Page 105 of Immoral

"I was offered one but told them I didn't have an attorney and they needed to find me one."

I cringe at the thought but also feel some relief that he got offered a call. "How long was it before they let you call someone?"

He shrugs. "Few minutes after booking."

Shit, shit, shit. They're going to keep me in here forever.

Where is Killian?

Maybe they let him go. He'll get my attorney to get me out of here.

"What did they pick you up for?" I ask the man.

He shifts on his feet. His lips curve slightly as his face hardens. It's a look I know too well. This is a man who'll dance with the devil and not think twice. He drills his gaze into mine. "Nothing."

I nod. "Of course not." I step closer. "Now, why don't you tell me what they are keeping you here on?"

He glances around. The homeless guy is sleeping, and the junkie is staring at the corner, singing. He steps closer and lowers his voice. "Murder."

I don't blink. "Yeah? How many men?"

"How do you know it's more than one?" he asks.

"Isn't it?"

His grin widens. "They're trying to pin two on me. But they have the wrong guy."

Sure they do.

I study him for ten seconds then hold out my hand. "Gianni Marino."

He arches his eyebrows. "As in the Marino crime family?"

I stiffen. "What if it is?"

He takes my hand and grasps it firmly, shaking it. "Then I'd say you're a man I'd want to know."

"Yeah? Why is that?" I ask.

His eyes darken, and I have no doubt he killed those two men. One thing I can quickly pick up on is a man who doesn't think twice about killing another. He shifts on his feet. "A man like you doesn't let anyone push him around."

I grunt. That's normally the truth. Except these bastards have me in a cell, and I can't do anything about it right now. I reply, "You didn't give me your name."

"Garrett Steelworth."

"Steelworth. What's your nationality?"

He shrugs. "Not sure. I'm a mutt."

I stifle a laugh, assessing him further. "Which culture do you resonate the—"

"I want my phone call," Killian's voice interjects.

I spin, glancing past the bars. His face is bright red with anger, and I've never been so happy to see my brother-in-law. But it's short-lived when I realize he's in here still and hasn't gotten his call, either.

"Shut up and get in the cell," the officer orders and opens the door. He uncuffs Killian and slams the metal shut. It echoes throughout the chamber, and I refrain from holding my hands over my ears.

Killian spouts, "Bastards wouldn't let me have my phone call. Did you get yours?"

---