Page 35 of Sinful Sorrow

Good.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

“So someone else is sliding in and hoping not to get caught.”

“Quite successfully. They’re making money and doing well for themselves. Booth is one of his many dealers and comes with a nasty reputation for aggression. Whoever he hurt, I hope they lived. And if they lived, I hope they have common sense enough to stay away in the future.”

“He hurt a woman. A user.”

“Not surprising. Is this an official line of inquiry, Detective? Or is our discussion to stay hush-hush.”

“As in, has it been reported?” I bring my hand up and scratch the underside of my chin. “She was in the hospital, and word is out Booth was her attacker. I’m gonna assume that means formal statements have been made. I don’t know who is handling it, but I guess maybe this information will filter your way soon enough.”

“Anything you want me to do about it?”

I shrug, long before my mind has time to formulate a response. “I’m not sure what there is to do. Get him off the streets, I guess. But I know that’s easier said than done. I called because I didn’t know who he is or where he stands.”

“And now you do. If you’re friends with that person he hurt, probably keep her quiet. If she gets too noisy, he’s gonna retaliate. Especially if word gets around that formal statements are being made. In the meantime, you could probably do me a favor by calling Felix Malone.”

Immediately, my shoulders tense and my eyes shoot across to Minka. “Why?”

I don’t see him, but fuck, I know he grins. “Like I said, your family has kept me at work a long time. It’s no secret Felix has taken the helm and is steering the New York ship.”

“I would think, if you asked him yourself, he’d assure you the only ship he’s in control of is one that manages legitimate clubs and a stock portfolio over on Wall Street. Pretty sure he’ll soon benefit from the Cannon newspaper empire. All of that enables a man to make an honest living and hang up his shadier hats. Rumor has it the New York Malones are cleaning their houses.”

“Yes, well… Rumors are cute. But you know I work with provable fact. Anything less and the judge smacks me for it. That means I know Felix is still… sailing. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

“I have nothing to do with any of what’s going on in New York. Never have. Never will.”

“Didn’t say you did. Doesn’t mean you can’t make a call. Catch up with your big brother and have a chat. Maybe he knows who is running things over here. Since, according to you, it’s not him.”

“It’s not.” I grind my teeth and hate that after years of keeping my family and work separate, things are melding together. Lines are blurring. And that blur probably began earlier this year when I went home for the first time in sixteen years to watch my old man die and reconnect a few of the severed lines I took a knife to more than a decade ago. “If I happen to talk to him at some point, I’ll ask. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Sounds like we have a mutual understanding, Detective. As always, it’s been surreal.”

I scoff, shaking my head. Because he isn’t wrong. Surreal is the gentlest word I can apply to a mafia king’s kid chatting it up with a narcotics inspector.

“Keep your friend safe, Malone. I doubt she was supposed to survive her situation with Booth. He doesn’t typically do half a job.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Inspector. I’ll be in touch.”

Ending my call, and again, dropping my hand and looking at Minka, I exhale. I was coming here to take her home. And instead, I’m only adding to my mental load. “Fuck.”

“Spell it out, Detective.” She sits back in her chair and steeples her fingers. “Don’t make us play the guessing game.”

“Nathan Booth is a dealer, and according to my contact in narcotics, he’s dangerous and mean. Gaines wonders if Felix may be the silent partner working out of Copeland.”

Stunned, Aubree’s brows pinch tight and create a deep river of lines on her forehead. “Felix is a douchebag. But he’s not the kind who’ll keep secrets. In fact,” she sneers, “my understanding of the guy is he prefers to announce his BS to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Wow, Aubs.” Minka looks at her colleague and fakes a smile. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“Oh, I intend to. He’s a self-important, overly-enthusiastic, sex-addicted fiend who thinks he’s funnier than he actually is. He considers himself irresistible to all women, and though he’s shacked up with his girlfriend, I get the distinct feeling he’d still hit on anyone with legs and a heartbeat.”

“Mostly right,” I mumble, rolling my phone in my hands and considering my next move. “He is arrogant and loud, and I’m certain he relies on sex to regulate his emotions.” Pretty sure we all do. But that’s not really a conversation I intend to have with my wife’s second in charge. Instead, I do what I know I have to do. The one task I don’t really want to complete inside this building. I unlock my screen for the third time and hit dial. “Felix is with Christabelle now. He won’t stray, not for the rest of his life.”

“You calling him?” Minka’s tone is gentle, because she knows I need it. Her eyes kind, because she knows my heart thunders out of control. “You’ll ask him?”

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