Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(12)

Did I just hear that right? “What did you just say?”

“There is no case,” he says. “We investigated, nothing panned out. Miss Myers was advised to handle it herself, since it’s a civil matter.”

It’s not often I’m rendered speechless, but it’s been happening quite a bit lately, and it always seems to have something to do with Scarlet.

It’s blowing my goddamn mind.

“A civil matter,” I say. “Which part? Because I’m just wondering whether murder or kidnapping is the civil matter, legally speaking. I might be interested in partaking in one or the other, if that’s the case.”

“Look, I don’t know what she told you, Gambini, but there was no kidnapping. Aristov has a right to his daughter. Morgan kept the kid from him for years prior to this, and she wasn’t charged with kidnapping, either. So like I said, it’s a civil matter. If she wants us to do anything, she needs to sue for custody and get an order filed with the courts, something that can be enforced. And last time I checked, Miss Myers was still very much alive, which means there wasn’t a murder.”

“Attempted murder, then.”

“There’s no proof he tried to kill her,” he says. “At most, with just her testimony to rely on—if she’d even testify, which she won’t—it gets pled down to simple assault. He pays a fine, takes anger management, and that’s the end of it. She’s also welcome to petition the courts for a restraining order. Again, that’s something we can enforce.”

He’s got an answer for everything, an excuse as to why they’re not doing a damn thing to help her.

“Fair enough,” I say, “but riddle me this: if she gave birth at sixteen, which is under the age of consent, why wasn’t he charged for that? Pretty sure that’s one hell of a cut-and-dry felony.”

“There was never any complaint of statutory rape.”

“Not even when a man over twice her age signed the birth certificate?”

He stares at me in silence.

“Huh, so either you ignored that little fact or he never signed the birth certificate, which means he’s either guilty of statutory rape or he’s guilty of kidnapping her child. Which one is it, detective?”

He still says nothing.

Knowing what I know, I’m betting it’s the kidnapping. Some bullshit piece of paper issued by the government would mean nothing to Aristov. He doesn’t need the validation.

But it also means he’s got no legal right to her.

“Do you like it?” I ask after a moment of strained silence. “Does it make you hard, bending over for the Russians, letting them fuck you?”

He glares at me.

“It’s okay, you can admit it,” I continue. “We’ve all got our kinks. Bet you love it when they come all over your back and treat you like a little bitch.”

“Fuck you,” he growls. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you sold out a grieving mother, and I know you fed her a bunch of bullshit about how you were going to help. I know she let you stick it in, because she loves her kid, thinking you were a good guy that was going to help her with this. But you never planned to do a goddamn thing for her, did you?”

“I’m doing all I can for Morgan,” he says through gritted teeth, his nostrils flaring. He looks like he wants to tear me to pieces. Awesome. “You think I don’t wish I could get the kid back for her? If it was in any way possible, I would’ve done it, but my hands are tied. You just don’t cross Aristov.”

“Careful, detective,” I say. “You’re sounding a bit like a coward right now.”

“I’m being realistic,” he says, running his hands down his face. “Unlike Morgan, who seems to think she can go up against him and not lose everything. I mean, Christ... what does she expect? She’s alive. She escaped with her life. She ought to be grateful for that! The kid... the kid is fine. I get that it sucks, but she’s with them, and she’s... fine.”

“And you just took the Russian’s word for that?”

“Of course not,” he grumbles. “I’m not an idiot. I made him prove it. And the kid, you know... she’s fine. He has her. She’s fine.”

I’m beginning to question if he believes his own words. He’s said she was fine so many goddamn times that I think he might be trying to convince himself of that.

“I take it that means you’ve seen her?”

He looks at me, going white again. Uh-oh.

“Where’s he hiding her?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“Nothing.”

Lying son of a bitch...

I shove up to my feet, towering over the desk. “You wanna know what I know, detective?”

“What?”

Snatching ahold of his shirt, I fist the collar and yank him up out of his chair. He grabs the desk when he slams into it, bracing himself as I pull him to me. I stare him right in his eyes, face-to-face, so damn close our noses almost touch.

“I know if you ever lay another finger on Morgan, I’ll cut your dick off and fuck you with it,” I say. “And then, when I’m done, I’ll shove it down your mother’s throat while I fuck her. You got me?”