Page 17 of Veiled Vengeance (The Devils of New York #3)

ASHER

T he ding of the elevator causes me to look up and into the bullpen of the fifth floor of the FBI building. There are a lot of people here, considering it’s the weekend.

Kowalski looks up from the file in his hands and nonchalantly closes it, placing it under his keyboard. “Hey, Dawson! I wasn’t expecting you to come in today. Are you ready to debrief?”

My eyes catch the word “Euphoria” on the front of the file as I take a seat at my desk across from his. “Sure. Berkowitz coming in today?”

Kowalski leans back and sets his feet on his desk, ankles crossed. “He’s downstairs getting coffee. Want me to call him and ask to get you a cup?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I voice, shaking my head. “What have I missed?”

His eyes dart around the room. “Not much. The APB is still out on Anthony Cole, but it’s like the guy is a ghost. His home in Texas has been empty for a while—PD found sheets covering all the furniture like he’s a damn royal or something.

The last record we have of him is when he flew as a passenger on a private plane to Teterboro. ”

The elevator dings again, and Berkowitz saunters in with two coffees. “Dawson! You’re here.”

“I was getting bored sitting around the house.” It’s not exactly true, but it’s not false either. I wouldn’t mind being at Spencer’s, where I can make her moan my name all day long.

“Dawson is here to give his statement,” Kowalski informs.

Berkowitz shifts his weight from foot to foot and pulls his chair away from his desk to sit next to Kowalski. “Awesome. Well, we can take care of that for you.” He and Kowalski both pull out their notepads and prepare to write down what I say.

“Tell us what happened first,” Kowalski instructs.

Sitting back, I recount details of that night. “I was circulating the room when I saw Ms. Gray slip into the studio next door. I followed her to get her to come back to the event.”

Berkowitz scoffs. “You just let her walk away when you knew that psycho was after her? Why didn’t you stay by her side? Security one-oh-one.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re one to talk about security.”

He leans forward and grits his teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I stay relaxed in my chair, ignoring his question and continue.

“Before we could return, Anthony Cole showed up with five men and quickly surrounded us. I stepped in front of Ms. Gray to shield her from Cole. That pissed him off, and he shot me.” I gesture to my shoulder—still in the damn sling.

“Then Cole’s men carried Ms. Gray and me into a van in the back alley and drove away.

Kowalski is studiously taking notes while Berkowitz eyes me with a furrowed brow and tight jawline.

“What happened next?” Kowalski questions, oblivious to the tension in the room.

“We were taken to a warehouse up north where we were beaten and tortured for information.” I aim my next words at Berkowitz. “While Cole was beating me senseless, he let slip that he thought Ms. Gray had stolen something from him when she ran away a few years ago.”

Kowalski looks up from his notepad. “Were you able to find out what it was?”

“A list.”

Berkowitz pales.

Kowalski squints as his brows drop low. “A list of what?”

Leering at Berkowitz, I answer. “Clients.”

“What kind of clients?”

“Turns out Cole has his hands in human trafficking. He’s dealt with people all over the country. Some of which are right here .”

Berkowitz flinches and searches for an exit.

Kowalski finally takes note of the shift in the air. “What’s going on? Isaac?”

“Yeah, Isaac.” I fish my phone out of my pocket, showing them the evidence on my screen. “Ten thousand dollars, six thousand, eight thousand—care to explain these transactions?”

Kowalski scrutinizes the information on my phone. “What is this?”

The shock on Isaac’s face dies. “Nothing. Don’t pay any attention to it, Adam.” Isaac shoves the phone back in my direction.

Rio always refers to them by their last names so much that I find myself doing the same, rather than Isaac Berkowitz and Adam Kowalski. But it’s better than Zane, who I know has more colorful names when he gets irritated with them.

He balls his hands into fists, crushing his pen and notepad, and jumps to his feet. I do the same.

He gets in my face and yells, “You hacked into my bank records?”

“I didn’t have to hack anything because I had a warrant. When I called up Marelli and gave him the list, he was all too quick to get a judge’s signature on a warrant,” I sneer.

The elevator bell dings, and out steps two agents from Internal Affairs, along with Marelli. Isaac spots them, and a whole new level of rage enters his body.

“Isaac, let’s talk this out. I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of it, right?” Adam reasons, but Isaac ignores him.

“You called IA? You asshole!” He shoves me backward, but I only move one foot back to brace myself.

I bring my fist around and land the punch right in his face.

His lip splits, and blood gathers in his mouth.

He’s stopped from swinging back when the IA agents rush over and handcuff his wrists behind his back. Marelli looms behind them.

The outrage on his face satisfies my need to see the moment he realizes his future is over.

I recite the lines I’ve had memorized since my first day in law enforcement.

“Issac Berkowitz, you are under arrest for exploitation and coercion. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will?—”

The blood in his teeth becomes visible as he shouts, “I know my damn rights!”

Stepping forward, I bring us toe to toe.

The scowl on my face has made greater men quiver and Issac attempts to keep his composure, but I catch a glimpse of trepidation.

“Unfortunately, that knowledge will do little for you in prison. Let’s see how well you do with three meals a day behind concrete walls and a six-by-six cell where no one will give a shit if you’re forced to become someone’s bitch, and no one will care if you live or die. ”

The veins in his neck pulse to a seething rhythm. “You’re going to regret this. Anthony will?—”

“He doesn’t give a fuck what happens to you.” The smile on my face is menacing as I pat his cheek. “Enjoy getting raped. It’s the least you deserve.”

The blood drains from his face. We both know what happens to cops in prison, even when they’re placed in protective custody.

I narrow my eyes. “One more thing. Why did you call Sherry the other day when Spencer Gray was here? What was the point? Don’t bother denying it; I had your phone records pulled.”

He knows he’s been caught red-handed. There’s no getting out of this with all the evidence I’ve found.

“I needed to let Cole know where she was without contacting him directly. Sherry Jenkins is always hassling law enforcement on every level for story leads. You and I both know the rumors—a BJ for a tip.”

My face turns red. “So, it was just for Cole? Or did you cash in on that little transaction with Sherry?”

He gives me a subtle roll of his eyes. “What do you think?”

“You, son of bitch!” I lunge forward but am held back by a set of arms. I continue to charge forward as an agent backs Berkowitz away. More agents join in my restraint as multiple arms and hands grasp my body but avoid my injury.

“Take him away,” Marelli instructs. The two IA agents haul Issac into the elevator as he throws his weight around in an attempt to get free. I shake my head at his feeble efforts.

I don’t know where the fuck he thinks he could go. We’re in the damn FBI building.

The shock on Adam Kowalski’s face seems to be permanent.

Aaron Marelli places a hand on his shoulder. “I hate to do this now, Adam, but we have to ask. Did you know?”

Kowalski rears his head back and finally stands from his chair. “What? No. No, of course not.”

Marelli nods his head, satisfied with Adam’s answer, and walks into his office.

Adam faces me. “So, what’s next?”

My gaze wanders to the window, looking out at the city—the people I swore an oath to protect.

“Now, we watch Anthony Cole’s world burn.”