Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TRISTAN

T hey process me, then take me to an interview room. At some point, I feel myself coldly disconnecting from it all, as though it’s combat. I can do nothing as they take my prints and take my belongings. I think about Maya and Loki standing in the window, the little dog in her arms, curled up. Am I making this up? Hell, it doesn’t matter.

Her heat still grips me. Maybe that’s what tries to explode when Tank finally makes his appearance. He’s got another officer at his side, a tall, lean woman with a dark ponytail and dark, searching eyes.

She sits. Tank takes a moment and then sits beside her, which tells me a lot. He’s hunkered himself down, giving nothing away, but she’s clearly in charge. They don’t turn on any recording devices.

“I’m Officer Ramirez,” the officer says, “and you know officer Thomas Lake, presumably.”

“We served together,” I say.

“You often visit the gym together. Isn’t that true?”

I smile at her, trying to figure her out. “Is there a reason you aren’t recording this, ma’am?”

She flinches. “Detective is fine.”

I smirk and shrug. “Detective.”

Tank flashes me an urgent look like he’s willing me to play along, but fuck that.

“A solid reason,” I go on when they don’t reply, “is that you’re not working for the police, ma’am. A solid reason is that you’re a Trentini lapdog.”

She rolls her eyes. “You think you’re a very clever man, don’t you? Do you realize how long you’re looking at here?”

“Ten years with exceptional behavior.”

She sucks in. “Could be as long as twenty, Tristan.”

“Yeah, the law’s a bitch,” I grunt, “but you’re presuming a lot.”

She rolls her eyes again. I wish they’d sent a man. It’d be so much easier to dream about kicking his teeth in. “Are we going to pretend we don’t have your vehicle visiting Rafeal Trentini, picking up a package, then visiting your little fuck buddy on the way home?”

I clench my fists. The bitch … She notices. I see her notice. She smirks. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just wondering when you’re going to get to the point.”

“Do you have a plausible story for the cocaine?”

“I don’t know about any cocaine,” I snap. “I went to visit Raffie because he was having a hard time. We talked it out. Then he said he needed to make a phone call. He was gone about fifteen minutes.”

She nods. “Very thorough. So he planted it, did he?”

“I have no idea what he did or didn’t do. I’m giving you the facts.”

“So you’re willing to pin this on Rafeal Trentini.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She scoffs, then looks at Tank. I wonder if this is their version of good cop, bad cop. Tank leans forward, lowering his voice. “Listen, T?—”

“Fuck you,” I grunt.

He swallows, then goes on. “Just listen to what she has to say, all right? It’s reasonable.”

“My best buddy. One of the only people who survived that hell with me.”

Tank hardens his expression or tries to. “You need to be reasonable.”

“You’re working for the Mob, Tank.”

He tilts his head at me. “Really? You’re going to tell me that.”

“Every jarhead worth a damn would spit on you if he got the chance.”

That seriously wounds the fucker. He looks like a lost little kid, then says, “I tried to warn you not to get close to her. How did you think they would react? The Marine who’s ice-cold … People talk about you.”

I don’t answer. I know he’s right, but there’s nothing to say. A jarhead doesn’t stab his brother in the back. It’s as simple as that.

“So now you’re going to tell me I have to work with Carlo,” I say with a tired sigh. “This was never about busting the Mob. I hope they’re paying you well.”

“Carlo and our friends have a simple problem,” Ramirez says. “Similar to your problem. Things need to be stored; things need to be moved. Just play the game, and this little problem won’t have to ruin you, that pretty sanctuary of yours, or that sweet romance you’re starting …”

I stare at the bitch, hating the fact she’s bringing Maya into this, hating myself more for doing the same. I should’ve kept her as a vision in a window.

“So if I don’t move coke for the Trentinis, you’re going to what burn my home down. You’re going to hurt Maya.”

“Did we say that?” Tank snaps.

I laugh gruffly. “Look at her, bro . Did she flinch when I said that? Maybe you think you’re crossing a couple of lines here and there to get ahead. Maybe you’re telling yourself the world’s so corrupt, you haven’t got a choice, but it’s bullshit. She’s going to kill an innocent woman and burn a dog sanctuary. That’s the team you chose. At least be fucking honest about it.”

Ramirez smiles with sick satisfaction when my temper slips. “It seems we have an understanding, then?”

I grind my teeth, sitting back, wishing I could tell them to go fuck themselves. But the Trentini spider web is too intricately woven into the legitimate world. There’s only one language people like this understand.

“Yeah, I get it,” I tell her. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

She smirks again, then stands up. “Tell your little story to the other detectives. I’ll arrange it so the case becomes weak, so to speak, and our friend Carlo will visit as planned. All sound good?”

I expect Tank to follow her, but he lingers, hands behind his back. “T, man, I just have to do the right thing.”

“So do I,” I growl.

He gives me a long look as though he’s going to ask what I’m talking about, but he should know exactly what this has to come to. He might’ve forgotten who he is, but I haven’t forgotten who the hell I am.