“You did real good. Guess they taught you something right, huh?” Vince talks to me, and I struggle to respond. I don't want to talk about being a cop with him. Not now, not ever.
I give him a tight smile in return and say, “Thanks.”
“We saved your ass, remember that,” he says before turning away from me. He yells out to the men who are picking up the bodies and lifting them into the back of their cars.
“I don't want to leave you,” Tommy whispers into my ear.
“Go, baby, please.” The danger is gone and the cops will be here soon. He needs to go. Him being here will only complicate things. It'll give the department leverage to use against the Valettis, and more ties to the Petrov case. The reminder of the case has me wanting to know if Petrov is truly dead. My eyes fly to Tommy's. I should ask him. I still don't know. The words are there, but I don't say them. The power they held before has waned. Before I can ask, I hear the sirens in the distance. “Go,” I tell him, staring in his eyes, begging him to listen to me.
“I'll be watching and waiting, baby. I'll be right here for you.” He kisses me again as Vince's car pulls up in front of us.
“Move your ass, Tommy! We gotta go!” he calls out, and I hear a door open.
“I love you, Tommy.” I have to tell him. I can't hold it in anymore.
Before he leaves, he gives me a small smile and brushes the hair out of my face as he says, “I love you, too.”
Tonya
“You sure you didn’t see anyone?” Jerry asks me, for the fourth time. He’s nodding his head and trying to get me to talk. He should know I’m not going to say shit. I haven’t for the last three hours. They found the blood at the scene. They ran tests and came back with nothing. All I told them was that I was taken against my will by men with Russian accents who wanted information.
I shake my head with downcast eyes. I hate lying and putting them in this position, but I’m not going to give them anything to lead them to the Valettis. I told them I was blindfolded the entire time. I hate lying, but I need to stick with the story.
The Russian mob is in deep shit, and there’s plenty of evidence on them. But nothing against Tommy or his familia.
“Not a damn thing that could tie them there?” Jerry asks. He has a hunch it was the Valettis who came in and took the Russians out. All three of us know it was them. It makes sense. A Russian mob on their turf? It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
“You’re fucking one of them, aren’t you?” Harrison sneers at me from across the table. I fucking hate the way he says it. I also hate that he’s right. He doesn’t buy that I was taken in order to get information on the Valettis. That’s the story I’m supposed to give the cops. That the Russians wanted intel on their routines and addresses. Everything and anything I knew about them. But it doesn't make sense that I would be left unharmed. Not unless the Valettis needed me alive. Or if I meant something to one of them.
Harrison can see right through that. I’m not a good liar. Jerry can as well, but he hasn’t said anything. I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
“Get out, Harrison.” Jerry doesn’t yell, doesn’t even turn to look at him.
Harrison clenches his fists and mutters an apology before stalking out of the room. There’s no love lost between us. As the door closes, Jerry leans forward and asks in a low soothing voice, “Are you sure you’re alright?” Concern is written all over his face.
“I’ll be alright.” I cross my arms over my chest and take a deep breath. I’m still a little shaken up. A lot shaken up maybe, but Tommy’s there waiting for me. I close my eyes and I can feel his lips kissing my neck and his arms holding me close to him. He’s my happy place. I need him, and now I have him. I'm not letting him go. I can't. He better know that.
“If you’re in any trouble, you know to come to me. Don’t you?” he asks, and I know he means it.
I nod my head. There may be times I don’t agree with him, but I know he’d help me if he could. Right now I don’t need help though. At least not from him.
“Are you sure you wanna go through with this?” He puts his hand on the table, offering it to me in a sweet gesture of comfort.
I accept and put my hand in his, and he squeezes. “I dug into you a bit after you left the conference room and found out about your sister. You may have joined for the wrong reasons, but you're a good cop. It's not too late to stay.” He emphasizes the last line. If only he knew. It’s too late for so many things.
“My mind's made up.” I pull my hand away and breathe in deep.