Page 20 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

Tristan

“ D id you send some cop after Kirsten?” I ask Creed as soon as he answers his phone while I break every traffic law on the way to Kirsten’s apartment.

“What? No.”

“You better not be lying to me,” I warn him. “She gave us what we wanted. The cases are dismissed. Leave her the fuck alone.”

“Look, man, I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but you need to calm the fuck down about this woman.”

“I can’t calm down because I’m on my way to her apartment to deal with the body of the man she just killed!”

“What?” Creed huffs.

“Either a real cop, or someone pretending to be a cop, came over to her place tonight. For some reason, she let him in, and then he tried to murder her. She got him first.”

“And why do you know this shit? What does it have to do with you?”

“Because she called me instead of the cops. Obviously, she can’t trust them. Someone still wants her dead. That’s why I’m asking you to tell me the truth.”

“I haven’t sent anyone after her.”

“Well, someone is still gunning for her. And I doubt they’ll give up after this failure.”

“Do you need my help?” he asks with a heavy sigh.

“Probably. I don’t trust anyone else…” I hate asking him, our family’s boss, for help, but I know I need it. It’s not just my life on the line here but Kirsten’s. Her life and her career.

“Fuck. Okay. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait,” I tell him, surprised but appreciative of his offer. “You can’t just bust into Kirsten’s apartment looking like, well, you. Someone could see you…”

“You want me to put on a disguise to come and help your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. And you don’t need a disguise. You just can’t come looking like you.”

“What do you have in mind?” he grumbles.

“Put on some sweats and a ballcap to cover your face. Nobody would think you’d be running around the city dressed down.”

“Fine,” he grits out as if not pleased. “You want me to bring in Dre too?”

“Yeah, may as well. I’ve got to figure out a way to get the body out of her place and clean up all the evidence.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said yourself that whoever wants her dead will probably try again. So, she can’t stay at her place.”

I’m surprised Creed cares enough to think about Kirsten’s safety. And that’s not something I had overlooked either. “She’s not leaving my side until I know who is after her and they’re buried.”

There’s a long, silent pause, making me take my eyes off the road for a second to glance down at the screen, making sure the call wasn’t dropped.

“You like her,” Creed says. “You never did give us the details on how you convinced her to drop the charges.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart,” I mutter. “But you don’t need those details.”

“You fucked her.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You at least screwed around with her. Is that what you used for blackmail? Photos or videos of you two going at it? I bet the uptight bitch would do anything to avoid evidence of you two together from getting out.”

I grit my teeth because he’s not wrong. I fucking hate how right he is about her not wanting anyone to find out about us hooking up.

“I have videos of her in a…compromising position with me. So yeah, she wasn’t going to lose her career just to send us to prison for three years.”

“You seriously like her,” Creed says yet again. “Are you still stalking her?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I was until this afternoon when she caught me and kneed me in my balls so hard, I may have lost the chance of ever reproducing. Not that the world needs another one of me…”

Creed laughs. “You’ve got it bad for the DA. I mean, I knew you were horny for her after seeing the shit you had on your phone, jerking off in public while watching her. But you are actually head over fucking heels for her.”

“Shut up and get your ass to her apartment. I’ll send you the address,” I add when I remember that unlike me, Creed hasn’t spent weeks sitting outside her building. “Tell Dre to dress down too.”

“And how do you plan to move the body with the security cameras and shit recording?”

“I guess we’ll need to take them out. Otherwise, the cops will be able to track the dead man to her apartment door and see he never walked out.”

“Right. It sounds like it’s going to be a long night.”

“You owe me,” I tell him.

“I know I do,” he grumbles before he ends the call.

When I arrive at Kirsten’s apartment door, I try the knob which easily turns. You have got to be kidding me! I mean, I know I told her to hide out in the bathroom, but dammit, a whole crew could’ve burst in on her in the five minutes it took me to get here.

I send her a text message from my phone that I’m in her apartment, so she, hopefully, won’t shoot me. I’m still surprised she called me instead of someone else tonight.

I shut and lock the door behind me while keeping an eye out. I don’t hear anyone, but they could be waiting in the hallway outside her bedroom door, ready to ambush her.

I creep through the front rooms to the hallway where I find the dead man.

He’s flat on his back, clutching his gun and guts in a puddle of blood. A giant puddle. Jesus. How many times did she shoot him?

I can’t help but cringe. I could’ve been him if I hadn’t emptied the bullets from her gun while she was sleeping the night I brought her home.

No, that’s not necessarily true.

Kirsten never even tried to pull the trigger to find out it was empty. At some point she, thankfully, did realize what I’d done or else she would’ve been dead tonight.

I promise myself I’ll never do that shit again, even if it means her blowing off my head someday.

God, why do I keep thinking about the future with this woman? There’s only right now, getting this mess cleaned up, and then we’re done. There’s no future for us, not when I’m everything she’s worked her entire life fighting against.

Bending down, I check for a pulse on the side of his neck just to be sure he’s not playing a long game of possum, then roll him over to get to his wallet in the back pocket of his pants.

The bedroom door cracks open and a strand of blonde hair over a single eye appears watching me a second before opening the door wider. “You’re robbing him? That’s your first instinct here?”

“No. Well, hell yes I’m going to take any cash he has, since the dead can’t spend it where they’re going.

” I open the wallet and find a twenty and a few ones that I shove in my pocket.

Then I pull out his driver’s license. “I wanted to know his name and who the fuck he is, before dumping his body. Oh, and you’re fucking welcome,” I huff when I glance back up at her.

“Sorry.” The apology from her lips is nearly as shocking as her calling me for help. “Thanks, I guess. I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t sure who to call…”

“You didn’t have a choice,” I remark. “There’s no telling which other cops are working with him. They’re a tight-knit group. And when they find out he didn’t complete his mission, they may come after you too.”

“How do you know it wasn’t your boss who sent him?”

“Because Creed told me it wasn’t. He has no reason to want you dead now. And he’s on the way over here with Dre to help clean this up.”

“You invited a mob boss to my house?” she huffs.

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s more than just removing the body from the scene. We’ve got to wipe every trace of him being here and delete the surveillance video. Unless you want to go to prison for murder…”

“It was self-defense,” she whispers.

“Right, but some of your rivals in the DA’s office would probably love the chance to get a headline in the news about the DA killing a man, right?”

“I just wish I knew why he came after me.”

“You don’t know him?”

“No, I’ve only seen him around the courthouse a few times.”

“So, you think he’s an actual cop?”

“Yes.”

I pull the badge from his hip and examine it. The thing looks real enough. In his wallet, I find his ID that says his name is Tony Wallace. There are a few business cards as well with his name on them. “These say he’s a homicide detective.”

“Do you think he came after me for someone being investigated for murder?”

“No, idea,” I answer. “Any cases that stand out to you as potential suspects?”

“Well, the Bertelli murder was just a few weeks ago. I…I just asked the officer in charge this week why there weren’t any arrests yet and had him send me all the reports to review…”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “If I had to bet, it was that little shit Bowen Bertelli who sent this guy.”

“What? Weston Bertelli’s son? Why wouldn’t he want me to put away the person who killed his father? His sister sure as shit does.”

“Because Bowen’s the most likely suspect!”

Her jaw drops. “You think Bowen killed his father?”

“Not personally, but he probably hired someone to do it. Someone I doubt you’ll ever find. Or you wouldn’t, if he did better than this attempt.”

“You think Bowen sent the detective after me so I wouldn’t charge him? I don’t think there’s any evidence pointing to a single suspect. The detective has no leads…”

“Bowen’s not the brightest bulb in the box, but he wouldn’t want you or anyone else looking too hard into his father’s murder,” I tell her before refocusing on the task at hand. “You got some old blankets or something to wrap this fucker in?”

“What about his family? His friends?” she asks, not budging from the doorway.

“What about them? They’re probably as shady as he was if was willing to take money to kill you. Ballsy, but stupid.”

“They’ll never know what happened to him, never have closure…” she trails off as if she pities them.

“Too fucking bad. I wonder how many murders he never solved if the price was right. Piece of shit.” I kick his head and Kirsten scoffs. “What? He’s dead; you already killed him.”

“That’s not what I was scoffing at. It’s your audacity. You’re just like him!” she says, pointing to the dead guy.

“No, I’m fucking not.”

“You kill people and then cover up the murders all for territory or money, right? What’s the difference?”