by Layla Frost
Surprising me, she nodded right away. “Okay,” she mumbled sleepily as my phone vibrated on the night stand.
Picking it up, I saw a text.
Luc: We’ve got a giant fucking problem.
My stomach dropped.
Me: What?
Luc: Too long to text.
Me: Call in two.
Carefully easing a sleeping Dahlia off me, I got into the bathroom just as Luc called.
“What happened?” I said quietly.
“Davis called.”
My dropped stomach became a bottomless pit. Davis was a detective who kept his ears open for us.
“They got an anonymous tip that led them to the senator’s house,” Luc said.
“Okay,” I said, waiting for him to continue. We’d been careful to not leave anything linking us to him.
“At a specific time. An original time.”
Fire burned through my veins. “What?”
“They had it perfectly timed, calling in so the cops would arrive at the house when everything should’ve been going down.”
We weren’t supposed to be at Larson’s house until much later in the night. Moving the plans up had stayed between Luc and I until after we were finished. My addiction to Dahlia had gotten the better of me, making me impatient.
Like everything to do with her, it seemed to have been for the best. Otherwise, Luc and I would’ve been caught red-handed.
Literally.
“A rat?” I forced out. Betrayal slammed me in the chest.
“Looks that way. Davis didn’t have long, but he said most of them believe it’s a suicide. There was something else, but I didn’t catch it before he hung up. Tell me you grabbed a bite to eat, stopped at the store, something.”
“No, I went from Gabe’s to Dahlia’s.”
“Girlfriends aren’t an alibi. At least I’m at the bar with Faust and Dale. Hold on.” I heard a click. After a pause, he came back on the line, swearing up a storm. “Davis said another call came in, but he hasn’t gotten the details yet. Whoever it is, they know the timing was off. I’ll get it worked out.”
“Give me a couple hours with Dahlia, and I’ll meet you at Amaric.”
If shit was going to hit the fan, I knew I should wake Dahlia and talk to her. Explain to her.
Tell her the truth.
I couldn’t. I didn’t have enough time to answer all the questions she’d inevitably have. Once she knew everything, there was a chance she’d want to leave, and I wouldn’t be around to convince her to stay.
My mind ran through all the possibilities as I climbed back into bed, curving my body around Dahlia’s. I pulled her tight against me, my body reacting the way it always does when she’s around. “I love you, my gattina.” She wiggled against me, and I was tempted to roll her onto her back and take her. Knowing there was a distinct possibility she’d be having some sleepless nights ahead of her, I stilled her movements. “Get some sleep.”
“You’ve gotta be kitten me right meow,” she mumbled in her sleep.
Even with everything else going on, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Although she was awake, I felt Dahlia’s body relax. It only seemed to do that when I was around. As if she instinctively knew she could release some of the stress she carried because I’d always take care of her.
She was right.
My mind should’ve been on what was to come. There was a lot that could go wrong, and I needed to plan for all of it.
Instead, my focus was on Dahlia.
And making sure I didn’t lose her.
Flattening my palm against her stomach, my already hard cock ached. I wished my baby was growing in her. And not just because it would tie her to me permanently, though that held a lot of appeal. I’d wanted a little time with just the two of us before I made that happen. It was a decision I regretted, and one I was set on rectifying as soon as possible.
So long as, when all was said and done, she even still wanted me.
Thinking of the alternative twisted my gut.
“Fuck it,” I cursed, rolling Dahlia onto her back. I covered her body with mine, my mouth taking hers in an unguarded kiss.
If it was going to be the last time I was inside her, I was going to make sure she remembered.
She’s mine.
And I’m every bit hers.
···
Early Monday morning
“We sure about this?” Will Costa, my lawyer, asked for the twentieth time. The sun was barely in the sky, but we’d been locked up in my office for hours.
I paced the room, running through everything in my head again. I could risk it, but it could end up being so much worse. “What’s the maximum time I could face?”
“Four years. Which, hypothetically, is probably a lot less than any possible alternatives. Like, say, if someone staged a government official’s suicide and got life in with no chance of parole.” He looked up from the papers he had spread across the table. “Hypothetically. I’d also like to point out that, as far as they’ll know, it was in defense of someone and you’re a first-time offender. Plus, you’re a pillar of the community. Not to mention, you’re willing to turn yourself over, and I’m a damn fine fucking lawyer.” He smiled cockily, which had always helped him get his way. “Been running the streets with you since we were in diapers. Now we wear suits while we do it. Doesn’t change the fact I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
He was right.
Davis had been in touch again shortly before Will had arrived. Any possible murder was far down on the department’s list of concerns. The paper trail Luc had left implicated other high level public officials in some mildly shady dealings. He’d kept the good stuff in our files in case we needed to make use of it in the future. Still, enough had gotten out that there was a general sense of relief about Larson’s death.
This wasn’t even taking into consideration that he’d had a doped up sixteen-year-old runaway sleeping one off upstairs.
That was a curveball that could’ve really fucked over the carefully planned night.
More than it already was.
But whoever was trying to fuck me over was relentless, calling in about Larson’s penchant for gambling on fights. When it didn’t get him anywhere, he started rambling off contact information for different news outlets, local and national.
If I confessed to the other fight, locking up my alibi over an hour in the opposite direction, it would be enough to buy some time until we could figure out who the rat was.
Hopefully not four years, though.
“Do you have any other suggestions?”
Costa shook his head.
“What if I waited?” I asked.
He raised a brow. “Can you really risk waiting if it lands you on their radar?”
Fuck, he was right. It was highly unlikely I was linked at this point. However, the rat had already shown he was willing to push. If I waited, it could backfire and I’d end up under investigation for a lot more than Larson.
“Normally,” Costa said, “I’m all about the ‘deny, deny, deny’. Setting up and holding onto the alibi would be fine if you only needed help with this one situation. But if you wait and wind up on their list, you’ll have cops breathing down your neck and delving into your business. All of it. You need to get away. A vacation or business trip would just look like you’re fleeing. Confessing to the bar fight give you an alibi for last night, plus some distance from the rat. He’ll be forced to step back and strategize, which will give Luc time to find him. Or he’ll push and out himself. Either way, it’s a win.”
Except possibly losing Dahlia.
“Are you sure there are witnesses to even put you at the bar?” he asked.
“Faust looks enough like me, and was drinking in a back booth all night. There were more than enough drunks there that, when shown a picture of me and then the actual Faust, swore it was me that’d been there. Matty and Stella were working, and know to say it was me. And I have the hefty credit card bill for �
��my’ drinks.”
“Thorough. Down to the tiniest detail.” Checking the time, Costa packed up his briefcase and stood. “I’m going to go discuss the hypothetical confession of my hypothetical client with the DA. I’ll be in touch.”
I nodded, shaking his hand as he left.
Picking up a disposable phone, I fought the urge to call Dahlia. There’d been so many times when I’d open my mouth, the truth on the tip of my tongue. Secrets piled on my chest and shoulders, a burden I was used to. What I couldn’t stand was keeping them from her. I didn’t worry about her turning me in or exposing the truth.
I worried about losing her. Her leaving me if she knew who I was.
What I was.
But it was past time she knew.
If the DA offered me a good enough deal, I’d give her whatever limited time I spent away to come to terms and figure out her feelings.
After I was out, however, things would be different. No more lies. No more secrets.
And no more holding back.
Decision made, I dialed Dad’s number instead.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as the call connected.
“There’s a rat.” The word snarled from my mouth, the sound filled with the loathing I felt in my soul.
People fucking me over was nothing new.
But it coming from the inner circle? That kind of betrayal?
That was personal.
“And shit is fucked up,” I finished.
“Did you call Costa?” he asked.
“Yeah, he’s on his way to meet with the DA now.”
“Cazzo. I’ll find that fucker myself and burn him to the ground. No, no. Betrayal like that? In the famiglia? I’ll burn down everything he loves and make him watch. Who the fuck—”
I cut into his rant, knowing it could take more time than I had. “Luc will fill you in later, but I need to go over some things you two need to handle. You ready?”
For the next half hour, I listed out everything I needed them to take care of, starting with the most important thing.
Dahlia.
Chapter Sixteen
Web We Weave
Dahlia
Monday evening
I sat, dumbstruck, as I stared numbly at the TV. Theo had turned himself in for putting a man in a coma. At least that’s what the idiot news anchors had said.
They were wrong, though. Theo had been at my place. There was no way he could’ve snuck out of bed and made it across the city to beat a man up.
“Shit!” Rachelle cursed, practically running through the room to snatch the remote out of my hand. She turned the TV off.
It was too late.
“Theo. He’s…” I dragged my eyes from the black screen to look at her. She was focused on me, eyeing me cautiously and unconcerned with her son’s picture being plastered on the news. “You knew. You knew he was turning himself in.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “And I was going to tell you. Theo thought it should come from one of us, but I got caught up talking to…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Talk to me, you look pale.”
“They said he beat a man.” It was my turn to shake my head. “He wouldn’t do that. And he was with me. I have to go tell them that.” I started for the door, rambling to myself. “They have the wrong guy. Stupid mistakes happen, I’ll get it cleared up.”
Rachelle grabbed my wrist, halting my steps. “Dahlia, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
Knowing I can clear his name, I’m surprised Rachelle isn’t throwing me on her back and running me the entire distance to the police station.
“I’m missing something,” I whispered. Tears pricked at my eyes, panic and fear dragging me under. When she didn’t answer, I yelled, “What don’t I know?”
“A lot,” she said, her sympathetic and sad smile shattering my heart. “But you have to trust me on this, Dahlia.”
My head jerked back like I’d been physically slapped, my voice low and raspy. “No. Why would I? Why would I trust someone who would spend time with me, eat with me, all while knowing,” I pointed at the TV, “that was happening?”
“Sweetheart—”
“Why did you even help me pack up, knowing I was coming to an empty house? Just so I have to unpack in my tiny apartment again?”
“You can’t.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s not your apartment anymore.”
“How?”
“Theo,” she said simply, like that explained everything.
It did, actually.
“My stuff?”
“It was moved into storage as soon as we left the building.”
Along with scared, confused, and lonely, trapped was added to the rush of emotions flowing through my body.
“I can fix this,” I whispered, heading for the door.
“Do you want to lose him for years, Dahlia? Not a couple months, but years? Maybe forever?”
The tears in my eyes spilled over, hurt saturating my voice. “Are you threatening me?”
“No!” Her face softened before she pulled me into her arms. “No, never, sweetheart. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but I need you to trust me. Trust Theo. Okay?”
My body and mind both felt numb, despite my racing thoughts. Nothing made sense, and I couldn’t seem to get my brain to cooperate. With no other option, and no way to get information, I didn’t say anything.
And then I broke down.
···
In a calm, orderly fashion, I took my place in line behind the other visitors. From infants to the elderly, all ages waited for the guard to lead us back.
The line moved quickly, so I took out my driver’s license.
A guard with a clipboard looked at me. “Meow who’re you here to see?”
Something about his question was odd, but I shook it off. “Theodore Amato.”
Another guard waved the metal detector wand over me, and it started beeping like crazy when it got to my stomach. “Lift up your shirt right meow,” he ordered.
When I did, bowls of milk were duct taped to my stomach.
“Meow you know the rules,” the first guard sighed, shaking his head. “No saucers of milk. Can’t have the prisoners going all nimbly bimbly.” He confiscated the bowls and jerked his head to the side for me to get back into line.
Detective Stabler from the show Law and Order came out from the back, holding the door open and giving us all his signature cocky smirk. “You can go in meow.”
Leaving the check-in, my excitement grew as I followed the group. It was dashed when I saw that, instead of sitting at a table with him, we had to talk through phones with plexiglass between us. I was confused when I saw so many women around.
Still, I grinned when I saw him.
“Cazzo, gattina, I miss you,” he growled as soon as I put the phone to my ear.
I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me. “I miss you, too. Why didn’t you tell them?”
“Tell them what?” he asked.
“That it was a mistake. You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I have to. I helped Alex smuggle those drugs. Things aren’t really that bad. I mean, Red’s crazy. Obviously not as crazy as Crazy Eyes, but who is?”
My eyes flew open. I looked at the guard and saw it was Pornstache. Two girls were going at it in one corner, while Red stirred a pot on a counter.
“This is all from the show, Orange Is the New Black. Theo, why are you here?”
“You love me too much to put me in The Wire?”
I shot awake, the dull glow of the TV lighting the room.
“‘Are you still watching?’” I read out loud, the Netflix screen judging me before I answered angrily. “Yeah, I’m getting the feeling I’ll be spending a lot of nights awake, watching.” I pressed play on a comedy before adding a whispered, “Alone.”
···
I smoothed my fitted and demure navy blue capped sleeve dress. Rosa had dropped i
t off to me earlier in the day, which I’d thought would be my chance to get some information. The opposite of her usual chatty self, she’d refused to answer any of my prodding questions.
What was extra weird, however, was how unworried she’d seemed about everything. She hadn’t looked shocked about her boss being arrested, nor had she seemed particularly concerned with the possibility of him going to prison and his company imploding. Since not only was Theo a lifelong friend, but also her meal ticket, I’d have thought she’d be freaking out with me.
Instead, she’d been happy as can be, if not evasive, as she’d insisted on helping me with my makeup, masking the splotchy swelling and giant bags.
Sitting in the courtroom, I moved to adjust my skirt again when Luc’s arm blocked the way.
“It’ll be fine,” Luc whispered. I wasn’t sure how I knew, because he was his usual polite and charming self, but he didn’t want me there. He watched me closely, a blend of nervous and alert. Every time I moved, his eyes snapped to me as he braced.
Ben sat on my other side, but he wasn’t as on guard. Rather, it felt like he was there for support.
Rachelle and Lou sat behind us, occasionally reaching up to give my shoulder a squeeze. Neither of them looked distraught, either.
What the hell is wrong with them? When did I get transported into Bizarro world?
Luc kept his arm in place, but I wasn’t paying attention to my skirt anymore.
My focus was on Theo as he walked into the courtroom from a side entrance. In a suit and tie, I could almost pretend he was heading to Amaric. I hadn’t seen him since the Sunday before, which had only been a few days, but he looked different.
Or maybe I was seeing him differently.
Accompanied by a sharp dressed lawyer around his age, his eyes were on me the entire time. His brows pushed together, his expression soft.
A silent plea.
An apology.
A promise.
He dragged his gaze from mine as the judge, his lawyer, and the other lawyer began speaking. Things moved quickly, and I was having trouble following along as they discussed the terms of his deal.
Why is he taking a deal? He was home with me. I can tell them.
“Trust him,” Luc whispered, clearly reading the confusion on my face.