Page 50 of The Twins
“I’m allowed an afternoon off.” Chelsea folded her arms. “And it’s a safe house, not a brothel. You want me to be safe, I presume.”
“Safe house, is that what this old dude tells you.”
“I’m warning you, Vince.” A tendon flexed in Andrew’s jawline, and his nostrils flared.
“Do I look like I care?” Vince huffed and set his attention on Chelsea. “We need to talk.”
“What about?”
“Our mother.”
A fizz went through the air, the atmosphere changing again, a sharp pressure forcing down.
“What about her?” Chelsea paled, and she swallowed noisily. “What do you have to say?”
“Not here.” Vince scowled.
Chelsea tipped her chin. “These are my friends.” She paused. “Just say it.”
“Okay.” Vince folded his arm, his knuckles pressing his big biceps outward and his black t-shirt straining. “You really want to know the truth about her?”
“Of course.”
“She wasn’t supplying Ranson with Eastern European women to use as whores. She wasn’t doing any of the stuffhesaid she was.” Vince pointed at Andrew. “And I have proof. Lots of proof.”
What the hell was going on? I was struggling to keep up.
“But all of the evidence,” Chelsea said. “Her number in his book, and she was racing off in her car, going somewhere and…”
“That number was not proof that she was a goddamn human trafficker, Chelsea.” Vince’s scowl deepened. “And you were so quick to accuse her, to believe she was. That’s hateful, unforgiveable, you know that, right?”
Andrew slipped his arm around Chelsea. “You okay?”
“Okay?” She stared at him, and the color returned to her cheeks. She stiffened and then pushed at him. “How the fuck could I possibly be okay?”
“Oh shit,” Jamie muttered and crossed his arms.
“Chelsea?” Andrew held out his hands. “What have I done? Why are you mad at me?”
Finn and Cillian sat down again, giving the impression they no longer wanted to get involved.
Vince also stepped back; he’d set off a bomb and was happy to watch the explosion. A faint smile tugged his lips.
“What have you done?” Chelsea shouted at Andrew. “You had her on your kill list, and if what my brother has just said is true, my mother was innocent. You would have killed an innocent. My mother. You told me you would have. I heard you say that with my own ears.” She tapped the sides of her head.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Kill list? What the fuck was that?
“Not just innocent,” Vince said, his voice loud. “She was also a fucking cop.”
Chelsea stared at her brother with her mouth hanging open. “What?”
“She was undercover,” Vince went on, “had been on this case for nearly a year, waiting for Ranson and his sick contemporaries to put in an order for Albanian women after the real Candy Floss had died suddenly. She’d made up a story about having a new number but was good for the women and was communicating with the gangs. She was getting close, they would have been able to shut the entire organized crime group down within a month if she’d lived.”
“Our mother wasn’t a cop!” Chelsea put her hand over her mouth as though the conversation was making her nauseated. “Was she?”
“Officially she was in technology and information, covert detail, though this case was too important for her not to step out of her box and try and get the convictions. Plus, apparently she sounded just like this Candy Floss woman on the phone.”
“And Dad? He knew all of this?”
