the sins of the father, either. I can separate you from him.”
“What about your boss? Does he agree with your assessment? Is that why he gave you the case? Thought you’d work harder. Maybe bend a few rules to put the Vitales in prison as revenge?”
“I can’t speak for my boss.”
“Well, let me help you out. We don’t kill cops.”
She purses her lips. “People in your world eliminate anyone who gets in the way and cops definitely get in the way.”
“You’re not dead,” I point out, but then regret the flash of fear I see. “Look, my father was a ruthless bastard by any standard, butdead cops bring heat that no one wants." Now I have to shut up, so I don’t incriminate myself.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Fine. I’ll look into it. I have resources, connections. If someone in my family was involved, I'll find out."
"Why would you do that?"
Good question. Why would I risk uncovering something that could potentially implicate my own family? I’m sure my father didn’t kill hers.
My father tended to buy off or extort cops. Not that he didn’t kill because he did.
His own brother included.
But I can’t deny there could be someone else in the family who killed Detective Ricci.
Or maybe someone in La Corona.
“Because I know it wasn’t us and you deserve the truth.”
She stares at me, and I get the sense that she wants to believe me, but doesn’t quite. It bothers me even as I understand her doubt.
I decide to change the subject. "So, the FBI. Was it always the plan, or did you consider other options?"
She shifts, pulling the sheet higher. "Like I said, I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. But the Bureau has resources local police don't, reach, authority."
"Power," I add with a knowing smile.
"Justice," she corrects, but returns my smile. "Though I won't deny there's something satisfying about flashing that badge."
I laugh. "We have that in common, you know."
"What's that?"
"Enjoying the weight our names carry. When you say 'FBI,' doors open. When I say 'Vitale,' the same thing happens."
Her eyebrow arches. "Not exactly the same thing."
"Isn't it? Authority is authority, Olivia. The difference is just who grants it."
"And who granted yours? Your father?"
