Page 60 of Mafia King's Forbidden Vows

“Capo, what’s going on?” Cortez asks, his tone cautious, as if he’s walked into the middle of something volatile.

Elio leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Nothing, Cortez. Just thinking about how much Henshaw’s death has ruined things for us. He’s the only man we’d have conveniently framed with Frank’s death, and now, there’s this…” Elio sweeps the document across the table to him with a wave of his hand. Cortez’s eyes run through it, then dart towards Elio with his lashes fluttering furiously.

“Capo, come hai ottenuto questo(Boss, How did you get this)?”

Elio jerks his chin towards me, and Cortez follows his signal, locking his eyes with mine.

“If they’ve found a DNA match on this button, then it’s over,” Cortez whispers.

The document I brought in contains a single button from the culprit and most likely has his DNA on it. And if that DNA matches whatever DNA sample they already have, then they’re already onto Frank Paterson’s killer.

Still, I don’t know why Elio and Cortez are fretting about it. They even attempted to frame that Henshaw guy, whoever he was. Or did they kill Frank Paterson, too? Is that why they’re all riled up?

Shivers run down my spine as the realization hits me.

“Just look into Henshaw. Get me the CCTV footage…anything.” Elio’s voice cuts through the heavy silence in the air.

Cortez nods, turns away without another word and walks out of the room, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.

The silence that follows is suffocating. I shift in my seat, searching Elio’s face, trying to make sense of everything. “Why are you so involved in this case?” I ask finally, unable to keep the question bottled up any longer.

His laugh is low and humorless. “Because the NYPD made it my problem.” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot on the floor. “They needed someone who could work outside the system, someone with the kind of connections they can’t admit to needing.”

“And what does that have to do with framing Henshaw?” I press, my voice softer now. “What was that about?”

This time, he raises his eyes to mine, his gaze dark and unflinching. “Because they framed my family first, Aria. They wanted someone to blame for Paterson’s murder, and they didn’t care who it was. Framing Henshaw was supposed to take them off my tail and buy me time to find out the truth.”

I stare at him, my mind spinning and pounding. The anger in his voice is sharp, but beneath it, there’s a rawness that oddly makes my stomach flip.

“This means that without Henshaw in the picture, they can now blame you again. You’ll remain the prime suspect…” A new realization suddenly hit me as I spoke. I could actually add this to a list of the incriminating evidence I’m gathering on Elio, that apart from being just a murderous bastard, he also sets people up to take the fall for his hideous crimes.

I’ll do everything I can to get myself involved in this case so I can find out more.

“Okay,” I say finally, releasing a sharp breath from my mouth and leaning forward. “Then let me help. I’ll look into Henshaw’s death. I have a friend who can help me.”

His eyes hold my gaze for a moment as if searching through mine. His brows are drawn together as if he wants to argue, but then he nods, a hint of relief softening the hard lines in his face. “Are you sure?”

My lips draw apart in a faint smile. “Yes. We have a deal, remember?”

***

My hands fumble with the buttons on my shirt for the umpteenth time as I rehearse what I’m going to say to Paul Hamper, the Assistant District Attorney.

I need either him or the DA to give me permission to help Samantha in the DA’s office on the topmost floor.

My fingers clamp around the doorknob, then turn it open.

He’s seated there behind his large desk, sipping a cup of coffee, with hundreds of files scattered on his desk.

“Good day, ADA Hamper.”

He doesn’t even raise his head to look at me. “Well, speak. What is it?” he snaps, shuffling through the files on his desk.

“Um...I was just wondering if I could help Samantha with the court records in the DA’s office,” I swallow hard, waiting for his response. When there is none, I continue, “I would really love to be of help, Sir…”

“To be of help, you say,” his face contorts into a smirk as he taps his pen on a file in front of him. “Listen here, young lady. You’re here to watch professionals do their job and fetch coffee. Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, and for the love of God, don’t get your inexperienced hands on any of those sensitive records...”

“But…”

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