“Mr. King.” I was greeted by Zach the balding FBI agent, who had thrown me to the ground and put cuffs on me. Instead of returning the greeting, I simply stared at him in morbid stupidity. I wasn’t stupid. Just because I gave myself up to these people didn’t mean I was going to admit to any wrongdoing. You did this for her… I had to remind myself of that every hour of the day.
It had only been five days, but I was still struggling, wondering if I would ever get out of here and if I would somehow forget how her face looked.
“One way or another you’re going to have to talk,” he reminded me, yet again. This was the fifth day of interrogations, and let me tell you, they weren’t above physical abuse—but neither was I.
“Talking would mean I had something to talk about…” I said my voice hushed before pausing so I could lean across the table. “And we both know I have nothing to talk about.”
Instead of turning away as most grown men would, he just stared back at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“You want out of here, and that’s only possible by talking.”
He was lying. They didn’t want me to go. They pined to get to me for years. I had done some really bad shit before meeting Bree. I wanted to put it behind me, but not if it left me locked up in prison for life.
“I’m not a pig, and even if I were, I wouldn’t have shit to say.” I wasn't snide and I chose my words carefully. The problem was every minute I was gone was another stab to my beating heart.
“Mack….” Zach said… The name rolling off his tongue as if he has uttered the one single word more than once. Which I knew was true. They had him—or did before Bree plunged a knife into his chest.
“What about him?” I asked voiding my face of all emotion.
“Don’t you find it slightly strange the man was found dead in your presence? You knew he was going to come to us and bring you in—but suddenly, he’s dead?” Was he baiting me?
I wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Devon had told me to lie, to plead the fifth, and no matter what, say nothing. He was taking the fault for Mack’s death, but we all knew they would do whatever they could to pin it on me. Anything to keep me in this hell hole.
“I think Mack had death coming long before he started with me.” Which was the truth. Mack was bad before he met up with me before I brought him to the group. The death of Delilah wasn’t my fault. Her family borrowed money from mine. With no form of payment, their lives were taken.
Zach scratched at his chin as if he were thinking. His dark eyes hid whatever it was he was pondering.
“Let’s cut to the chase really… See, you and I both know we have nothing on you. Though you were there with Mack when Devon killed him, we believe there may have been other motives. Mack came to us with the intentions of bringing you in, but after talking with Devon, it seems he might have rather have had you dead, instead.”
“Well, if you have no proof, you should probably release me then,” I countered, leaning back into the metal folding chair casually. There was some proof though, somewhere. I mean, after all, I had killed John. Devon took the fault for his death, as well, pulling the wool right over their eyes.
“Oh, you’ll be leaving—just under different circumstances.” The way he said it actually caused fear to bloom in my body. There would be conditions I was certain. Conditions rendering me from doing anything.
Before I had the chance to respond back, he walked to one of the doors and opened it. One the other side, I could see Devon’s smug face. How had that man made it in the FBI for so long? Better yet, how did I handle hanging around him?
“Meet your new partner, Mr. King.”
“My new partner?” What did he mean?
“Yup. You can leave this compound under the stipulations you join the gang related task force.” I pondered what he said a moment. A task force? Gang related? Was I taking my own people down?
“What am I going to be doing?”
I watched as Zach turned to smile at Devon. He was lacking the amusement Zach had and that told me I wasn’t going to enjoy this.
“We know you’ve done some really bad stuff. Even if we don’t have the proof, we have the knowledge. Better yet, you have the knowledge…” He pointed at me. “With your information and knowledge of the Mafia, we can take down others who are headed down similar paths. Many do far worse than what you’re known for doing.”
I nodded, understanding what he was saying. I knew what they were talking about. Luccio’s family, before I came into contact with them, ended up being in the business of human trafficking.