Page 149 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

“So why are you so sure that boy is Acerbi’s? If you think all of this is fucked-up, not by the book any way you look at it, then why do you still think that kid is his? Did it not cross your mind that those results could have been tampered with? And now that you believe there is a dirty cop involved?”

“Of course, I’ve thought about it. At least in the beginning, I had my doubts. That’s why I had an independent test that no one except me knew about. Gabriel is Drago’s son. That is the one fact about all of this I am sure of.”

His head cocks to the side, his eyes widening as he looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.

“You are sure, aren’t you?” His words are more realization than a question.

“I am positive. I just wish D would believe me.”

“All right, Detective.” He pushes up, standing.

“All right, what?”

“My case just took a turn,” he tells me with the most serious expression I’ve seen on him yet. “I still want Vincent Acerbi behind bars, but I’ll put that on the back burner for now—until we find that kid.”

“Why the sudden change?” I can’t help but ask.

He was adamant earlier that locating Gabe was on the police department, not him.

“Diaz is equally as ruthless as Vincent. And taking down that son of a bitch might just get me a step closer to my end goal.” He rounds the chair he was just sitting in, heading for the door. “We start tomorrow. Be ready at seven. I’ll pick you up.”

“I thought you wanted yourholiday. Wasn’t that what you were bitching about earlier on the phone?”

“Just be glad that kid of yours is more important to find right now.” He pulls the door open. “Oh-seven-hundred, be ready to roll. This stays on the down-low, you got that? You are still on leave.”

I nod, agreeing.

Without another word, he steps over the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving me speechless. Sure, I should be grateful he’s going to help me locate Diaz, but what is he really up to?

What’s the motive, I wonder?

That thought plagues me for hours and hours. I’m still at a loss as to why he now wants to help me. But those nagging thoughts soon vanish when the medication takes hold of me, and I’m in the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Regret that I didn’t have that procedure done while I was in the hospital soon becomes my reality and this isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Since Thursday morning, I’ve spent every minute of daylight with Eric. In those four days, I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s annoying as hell. Every ounce of attraction I thought I had for him has evaporated. At this point, he’s the proverbial thorn in my side.

I have also come to learn he’s a damn good agent. A clever agent.

“It’s done.” He places his smartphone on the table. “See”—that megawatt smile of his makes an appearance—“easy. Just like I told you it would be.”

Eric takes a sip of his steaming cup of coffee. He just contacted the cellular carrier of Lance’s cell phone after emailing them an approved document outlining the DEA’s request to wiretap a device.

It’s a common tactic of any federal agency that has probable cause. And since Lance is the only person I suspect of being Diaz’s inside man, Eric spun a few details in our favor and got his director to approve the request.

The DEA director, not his SAIC—Special Agent in Charge—his superior. The fucking director of the DEA. I’m impressed that Eric knows him personally and was able to pull strings so quickly. I’ve met the Chief of Police for the city of Los Angeles a handful of times. He swore me in when I became an officer and I’ve seen him from afar when he’s made multiple speeches. I got to speak to him when I had my last interview, but I couldn’t call him up on a whim.

“Not bad,” I tell him, leaning back into the quaint booth in the back of the coffee shop. It’s late in the morning, so the bustle from the early morning crowd is long gone, the regulars that use the coffee shop as an office and the college students milling about. All wearing headphones or earbuds and focused on whatever it is they are all doing on their laptops or tablets.

“I got pull, Andrews.” He snorts out a laugh, and it’s cute, making me laugh too. It’s now I realize this is the first time I’ve found joy in well over a week. A pang of guilt hits me, slapping me across the face. I shouldn’t be experiencing joy of any sort. Gabriel is missing, and my baby is gone.

I’ve clung to that hope every second of every day since I woke up in that hospital bed.

“Hey,” Eric calls, his voice turning concerned. “I was joking. What’s got you sad all of a sudden? I thought you would be thrilled we’re making headway and we’re going to nail those cocksuckers to the fucking wall.”

---