Page 21 of Confession (Constantine Brothers #2)

Cohen just keeps looking at me. His tactic is obvious. He wants to get under my skin, upset me before we even start talking about Pedano.

But my walls are up. Nothing can get in.

“Quite a messy scene,” Cohen muses, “in that kitchen. And living room.”

It flashes up from my memory. The blood. The piss. The hot pan. The smell of burning flesh.

Him.

Her.

See, that’s the problem with the walls. There’s shit inside them too.

I force my mind to go blank. It goes so blank that I don’t hear Cohen’s next question.

“Mr. Richmond?” he prompts.

I blink. “Don’t call me that.”

“Let’s talk about Leo Pedano. You know him?”

“I know of him.”

“What do you know of him?”

“Only that he works for the DiMaggio family.”

“ Worked for the DiMaggio family. Since he’s dead.”

“How did he die?” I ask.

“There was some blunt force trauma”—that would be the crowbar—“but the multiple stab wounds are what killed him.”

I nod.

“You don’t seem concerned, Mr. Richmond.”

This time, I ignore my father’s name. I shouldn’t have let myself react to it in the first place. I’m so sensitized right now. “Why should I be?”

“A man died,” Cohen reminds me, as though my sensibilities should be offended at the very idea.

“I’m sure Mr. DiMaggio is quite concerned. Is that why the FBI is involved in what should surely be a case for the Boston PD?”

Agent Cohen smiles like he’s enjoying himself, but it’s fake as hell. His right eye twitches. Maybe he’s not as dumb as some of them if he knows how dangerous it is for him to have me in here with other agents present. He has no idea what I might know. Or might be able to prove.

So why bring me in at all?

I look up to the two-way mirror. All I see is the back of Cohen’s head and my own harsh face, but the other agent is most certainly on the other side. Maybe he’s on the DiMaggio payroll too, but we’re still in the FBI building. They’re still leaving a trail.

Cohen doesn’t answer my question. I didn’t expect him to. He starts asking me about Neon Paradise and whether I was there the night before the murder, whether I saw Pedano.

I tell him that I was there for the cheap drinks and easy entertainment. I tell him that I didn’t notice Pedano.

“Not even in the bar fight that broke out?” Cohen inquires.

“I guess I left before that. I didn’t know there was a fight.”

“Someone thought they saw you there.”

“I was there, like I said. But not during the fight. You know how those things go. People get confused.”

“I suppose you would know that, Mr. Richmond.”

“Do you have any more questions for me?”

“Not tonight, Mr. Richmond.” Cohen gets up from his chair, so I do too. “Sanchez will see you out.”

***

The Jag is parked on the street right in front of the building. As soon as I emerge, the engine starts. I’m still very locked down, almost mechanical as I descend the concrete steps.

Then Vitali gets out of the car, which he really shouldn’t do, not in this exposed environment, not under the circumstances. He meets me at the bottom of the steps.

“Get back in the car, Vitali.”

“Are you okay?” His eyes dart back and forth as he looks at me. His hand skims my side. My heart leaps up into my throat.

I turn away from him and walk to the rear door. “I’m fine.”

I can feel his anger and confusion as he follows me. We both get in. Sasha’s eyes flick to me in the rearview mirror as she pulls away from the curb.

It’s a silent, awful ride home. I feel relief only when we pull through the gates and roll along the private drive toward the blunt face of the Georgian-style mansion. Soon, I can escape. I’ll go straight to my car when we park.

But Sasha drives past the garage to the fenced-in patio outside my room. I glare at her reflection in the rearview mirror. I thought she was bailing me out tonight. Apparently, she’s changed her mind.

When I get out, of course Vitali does too. The Jag reverses along the drive, leaving us alone together.

Vitali walks to the gate and opens it, holding it for me. When I don’t immediately walk through, he snaps, “Stop being a goddamn coward. You’re gonna fucking deal with me.”

Fuck.

I walk through the gate, which he slams behind me. Moonlight paints weak light over the patio with its little table and chairs. It’s ridiculous for me to have a place like this. This isn’t what I am, and I feel horrible being here.

What the fuck was I ever thinking, inserting myself into this life?

I unlock the door and go into my room, hitting the light for the kitchen area. The pan I used to cook this morning is on the hotplate. I stare at it until the door claps shut behind me. I jump.

Vitali demands, “What did Cohen want?”

“He didn’t have anything. I don’t know what his game was.”

“Why was he asking you about Pedano?”

“He knew I was at Neon Paradise the night before the murder. He didn’t say anything about you.”

“You’re sure he had nothing?”

“He had nothing,” I confirm.

Vitali studies me, hunts for the truth. “Was there anything that he might have had?”

“I killed Pedano.”

“Jesus Christ, Quinn.”

I shrug. “I didn’t want him coming after you again.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“We got distracted.”

“Bullshit. You could’ve told me at any time.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledge.

Vitali glares at me, rage burning in his dark eyes. I’ve rarely seen him this angry.

He demands, “Why were you going to leave tonight?”

My heart skips. “Because … I can’t …”

“Can’t what ?”

My temper snaps so abruptly that I’m not ready for it. “What the fuck do you think, Vitali? I can’t fucking do this!”

“Can’t do what ?” Vitali shouts, getting in my face.

“Get back!” I snap right in his.

“Answer my goddamn question!”

“This! You! Us! I can’t fucking do this shit!”

“ What shit? Nice shit? Is that what you mean? So what do you want then, Quinn, this?” His hand clamps on my throat.

Snarling, I grab his wrist, squeezing hard, but he doesn’t let go.

“You like that better?” he demands.

“Let go,” I choke.

“No. I absolutely will not.” He squeezes harder until lights dance in my eyes. “

“ Vitali .”

My grip loosens, not because I’m passing out but because I’m calming down. Because my brain is switching tracks, transmuting the signals.

Vitali’s other hand grabs my hard dick through my jeans. His jaw is clenched, his eyes furious, and everything starts to make sense, to feel right and comfortable again. I understand him like this. I understand myself this right.

“So you do like this better,” he says. “This is what you want.”

“ Yes. ”

He shoves me away. “Then take off your fucking clothes.”

I don’t at first. I just stand there, disoriented, dizzied by the shifts inside me, horrified and thrilled by his anger as he yanks off his jacket and throws it on the table. He rips off his cufflinks and tosses them. One rolls off the table and clinks onto the floor.

“Now!” he snaps.

He has more clothes to take off than I do, but I’m slow and clumsy. I feel half drugged, like I don’t know how I got here. He’s naked, his dick jutting out hard, when I still have my jeans on.

He smacks my hands out of the way when I reach for my belt. He roughly unbuckles it then whips it free of my belt loops. The sound makes me shudder and pitch into him.

He grabs me to him, fingers digging into my back, and whispers in my ear, “Is that what you really want?” He trails the belt against my back.

I press my face into his neck as I shiver. Yes, that’s what I want. But he throws down the belt and roughly pops the button of my jeans.

“I can punish you just fine without that,” he snarls and yanks down my zipper.

He shoves my pants and briefs down. I cry out as my cock gets yanked down by the elastic only to slap back up. Vitali steps on my pants between my legs. I stumble as I get out of them. I’m off balance when he grabs the back of my neck and walks me toward the bed. I fall onto it when he lets go.

I half wake up from this weird state I’m in when he opens my bedside drawer. I reach out to stop him, but he smacks my hand away and grabs the lube. When the drawer slaps shut, I fall back, yielding.

The lube pumps noisily into Vitali’s hand. I watch him slick his straining dick. He’s not looking at me, thank god.

He gets on the bed and roughly maneuvers me onto my front. He yanks up my hips, shoves my legs apart, and sets his cockhead against my hole.

He forces his way inside me in, pushing past my body’s resistance. I bury my face in the sheets, grunting and letting out sharp sounds at the pain, so fucking relieved by it, so desperate for it that I’m shaking.

“So that’s what you want, huh?” he demands when he’s all the way inside me.

“ Yes .”

He makes an angry sound and draws back, dragging his cock through my tight channel. He punches back in, driving a sharp cry from me.

“You want me to fuck you like I hate you, Quinn? Is that what you like?”

I can only moan, which pisses him off. He smashes my head down and fucks me so hard that his pelvis is smacking my ass, his cock is plunging with filthy sounds, his balls are slapping me, and I fly out of myself.

I come all over the sheets, thrashing under his brutal hold. He keeps fucking me. Smacking, thrusting into me, hitting my prostrate again and again. My mind is empty, my body overwhelmed. I scream into the sheets when I come again.

It’s too much. I’m shaking. I feel sick.

“Is this red yet?” Vitali demands as he keeps fucking me. “Answer me!”

“ No .”

He growls furiously and intensifies his assault until I come again so hard that I collapse under him, only half aware as my body spasms through my orgasm and his cock pumps hotly into me.

I’m still jerking through the aftershocks when he pulls out of me. He’s grunting, struggling, still in his orgasm. His cum splashes onto my back like he didn’t even want to finish inside me.

His knees give out and he falls beside the bed. He’s up almost at once. My head is turned the other way, so I don’t see him, but I do hear his bare feet slapping across the floor. He doesn’t even grab his clothes. Naked and furious, he yanks open my door and snaps it shut as he leaves.

I curl up on the bed, filthy with my cum and his. I’m empty like I need to be. I don’t feel anything, so I don’t really know why tears start leaking from my eyes.