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He swallows as he watches me like a bunny staring at a wolf. "I'm sure the IRS would be very interested in how you can afford all this," I let my hand wave through his room, indicating his house, "on a state attorney's salary."

"I'm compensated well," he tries.

"Enough to pay for your wife's shopping trips to Gucci? Or for the Mercedes she likes to drive?"

"I'll destroy you, DeLuna, if you touch my wife."

I laugh. "Trust me, I wouldn't touch anything that has been whoring herself out to any cop in the city."

Kevin jumps off his chair, his glare furious. For a moment, I think he might even come at me, but he hesitates for a secondtoo long. He smooths his hair back with what’s left of his hand—two fingers short, courtesy of Enrico. The memory of that encounter and my glare brings him to his senses. He sinks back into his chair.

Whatever ideals, morals, or ambitions drove him to become a state attorney have long since left him. He isn't the idealist he once was, and he knows it. That went out the window the moment he took mydirtymoney to pay for his daughter's surgery. Am I a monster to take advantage of a man's misfortune? Probably. But doing so ensures I will never be in this kind of position. I would die for my family, and I’ll always be able to care for them.

"What do you want?"

"String him along. Take his money, promise him you'll keep him out of jail," I rise, making sure Kevin sees the blood stains on the sleeves of my white dress shirt. I recognize the moment he sees them and nervously licks his upper lip.

"He'll have me killed." Kevin's voice is barely audible.

"It's a possibility," I agree. "But if you don't, I'll kill you."

I don't hold a spark of sympathy for him when he visibly deflates in his chair, his eyes locked pleadingly on mine.

"You need me," he finally mutters.

I shrug. "I'm sure they'll replace you soon. It might even be to my benefit. The next guy might be more honorable in holding an agreement between us."

"Please." I know he's broken as he rises from the chair.

"Please," he repeats as I reach the door.

I turn, taking in his pitiful appearance. For some unfathomable reason, Scarlet pops into my head. Beautiful Scarlet. She hadn't looked half as pathetic after two days of torture as this guy does after a ten-minute conversation.

"Make him believe you'll get him off," I say, staring him down, "and I'll send someone to protect you."

I don't wait for his answer and see myself out.

It's only another fifteen minutes from his house before I reach mine. The gates swing open at my approach, and I nod at the four men stationed around them.

I enter, nod at the other guards by the front door, and make my way to the stairs before realizing that the filth of the two fuckers, Hank and Marco, still clings to my clothes, body, and hair. I need a shower before I see Scarlet. There's no way in hell I'm going to let her anywhere near their stink.

I always keep a change of clothes in one of the guest bedrooms, and since Scarlet is in mine, I'll need to make use of them.

"Antonio!"

Cursing, I turn to face Vito. He smirks and falls into step beside me. "You look like a man on a mission."

"I am," I grunt, not slowing down.

He chuckles. "Scarlet still here?"

I shoot him a sharp look, and he holds up his hands in surrender. "Relax. I like my balls attached."

"Then keep your mouth shut," I warn. "And send someone to watch Kevin. Carlos has been flirting with him."

"Got it, boss. Anything else?"

We stop in the middle of the stairway. Might as well get Vito filled in now, otherwise the fucker will pester me all night. "Carlos has four jurors on his payroll. Lambert is going to figure out who they are, but I want you to also do some digging." Having caught him up, I ignore him and finish walking up the stairs, almost giddy with anticipation of seeing Scarlet.