“Is that so?” I say. He’s talking bullshit. I’d never have a career if that was the case. I’ve managed my ‘extra’ activities with infinite care. Although if I’m honest with myself, lately that hasn’t been the case. But there’s no way he’d know that. The men I’ve been stealing from are not the type who’d let these details get to the cops. There’s no way Oleg or Buford would be calling the police to get their property back – they have their own justice system for that. A fact I’ve been finding out the hard way.
“Come on, Sam, you know you can’t get away with this forever,” he decides to change tack. “Aren’t you ready to go straight? It’s not like you need the money.” He aims a look up at my house. It’s two stories of architectural perfection. I imagine he lives in a one-bedroom lockup. Or maybe a semi. What’s the average income of a cop anyhow? Whatever. I could buy his entire apartment block if I wanted.
Not that I want to.Fuck it.Why am I thinking like a dick? I drove home determined to be a better person.
I heave a sigh. “What do you want from me, Tim?” I ask.
“You know you’re putting her in danger, Sam.” His words almost knock me on my ass. I was not expecting that. But for the first time, his expression is earnest. “Let’s face it...we both care about her. Arielle,” he says, as if he needs to make it clearer. “You’re not right for her, buddy. You know it, and I know it. This house...this lifestyle...it’s all smoke and mirrors. You need to let her go. Before she gets hurt.”
There. He said it.Motherfucker.
I keep my arms folded over my chest. He stares at me for a second, and I remain impassive. Then he shakes his head and silently walks back to his car.
As I watch the vehicle make its way back to my front gate, I bite back the feeling in my throat that I can’t put words to.
He’s right. Goddamn it. I don’t want to admit it, but he’s fucking right.
