Page 52 of The Piece You Stole

Neither cop says a word as they return to the other side of the table. As Detective Bradley sinks into his seat and straightens his folder, Detective Ferdinand stands beside the desk since his chair is currently occupied by the southern mystery man beside me.

“We weren’t aware Miss Leo had you on retainer, Eli,” Detective Ferdinand says with an empty smile.

The expensive, cologne-wearing mystery man—Eli—laughs. “I’m a popular man, Ferdinand, a popular man.”

“We heard you were busy defending Caelum Mendicini.” Detective Bradley lifts his middle finger to scratch his nose, giving Eli a one-finger salute. I dart a glance to my right to see how Eli is taking his rudeness. Eli doesn’t seem to notice it. “Haven’t the Mendicinis been keeping you busy enough with the bodies that keep washing up around the docks?”

My eyes widen at this unexpected revelation.

Okay, so Eli is no cop. He’s an attorney.

For a crime family.

And now he’smine?

Maybe the cops took me to a cell, and I fell asleep?

I pinch my thigh, but nothing happens. I’m still in an interview room sitting beside an attorney who defends mafia types, staring down the possibility of going to jail for the rest of my life.

I have no idea what is going on here, but it’s like the cops—and this mafia attorney?—have forgotten I even exist.

That’s not a bad thing. Just…strange. Surreal.

“Bodies, Bradley? If you’re finding bodies, it can’t be my law-abiding clients leaving them there.” Eli shrugs with a lazy smile. “And I have enough brain power to do more than one thing at a time. I know it impresses you cops but do try to hold back on your praise.”

Detective Ferdinand scoffs. “Law-abidingclients?”

“Law-abiding,” Eli repeats firmly. He pauses for a beat. “Unless you have evidence to prove otherwise?”

The room faintly crackles with tension.

I spend a bit more time examining this attorney. He might have a soft, southern twang, but this guy is no gentleman. He’s a shark.

So how the hell did he suddenly become my attorney?

It’s a question that doesn’t take me long to answer. I only know one man who could afford a mafia attorney.

Rylan.

If this attorney is good enough to get me out of here, I can’t go with him. Not when Rylan would have ordered him to deliver me right back to him.

Eli clears his throat. “Now, perhaps we can get this…misunderstanding cleared up so my client can return home to bed and get the beauty rest you’ve so cruelly deprived her of.”

Detective Bradley is the first to lose his false smile. “Your client is the prime suspect in three murders. She’s not going anywhere but a cell.”

“Now that is something.” Turning to me, Eli whistles low. “Three?”

I stare back at him, not sure what—if anything—he’s expecting me to say.

My lips part.

He returns his lazy focus to the cops. “How about we untangle these loose threads one at a time? Easier for you cops not to get confused along the way. You can’t possibly be referring to the murder of Gideon Leo, can you?”

Dad. I’d almost forgotten his first name.

The sharpness of my pain surprises me, and I can’t help but wonder what else I’ve forgotten.

Bradley leans toward Eli. “Witnesses spotted them arguing. She had—”

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