Page 111 of Mob Bride

Carrie doesn’t answer. Even if they’d arrested her, they cannot compel her to respond.

“Carys, will you go to jail for him?”

“Mr.?” Cormac’s dismissive tone irritates Phil even further, but it distracts him from Carrie for a moment.

She shifts her gaze to me. I know she wants to know how she should answer that. But I don’t know. I look at Seamus, sitting across from me. His expression says no as loudly as if he were screaming. When I return my attention to Carrie, I think she understands because her expression goes entirely blank.

“Supervisory Agent in Charge Phil Hammond.”

“Agent Hammond, I’m advising my client to decline answering any further questions of this nature. You may limit your questions to her investigation of the Polish mob. But further inquiry into my client’s private life is inappropriate.”

“Further inquiry? She’s sleeping with a?—”

“A what, Agent Hammond?” Cormac presses, and he’s about to sink his teeth in.

“A man with known ties to organized crime.”

“Known ties?”

“Yes, your family is the New York mob.”

“Says who?”

Cormac knows none of the agents will reveal sources, and there aren’t any active or old cases against any of us linking us to organized crime. The NYPD’s arrested all of us at some point. Mostly when we were teens and still learning how to steal shite without getting caught. A few times were to distract the police from the people actually committing crimes. Nothing’s stuck.

When Phil remains quiet, Cormac leans forward. “Who, Agent Hammond?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions. We’re here to ask Ms. Pritchard and your cousins questions.”

“You’ve just made a serious accusation with no grounds. It sounds like you’re toeing the line of defamation by making such claims with no evidence.”

“No grounds? Everyone knows who you are.”

“Who are we, Agent Hammond?”

“You’re damn mob.”

“Says who?” Cormac will take them around in circles until Phil’s dizzy, and my cousin walks away the same way he does after ten shots of Irish whiskey—sober as the day he was born. Though, ask him about Halloween two years ago, and he’ll say the eleventh is a doozy.

“I won’t go around in circles with you, Mr. O’Rourke. Carys, look at what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. You abandoned your assignment. You’re sleeping with a man suspected of countless crimes. You’ve destroyed your career. But if you cooperate, we won’t charge you with any misconduct or crimes. Tell them you’ll speak to us alone.”

“I have a right to remain silent. I have a right to an attorney. I have the right to stop answering questions. I’m not under arrest, but those rights still apply. I have nothing more to say.”

“If you won’t cooperate, we’ll arrest you, Carys.”

I want to climb out of my skin. It was always going to come to this. Why they didn’t formally arrest her at my house is a question I don’t know the answer to. But we’ve bought my dad and uncles more time to pull strings. That’s been the goal.

Phil looks at Angela, who stands and pulls out her handcuffs. I watch the woman put them around Carrie’s wrists as she officially Mirandizes my girlfriend. Carrie doesn’t look anywhere but straight ahead. Cormac insists upon remaining with her, but it leaves Sean, Seamus, Dillan, and me in a room full of federal agents I want to butcher.

Phil looks at me and gloats. It doesn’t last when four sets of emerald eyes silently warn him it’s bad for his health to antagonize us.

“Agent Hammond?” A young man who looks like he should still be in middle school sticks his head in.

“Yeah.”

“Um, Sir. Director Spenser’d like to speak to you.”

Philly Boy’s day just went to shite. The four of us lean back in our chairs, leaning on our left elbows on the armrests as we spin our chairs in unison to better see Phil. Like synchronized swimmers, we rest our jaws on our left hands as though we’re bored.

---