Page 66 of Vicious Behaviors (The Next Vicious Generation #3)

Marcello

“What did you do with the body?!” Haynes shouts, slamming his hands on the metal desk, his spit flying every which way.

I keep my lips sealed as the fucker continues on with his interrogation. I’m not saying anything. Not one damn word.

As the hours pass without Gio, I’m starting to wonder why he hasn’t arrived yet. The feds are either purposely keeping him from the room—thinking they’ll be able to wear me down and coerce a confession out of me—or there is a more nefarious reason behind his absence.

When Haynes and his crew came rushing into the gym, putting me under arrest for Father McDonagh’s murder, he didn’t add racketeering, extortion, money laundering, or any other crime to the charge. Murder was the only crime he charged me with, out of the hundreds I’ve committed.

As time keeps ticking with Gio nowhere in sight, I begin to wonder if this motherfucker has him locked away in a cell somewhere, along with Dom and my father, too.

No. Not possible. My father and Gio go to great lengths to clean up the Outfit’s mess, so none of our criminal activity comes back to bite us in the ass.

Haynes only has me. His beef is only with me. Which sucks for him. If he thinks I’ll ever admit to killing that motherfucking priest, he’s got another thing coming.

“So it’s like that, huh? You’re just going to sit there and not say a word?” Haynes grumbles.

I lift my head, stare him in his beady little eyes, and state, “Not without my lawyer present, no.”

He scoffs, his nostrils flaring at my nonchalance. He then pulls the chair opposite me and sits. “You know, I thought you’d be scarier looking from the things I heard about you. But now that I get to look you in the eye, I don’t see what the fuss is all about.”

‘Wait until he gets a load of me,’ the voice comes out, but this time I don’t feel the usual chill in my spine or the prickle at my nape. All I feel is a sense of calm.

“I got this,” I tell the voice, who seems to nod back in what almost feels like submission mixed with pride.

“The talk on the street? They have you pegged as some sort of madman. But all I see is a fool.”

My lips curve as I lean back in the chair, not biting on the bait he’s slinging my way.

“All I see is a spoiled mafia prince still needing his daddy to get him out of trouble.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Agent Haynes. I don’t get frazzled easily.”

This time it’s his lips that curve into a smile.

“No?” he arches a taunting brow. “That’s not what I’ve heard. Agent Graham seems to think that she struck enough of a nerve with you just by batting her eyelashes.”

I bite my inner cheek, hating that this motherfucker is using Izzie to rile me up.

“Bet you didn’t see her coming, did you, pretty boy?” he laughs. “You have the reputation of being this hard-ass, a machine without feelings, and yet look where you are now, beaten by a woman.”

My hands ball into fists as the cuffs, chained to the metal table, scrape my wrists. Haynes sees it too, causing him to laugh in my face.

“I can’t believe that the great Marcello Romano was brought down by a piece of pussy.”

I kick the chair back and fling my body toward him. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like that!” I shout, my arms flying in his direction, stretching the full length of the chains.

“Sit your ass down before I call reinforcements,” Haynes scolds, looking far too pleased at getting a rise out of me by only mentioning Izzie.

I sit down and stew in my own fury. He’s right. Izzie was my downfall. I honestly believed she loved me. I let her into my heart, told her all my secrets, only for her to stab me in the back and use them against me later.

Fuck. She chose her badge over me. How did I not see that coming? I was so blinded by love that I firmly believed that every time she told me she loved me last night, it was gospel truth. But it wasn’t. It was just another lie for her to use against me and coax a confession out of me.

Why else would Haynes show up at the gym this morning? Izzie must have told him what I confessed to her last night. Did she even wait for me to leave our bed before she called him?

Fuck. Here I thought we were making vows to each other—ones we would keep for all our days—when in reality, she was just telling me everything I wanted to hear, priming me up to use all my secrets against me. Who needs enemies, when love’s betrayal cuts that much deeper

“I’m not saying another word until my lawyer arrives,” I mutter after composing myself.

Fuck Haynes and his beady little eyes. Izzie might have taken me down, but like hell I’ll let this motherfucker do the same.

“ If he arrives,” Haynes cackles, leaving me to doubt that rescue is on its way.

“But until then, you’ll stay right here and tell me all I want to know.

And don’t bother denying that you didn’t kill the priest. I already have a witness who said you came to him one night with a corpse wrapped around what he described to be a fair linen cloth, much like the ones used to decorate a church altar.

I don’t know how good you are at math, but one plus one always equals two. ”

That fucking crematory operator snitched. Poor fucker is as good as dead since my father will never allow him to testify against me.

I lean back in my chair and look around the room, the large mirror at the side taunting me.

Is she here? Is Izzie here, watching her boss interrogate me?

“Quit eyeballing the two-way mirror. Your girlfriend isn’t here.” I try not to react to his statement. “This is my show. Not hers,” Haynes adds, yet again opening the folder on the table.

When the fucker went out to grab some coffee, I had a quick look at the files inside.

Aside from a witness statement putting me at Sacred Heart on the night of Father McDonagh’s disappearance, Haynes doesn’t have anything else.

Then again, he could be keeping whatever proof he does have somewhere else, since there was no mention of the funeral home operator’s sworn statement in there either.

The fucker probably left the file on the table on purpose just to toy with me.

Haynes could be just bluffing, thinking I might break if he keeps me here long enough.

I’ve lived with worse and still survived.

This fucker will not break me. The only one who managed to do that was Izzie.

But a broken heart doesn’t equal a confession, and like hell I’ll give him the satisfaction of giving him one.

Haynes continues his taunts until we are interrupted by the door slamming open. A well-dressed, sophisticated woman, who looks like she owns everything in this room—including Haynes’s ass—enters.

“This interrogation is over.”

“What?” Haynes gets out of his chair, stunned. “Director Roderick, what are you doing here? And what do you mean this interrogation is over? I’ve barely started!”

If ten hours of sweating me out in this room is considered ‘barely started,’ then this guy clearly has no concept of endurance or patience.

“You heard me, Haynes. Release Mr. Romano at once.”

Haynes stares at her in disbelief, not moving an inch to get me out of the chains.

When Roderick—whom I assume to be his boss—sees his refusal to uncuff me, she snaps her fingers at one of the federal agents standing behind her, who quickly walks over to me, unlocking the cuffs with a master key.

Though my wrists are bruised from being cuffed, I don’t rub my fingers on the sore skin, preferring to stand up and leave this fucking room as fast as possible.

“Mr. Romano, on behalf of the Bureau, let me apologize for this mishap.”

I nod, pretending to accept her empty apology.

“We’re going to let this fucker walk?! Why? We were so close!”

“Enough, Haynes,” she silences him. “We’ll have words in a minute. Right now, my presence is needed elsewhere.”

I head toward the exit, letting an arrogant, smug smile crest my lips as I stroll past Haynes. As I reach the hallway, every tense muscle relaxes when my gaze lands on my father. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the relief in his eyes, too.

“Follow me,” Roderick says, looking at me and my father. “You too, Haynes.” We all follow her down the hall, only stopping when she points to a room. “Though we usually don’t allow persons of interest to watch interrogations, I have been asked to offer you the courtesy.”

Roderick’s authoritarian mask never budges, but I can see in her eyes that she is not pleased with having me and my father here.

“Come,” my father says, entering the dimly lit room with a two-way mirror covering most of the side wall.

“What’s going on?” I ask once inside.

Haynes continues to fume, distastefully eyeing the two other agents in the room, one of whom looks like a woman I saw Izzie train back at the gym.

My father doesn’t explain, his gaze flicking to the agents, alerting me to keep silent.

He turns to the mirror, and I follow his lead, surprised to see Izzie inside with none other than Alejandro and Giovanni.

They all remain silent until Roderick enters the room.

“You may proceed, Father Torres,” Izzie says, her voice piercing straight to my heart like salt on a fresh wound.

“As I was saying, the day of Father McDonagh’s disappearance, I was the last one to see him alive.” He then looks at Gio, who encourages him to go on. “And that’s because I’m the one who killed him.”

The fuck?!

My head swings to my father, who keeps his gaze fixed on Alejandro, silently ordering me to do the same.

“And that’s because he caught you in a tryst with your lover, is that not correct?” Izzie probes, leading his words.