Page 40 of Taken By Him

“So, this is what my wife is paying you good fucking money for,” I say, sliding into the stool beside him at the empty bar. The bartender looks up at me but quickly makes the right decision and heads to the other side of the room. There’re a few stragglers watching the game. But they’re either too drunk or too jaded to care what Mr. DeGrazio and I are talking about.

“Who’s your wife?” His words slur.

I shake my head. Washed up ex-cop probably.

“Kasia Garska. She’s a Staszek now, though.”

His eyes widen, fixate on me, then he looks at the door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I assure him and pat his shoulder. “I just want to know what you’ve found out so far.”

“Who are you?” he asks. Fear makes his lip tremble, or maybe it’s the liquor.

“Dominik Staszek, her husband.”

His lips puff outward when he blows out a breath.

“Fuck.”

“Well, that depends. What information do you have for me?” I ask, pushing his beer away from him.

“Look. I haven’t told her anything. I keep telling her there’s nothing. I keep telling her, but she keeps sending me money and telling me to keep looking.” He puts up both his hands.

“I’m not asking what you told her. I’m asking what you found.” I lean closer to him. “And I don’t have a lot of time, so don’t fuck with me.”

He nods quick and blinks several times. Maybe he’s trying to reset his brain.

“Okay, okay.” He blows out another breath. “The guy driving the car — according to the police report — was high as a fucking kite.”

“And?” I roll my hand in the air when he pauses.

“His brakes were cut.”

My interest piques.

“Go on.”

“The guy, he was a small-time dealer for the Kominskis. Once I found that out, I stopped looking. I didn’t tell her anything. I just let it go. But she won’t.”

“You keep cashing her checks though?” I’d also like to know where her money comes from, but I’ll find that out later. When I question my secretive wife.

“I won’t anymore,” he vows with wide open eyes. I can’t fault the man too much. It was smart to stop looking. Turning over rocks in my world can find a man bitten by something much worse than an angry mosquito. The Kominskis aren’t a family to mess around with. Sticking his nose into that hornets’ nest wouldn’t have ended well for him.

“No. You won’t. If she contacts you again, you call me.” I pull out a business card and shove it into the chest pocket of his Members Only jacket.

“I got it,” he says with a hard nod. “You really married her?”

“Yes, Mr. DeGrazio. I did.” I slap his back and head toward the door. I have more questions for him, but I need him sober. I’ll call on him again when he’s clear headed.

But first, I have an interrogation to get to.

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