White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(20)

Randi lifts her chin. “So what if he was? I can fuck the same guy more than once if I want.”

“He’s not a good guy, Randi. I know you might think he is, but he’s dangerous. Please don’t see him again.” She doesn’t have to accept my apology, but I pray she at least heeds my warning.

This knocks a guffaw from her throat. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? He’s dangerous? Look at your own situation. Who did you roll up with?” She clucks her tongue, and her eyes shoot daggers over my head. “Oh, wait, that’s right. You know exactly who he is because I told you everything I knew when you pumped me for information. Nice.”

“I know you’re pissed. But please, just listen to me.”

Footsteps and men’s voices echo from the stairwell as Randi shoves her door shut. I stop it with the palm of my hand.

“Please, Randi. Just be safe.”

“Watch your own ass, Drew. Mine’s covered.” She shoves her weight against the door, and it slams shut.

Great. Awesome. Fabulous.

But I don’t have time to think about Randi for much longer, because another familiar and completely unwelcome person follows Cannon to stand outside my door.

Detective Clinton Cole.

“Memphis Lockwood. How ’bout that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s taking in my appearance with leisure. “Just when I told myself I was looking for things where there was nothing to be found the other night, here you are with Cannon Freeman. Now, who’s going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”





15





Cannon





Cole is the last person I expected to show up right behind the squad car, but sure enough, there he was.

“Can we talk about the break-in? Because as far as I’m concerned, that’s the only thing that matters right now,” I say, interrupting what I’m sure is about to be an interrogation from Cole about why Memphis has been hiding her identity.

The detective glances from her to me. “You don’t want to talk about your employee’s—or is it girlfriend’s—multiple identities? Assuming you already knew about them, that is. Maybe I should take her into protective custody, just in case you have any thought of doing her harm now that you’ve found out she isn’t who she said she was.”

Where Cole is getting all this, I don’t know, but I suppose I shouldn’t underestimate the NYPD detective so easily. But one thing is absolutely certain—he’s not taking Memphis any fucking place.

“I’m safe, Detective,” Memphis says, crossing the hallway to stand at my side. “In fact, there’s nowhere I could possibly be safer than with Mr. Freeman.”

The detective is skeptical and studies our united front before waving the patrolman toward the door. “Don’t fuck up anything. Crime scene unit is still on its way to get fingerprints, photos, and to collect evidence.” He pauses to look back at us. “At least you were smart enough not to go inside.”

“Actually, we did,” I tell him. Mostly because I know our footprints and fingerprints will be found if they’re thorough.

“Of course you fucking did,” Cole says. “Why would you bother with common sense when you think you own the world? While we’re on the subject, did Dom have anything to do with this? You know I’d love another piece of evidence to throw at the DA so he can try for another conviction.”

Why the man lets it all hang out when it has to make his objectives harder to attain, I have no idea. Does he actually think I’d implicate a single member of the Casso crew, let alone the head of the family? Either way, I give him a slice of the truth.

“No. Dom didn’t have shit to do with this. We got a call from a neighbor while we were on our way home from dinner. We came back to find the entire place trashed. Seems random to me.”

“Right,” Cole drawls, sarcasm rich in his tone. Then his attention zeroes in on Memphis. “What are you investigating, Ms. Lockwood?”

“You know I can’t discuss that, Detective. But I think Cannon’s right. The break-in seems totally random.”

Cole eyes her as his jaw tenses. “Secrets don’t make friends, Memphis. We could help each other out. You have to have some idea of what they were looking for.”

I don’t like his smooth tone, the one he probably pulls out to get way more information than people want to give. Maybe that’s how he gets his real work done. But thankfully, my girl’s too smart to bite.

“I don’t know. The place was too much of a mess to tell if anything was taken.”

“Laptop?”

She curses softly. “Shit. I didn’t even look.” Memphis sounds genuine enough to me that I wish I’d thought to look for one.

Cole narrows his gaze on her. “Then what were you looking for when you went inside?” He scans her form, pausing when his gaze lands on her purse. “If you removed anything from the crime scene, I’m going to need to know about it.”

“Do you see her carrying anything, Cole? Because she’s not. And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t she the victim here? You mind easing up on the accusations?”

Cole shoots me a sideways glance that tells me he believes me about as far as he could throw me, but without proof, it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like Memphis could ever be prosecuted for taking something of hers out of her own apartment. Cole’s fishing, and he’s canny enough to snag a piece of information here and there with his technique.