Page 130 of Her Filthy Reverse Harem Romance Collection

I shake my head. “Silence on my end so far. But she’s no liar.”

I live with the constant fear she’s going to get killed bringing me otherwise impossible information for us to find out on our own. I’m not going to let anyone throw her under the bus for her efforts. I promised I would protect her and now this. The murderous mobster already has her.

She is actually married. It happened.

I erase the rage blinding me from seeing clearly for a brief second.

“We need to know if we can trust her.”

Callahan keeps talking while I fight off a sharp, piercing ache driving into my heart. I breathe through it and let it settle into my gut as revenge. Now is not the time for me to turn into a monster. My guns, the cover of darkness, and some taps on the shoulders of a few friends with fewer morals than me are all I need to get my backup plan off the ground.

I raise my eyes and zero in on my boss. “Her INTEL is solid. She can’t predict other people’s actions, Agent Callahan. She’s not a fucking mind reader. She just passes on what she hears. The shipment of illegal arms we’re tracking is being masked by a shipment of women he plans on making look like another outfit is trafficking. So far my contacts in the field are saying it looks like she’s telling the truth. Won’t know for sure until tomorrow. What do you want to do?”

Callahan grunts, his gaze calculating.

Down either side of the table are the members of the special task force formed to take down a growing mafia family—Rossé. Murder, human trafficking, gambling, and drugs. If it is illegal and can turn a profit the elder of the family has his hand in it. And he’s grooming his daughter to take over alongside Kirill. Lucky for us she wants nothing to do with the criminal empire or the husband he’s forcing on her.

“How close are we to making a move? Talking over shit we already know seems like a dead way to spend the day when we could be prepping with SWAT.” I fight to keep patience in my tone.

Beside me, Mace clears his throat quietly, a subtle gesture that I need to take it down a notch. I’ve never been good at waiting. And I’m not about to start now.

I look at him and then back to the man at the head of the table. “Or are we waiting until Kirill kills her like he’s done to at least three of the girls he’s married? What more do you need to know before we move and get her to safety? She’s already agreed to turn state’s evidence?”

A call comes in and Callahan stands. Before he steps away, he says, “Strap in. We are going to go over every angle of this case. We have to make sure it’s airtight before we request the warrants. No one is going home until we do.” With that Callahan leaves the room.

Shit.

I watch the back of his head, my mind running on overdrive.

There’s a grunt followed by a weaselly laugh a few chairs down. Agent Crowe Walker. Fucker loves stirring up trouble and then sitting back to watch the show. “You got it bad, Priest.”

He fiddles with his papers instead of looking me in the eye. For a man who looks like he would rather work behind a desk than get his hands dirty out in the field, he should know better than to pick fights he’ll only cower from when fists get involved. His voice even sounds like a talking weasel’s.

“I’ve seen the way your eyes get stuck to the daughter’s ass, Priest. How do you plan on denying that one? Stop trying to be your name’s sake and admit you’re dicking her already.”

I slowly push up from my chair. Chest thumping isn’t in my nature, but beating the stupid out of people does make me feel better on occasion. Problem is, he’s not wrong. Several sets of eyes slowly move from me to settle on the asshole who still can’t bring himself to look me in the eye. “Stand up and say that shit to my face, Crowe.”

I sit down, done wasting energy on useless people.

I wait but the office asshole keeps his eyes glued to the papers in front of him. “That’s what I thought. Talking is fine, buddy. But you say shit, get ready to back it up. Haven’t I told you that? Someday there won’t be half a table between us when you mouth off.”

Crowe wears a thick scruff and his hair is a mess like the rest of him. From the wrinkles in his clothes and old coffee stain on his tie, it looks like he’s spent the last three days sleeping on a couch.

“Fuck off, Priest. We all know you’re screwing the bitch. Why don’t you come out and say it, pretty boy? Men like you always get what they want and never have to worry about the consequences.”

The room turns red. All I can see is his body on the floor, his blood staining the crappy blue-gray carpet under my feet.

Mace’s large hand comes down hard on my shoulder the second my chair flies back when I launch to my feet.

“Easy, bro. His ass ain’t worth the paperwork.”

Crowe finally throws me a challenging look that matches his words. “Yeah,bro. Take a seat. This isn’t some high school parking lot.” His large nostrils flare but that’s the extent of his alpha posturing. Coward. This isn’t the first time he’s stirred the pot only to cower behind a facade of professionalism. I know for a fact the man taps the prostitutes for blow jobs down in the center of town twice a month. His wife would love to know thatandthe crack houses he frequents.

There’s a reason he’s always wearing long sleeves.

Around us, everyone has found something else to look at. Except for Mace. His face glows. The twisted man loves drama.

Callahan picks the perfect time to come back in just as my phone goes off.

---